A Court of Heart and Fealty | Rhysand

Chapter 53: Scarf

He tilted his leg until the bone of his knee pressed against her. Her nails gouged into those trenches already in his back. "Perhaps," he purred. "Or perhaps when I finally get the will to leave you and deal with all the High Lord responsibilities I've left with Mor, I want everybody to know what, exactly, I've been doing."

"What?" She hummed. "I think you mean 'who.' Or am I just a thing for you to collect, High Lord?"

He smirked lazily. "You're twisting my words." She hummed just as tiredly again. "Why don't I make breakfast today?"

"I thought you had meetings to go to." They'd had the solitude of the town house for five days now, spending every waking and sleeping moment in each other's company. But last night Rhysand had mentioned that he'd been putting off meetings with the city governors long enough that they were beginning to send missives to the town house. Usually, missives went to the House of Wind, the official palace and Rhysand's seat of power, so for them to show up at his private home was a testament to how agitated these faeries were becoming in his absence.

"Which is why I want to leave you with something, even if it's only food."

Galadriel twirled a piece of his hair around her finger. "How about you get a reward for when you return?"

Settling down on the bed, firm against her side, he traced his fingertips along her naval beneath the sheets. "I'm intrigued."

"Pick me something to wear. You've bought me plenty of clothes that I haven't worn yet." It was a... simple gesture. One that inherently did not hold much significance, and perhaps Rhys would not realise it held anything beyond that either. But Galadriel recalled her conviction in the way of fashion—her intent avoidance of anything that resembled the design of the Night Court. Flowers and prim frills and modesty had been the theme of her wardrobe until he decided to add to it. Offering this to him was another step forward in the way of accepting her role here at his side.

His nose nudged her jaw up as he buried himself beneath it, lips teasing her neck again. "How about nothing?"

"I do intend to leave the house today. If that is what you wish the people of your court to see, then so be it."

"I would rather keep that view to myself for a little longer," he concurred. His eyes were bright when they found hers. "Bringing you food and clothes. I believe you've made me your maid."

Galadriel patted his cheek and laughed, using her foot to usher him out of the bed and get on with the meal he promised her. Rhysand left the bedroom entirely naked, and she could feel his smirk against her mind as he caught her watching the retreating view. She lay there, naked herself, for a while after that. She anticipated it growing colder after he left, but the warmth never receded—kept heated by his magic, no doubt.

He brought her breakfast; a steaming tray of eggs and toast and bacon. He left her with a kiss, placing a hanger on the silver hook near the privacy screen. Taking one look at the dress, she rolled her eyes. It was the lewdest design he'd purchased for her—an emerald dress with a sharp cut down her front. The skirt piece was cut into two sections, the thinnest one that would hang between her legs barely the width of her hand. Accents at the waist and shoulders were gleaming gold. Good thing it was cold and she'd need a coat over it when she left the house.

Nuala and Cerridwen were more than happy to spend the day in the city, unbothered by the cold. Galadriel accompanied them out, wrapped in a thick cream coat and scarf that she'd stolen from the closet Cassian had been using through solstice.

"The Morrigan gifted it to him," Nuala told her. "For Winter Solstice."

"That makes much more sense," Galadriel sang. The scarf was nice—soft and warm—but she'd never seen the general wear one before and the scarf being left behind might not have been the most unintentional act. At least someone, if even Galadriel, was getting use out of it.