Chapter 17: The Villa
Galadriel couldn't take her eyes off Azriel's back, watching the way his muscles shifted underneath the leather. The small twitches his wings made when he turned or his step changed, the slight flex they gave every now and then—as normal as she would roll her shoulders. He strode ahead of her for the short walk, Cassian at his side for most of it. Which left her with the companionship of the High Lord. Though to his credit, he didn't seem to have much to say that morning.
Azriel led them through a wide lane on the edge of the same area that the town house was in. She would have to walk further and cross the Sidra to reach the inner city of Velaris and all its bustling life, but from the moment Galadriel saw the villa, she knew the reason he had chosen it for her.
It was modest, built with grey stone with a terracotta roof. The villa resembled something of a cottage with sprouts of flowers pouring down from ledges beneath arched windows and across lines of shrubs. The front door was a deep red, not quite the colour of dark blood—no, it was a shade far more welcoming, like velvet or a deep rose. And it reminded her of the cottage she had grown up in; the place where Azriel had met with her every month for seven years after rescuing her from a watery grave.
Cassian stopped at the white, waist-high fence surrounding the garden. "It's... Sweet," he said, frowning at flowers that bobbed next to his face in the gentle breeze. "You'll fit right in."
Galadriel walked ahead of him through the open gate. The general, in his leathers and his stiff posture, certainly did look out of place amongst the frilliness of it all. "I take that as a compliment," she said, though she was sure he hadn't meant it as so. "It's beautiful."
Azriel held out something for her. A small, bronze key. "It has been paid for entirely. I had some furnishings moved in. Bed, lounge—the necessities." She read his aloofness; he probably hadn't been ecstatic to spend his time choosing those let alone more decorative items.
Galadriel took the key, turning it over twice in her palm as she looked towards the door again. The moment felt awkward and strange. Something that shouldn't be happening the way it should. And when she put that key into the lock, it didn't feel like she was about to enter a new home—a new life.
Inside, there was nothing to fault. With the curtains drawn back, light flooded the villa through countless windows from every wall. Simple artwork hung from the walls. The furniture was mostly maple and mahogany, plain but pretty.
She would have to find a job to pay for anything else that she wished to flourish this place with. A boring, plain job in a shop or finding some small lord to serve. Nothing like the thrill of being a shadow on the wall.
"Thank you." The words came flatter than she intended. "You shouldn't have... but thank you."
Rhysand inspected the villa for himself though there wasn't much to see in comparison to the House of Wind or even his town house. It was a single storey, the main entertainment room they stood in centring it all, other rooms stemming off the western and northern wall. "Room for guests," he said, gesturing with a smirk to what appeared to be a second bedroom.
Galadriel tipped her head. "I'm not sure I have reason to host any." A jab at him but also a truthful remark. She had no reason to invite him or any of his court, nor did she have any other relations with the people of the city yet. They certainly had no reason to visit which is why she was sure Cassian joined to simply have a curious look rather than wait for a non-existent invitation.
Rhysand leaned against the back of the lounge that face a small hearth. "With your buttery personality, I'm sure you'll be thinking about extending soon enough."
Humming, she glanced around as though to make the calculations. "If I need more room I might be thinking about the other side of the city. Walking distance to your home is still too close." She sent a small smile to Azriel to tell him that she only teased about his choice of location. Somewhat.
Placing a hand on his chest, Rhysand moaned. "You wound me." He crossed his feet and looked around again. "I told Azriel that he could use my funds for something bigger but he was certain you would prefer this."
She bit the inside of her cheek. "I do prefer this. Even if I didn't I would have rathered a backstreet alley than your money."
Rhysand gave no response.
Sensing that her tone was verging on something more than fickle bickering, a consequence of the discomfort rumbling in her stomach, Galadriel tightened her arms around her middle. He had sounded... sincere. Behind all of it, every taunt and gesture, there had always been sincerity. "I'm sorry. I've just never been given a house before. Or had a High Lord offer me anything like that."
Rhysand smiled softly. "I've opened you an account with the city's bank. You have a household credit verified by me so don't worry about carrying anything on you, they'll charge your account directly in most places." Her previous account had been verified by Amoise in the Autumn Court—insurance to the bank and vendors that the amount owed would be paid. If she could not, the debt would be taken from the one who verified her.
"Everything that you had before has been replaced," added Azriel.
"Replaced?" Her mind ran with the number she had told Azriel just nights before. "Five thous... That is too much." Years' worth of saving. Savings she had thought she had lost but a loss she had mourned and grieved and forgotten about. An amount far too much to take as nothing more than a gift. "Take it back."
Azriel parted his thin lips but Rhysand spoke before him. "Returned," he enunciated. "Returned is the better word. Azriel was able to take the funds from your old account undetected. There is no trace that would lead them to this one even if Velaris wasn't protected."
Azriel frowned slightly but nodded in confirmation.
Relief trickled through her and she dropped her hands from her stomach. "Oh."
He watched her for a moment, amused. "A house is not too much but five thousand marks is?"
