A Court of Heart and Fealty | Rhysand

Chapter 74: Three Things

They got ahead of her. Galadriel followed the trail of blood as best she could, some halls too dark to see, the scent of him muddling with others. But she knew him, knew his scent well enough to distinguish it. It took concentration, but she jogged through the halls, pitcher discarded Mother knows where.

"Get away from him!"

Terson, the youngest after Lucien, had Lucien pinned against the wall. Balthor, who used to follow Eris around until his older brother warned him off with a blade, delivered a kick with the heel of his boot to Lucien's sternum who doubled over with a cry. Blood drenched the front of his jacket and tunic, the skin of his hands and neck. The brothers looked her way, sneering. "Do you see what I spy, brother?" Terson jeered. "I spy a spy."

There was about ten feet between her and them. She removed it. "I said, let him go. Amarantha ordered him to return to Tamlin and he needs to be in one piece to do that." In the corner of her eye, Lucien—with his one amber eye—hazily surveyed her. It had been decades since they looked upon one another. But the joy it sent bursting inside of her deflated when his face held nothing but pain. Not even a slither of daring hope.

Balthor turned away from his brothers, nearly chest to chest with her, both their heads tilted to stare at the other. "I don't think you're going to see anything here. You won't be alive to."

She steadied her shoulders. "You can't touch me."

"Amarantha can't know we touched you. But a lot of people turn up dead around here and not many people go poking around to find out what happened."

"Rhysand will. I'm his favourite after all." It wasn't a lie, but it felt like acid on her tongue.

"How could we forget?" Balthor circled her as Lucien squirmed, trying to pry Terson's hand off his neck. "The little whore of the Mountain. Too bad there won't be anything of your corpse left for him to recongise." Tendrils of hot, Autumn flame danced around his palm.

"Don't touch her." Lucien kicked at Terson's legs, striking hard at the knee. Terson buckled and gave enough room for Lucien to twist himself free.

Galadriel held out her hand in the same manner as Balthor. Her own flames encircled her hand. Instantly she felt the power creep up inside her, heat blossoming at her core. All three brothers stare at it. "I'll let you in on a little secret," she gritted out lowly. "I don't have much control over this and I will burn all four of us if I have to use it."

She knew it was not her threat but the sight of a power that shouldn't be hers that had the brothers scampering off, but it made her feel a little braver all the same. Dropping her hand, she stared at the one remaining. "Lucien," she uttered.

She made for him, but Lucien put out his hand between them. "Don't touch me."

"That wound needs tending," she told him softly. "Let me see to it before you go—"

"I don't want you anywhere near me." Those harsh words struck as strong as Cassian's fist. She recoiled. Lucien's lips curled in a sort of anguish that didn't come from the wound alone. "You betrayed Autumn."

Galadriel briefly closed her eyes, but the nightmare was still taking form when she opened them again. "I know," she breathed. "But can you truthfully say you care about them? Your brothers?"

"You betrayed my mother," he hissed. His eye was completely missing, the hole gaping and red. Lucien screamed again, pushing himself back against the wall, hair clinging to his cheek in the wet blood. "You lied to us."

"Never," Galadriel rasped. "I never betrayed your mother. I helped her—in ways that you do not know of."

Throwing himself off the wall, Lucien towered over her, the stench of his blood thick in her nostrils. "Even in Spring we hear things of the north. That you work for those monsters in the Night Court. That you've whored yourself too—." He fell back, sliding down the wall, agony crippling him.

"Carefully Luci." Rhys. She didn't need to look behind her to know that her mate stood in the corridor.

Panting, Lucien sized the High Lord of the Night Court up. But he was in no condition for even a verbal battle.

Galadriel reached for him. "Just let me—"

He slapped her hand away like she was infected with something contagious. He said, carefully as though she was a child needing to hear every syllable to understand, "I don't need anything from you, Galadriel." The way he said her true name, a curse worthy of being spat, broke the last bit of hope she had. Lucien heaved back to his feet and staggered through the hallway, not so much as looking back.

Rhysand's hand slipped around her bicep but she tore herself free, tears burning down her cheeks. Looking down at her hands in her lap, she saw the smears of Lucien's blood on her fingertips. She had a strange need to savour the feel of it, like her last piece of him.

Kneeling next to her, Rhysand offered his open hand to her. Galadriel stared at the blurry form, sniffling. "He hates me."

"He's confused. You're not who he's always known you to be."

"But I am," she whimpered. "He just didn't know all of it." Ignoring his hand, Galadriel pulled her knees to her chest and pressed her forehead to them. The shallow hideaway shattered the seal around her cries, the sobs pouring free. "I hate this, I hate it here, Rhys."

"I know."

"I want to go home."

He took her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. "Three things. There are three things I want you to remember."

"Only three?" she asked dryly.

He granted her a small smile. "Who are you?"

It felt like such a stupid question that she didn't answer at first. Not until she realised that he was serious. "Galadriel."

Rhysand nodded in approval. "Who am I?"

"My mate."

"Where is home?"

The quietest answer. "The Town House."

"Good." He stroked a thumb along her cheek. "Remember that and you'll be alright. I remind myself every night or whenever I don't feel like I can do this. I tell myself who I am, who you are, where we belong. Then I keep going."

If it had come from anybody else, she would have scoffed and tossed the advice aside. But it was Rhys. So Galadriel nodded dutifully, a soldier receiving her orders.  

Apologies for the wait, life got in the way!