Galadriel couldn't be bothered to explain it to him. The villa, however beautiful, was not a gift. It was a sentence. A housing cell. But gold was freedom, one which she could not take from them and feel right. "My mind works in odd ways," is all she could say.
"I'll say," Cassian muttered. "You got any food in here?" Before she could answer, he was wandering into the kitchen and opening her cupboards.
"Pig," Rhysand muttered to himself. Galadriel hid her smile but trailed after the general.
Her cupboards were in fact, partially stocked. Filtering across the packages and containers, she realised that most of it, other than some fruits and salted meats, was handy for her practice of baking. Biting her lip, she glanced subtly at Azriel who stood off behind her. It was warming to know that he had taken that into consideration. That he thought of her.
Rhysand smiled again, hands still deep in his pockets. "Already thinking of what to bake?" he asked, reading the look in her gaze.
Galadriel nodded and took in the kitchen. Smaller than the town house's of course, but she barely needed that space anyway. "I would offer to bring something over later, but you never ate my lemon muffins so..." She trailed off with a shrug. "I'll just take it as you believing my baking is terrible."
"If I haven't eaten anything you've baked, how could I make that judgement?"
"You tell me, High Lord. But I can't think of a reason why you wouldn't eat them otherwise. I think you are one to judge a book by its cover, or a muffin by its frosting."
He gave an incredulous expression as she grinned obnoxiously back.
"There is nothing to eat," Cassian complained.
"There is plenty," she drawled. "You just have to actually make something."
"I don't have time for that."
"Mother forbid he loses precious minutes of his mirror time in the morning," Azriel muttered with an affectionate smirk directed at his brother. Cassian elected to ignore it. "And it is not your food. Get out of it."
Reluctantly, and a bit begrudgingly by the way the cupboard door sounded against the frame, Cassian gave up on his hunt. "This place sucks balls, Az."
Galadriel laughed to herself, moving back from the kitchen to the sitting room. Throat bobbing, she shifted on her sandal-donned feet. She peered back to the main bedroom she had yet to investigate, wondering if she would sleep well tonight or if the uncommon space would make her turn all night.
Rhysand clapped Cassian's shoulder. "I think we've overstayed our welcome." Galadriel drew her gaze back to him. The feline sharpness of his features had softened, his posture more of an amiable companion than a High Lord. "We'll let you get settled, Galadriel."
Though Cassian had arrived with the utmost inquisitiveness, he seemed ready and glad to leave. She tried to not take it too personally. Azriel followed him out like a guard, nodding back at her before he moved out of sight. Rhysand, however, lingered and it took a while for her to meet his eye.
"If you need anything..."
"I know," she sighed. "Knock at your door and bugger you until I get it."
He grinned. "I was going to say don't come looking for me." Galadriel rolled her eyes. "I would be happy to give you anything you need here. You're more than welcome to come visit the town house whenever you like and you won't be the only one to do so."
She wrinkled her nose. "I'm not sure there's anything there that I particularly want to see again."
He tipped closer. "Not even anyone?" Galadriel shook her head and he chuckled. "My heart is breaking, my dear Galadriel."
She cocked her chin to meet the mirth swirling in those violet eyes. "Let it crumble."
His lips rounded tightly as if hissing at a burn. "I'll tell Mor to give you a raise." As his expression fell back into a gentle smile, he stepped away from her, a hand laying softly on the bend of her arm. "We try to all have dinner together at the House at least once a month. I'd like if you would join us. And I think Mor would enjoy having another female around that isn't Amren."
Galadriel didn't know how to answer, not when she didn't know what a confirmation would entail. So she asked, "Do I get to sit on the opposite end to you?"
But he didn't fire back with his own taunt or pretend to be wounded. Instead, he looked at her with that same sincerity she had been mulling over earlier. "I'll sit your right next to Azriel if that's what you would like."
Her gut twisted. Galadriel took another half-step away from him, his hand falling from her arm. "I think they're waiting for you outside."
With a sigh, he aimed for the door. Glancing back over his shoulder, he smiled dimly and nodded a farewell. Rhysand said nothing as he left, silently closing the front door behind him. She watched the street, two pairs of dark wings moving past. Rhysand crossed the same path a moment later alone, hands in his pockets and head forward.
Galadriel turned around, breathing in the house's new silence.
Her back pressed against a wall, the walls growing taller and darker around her. She placed her palm to her mouth as her eyes stung with the sure sign of tears.
She had failed.
She had failed.
She had failed Azriel and Rhysand and his court. This place—this city and this house—prisons veiled as sanctuaries. There were no duties for her to do, no secrets to uncover and no invitations to parties to falsify. Her life, once secretive and plentiful—meaningful—had been rescinded to nothing more than a home in a villa where she could bake and garden and take strolls along the quiet streets. And they believed that they were offering her help. They truly believed that this is what she needed.
But even if she told them what she wanted, there was nothing they could do to fix it.
A sob racked through her.
I'm on a small writing spur now that I have a really decent vision of where this story is headed. Enjoy it while it lasts XD