Chapter 23: Errands and Favours
Galadriel wasn't entirely sure how she ended up having the Illyrian General Commander in her sitting room, but there he was. She hadn't asked if he wanted tea, but the gesture was ingrained in her very being, the kettle boiling of the hearth the moment the knock came at her door.
"Thank you." He took the small, delicate teacup that looked like it belonged in a child's toy collection in his bearish hand. He clearly wasn't a tea person, but she thought it uncouth to offer him wine before the clocks had even struck midday. Though, he probably wouldn't have complained.
Settling down on the armchair, Galadriel politely folded her hands in her lap. "I can add more honey if you prefer it sweeter."
He sipped at it, then place the teacup aside on the table beside the larger lounge. "It's fine," he said with all kindness. "Az wanted to give you a report about the hunt for your head." Her face whitened at the label, but that quirk in the warrior's lips was enough to say that he thought the title of a hunt nothing more than a gag.
Arching a brow, Galadriel reached for her own tea. "And you've become his little pet catching up on his chores?" She wouldn't have made such a blatant tease that could be read as insult with anybody else—well, maybe with Rhysand—but there was something about Cassian's presence that imbued her with confidence.
Cassian snorted and leant back into her lounge, his wings angled awkwardly to fit in the gaps between the plush cushions. "Rhys needs to pay me more if I'm to become his court errand boy." He chuckled at the idea. "No, just a favour for a brother. He's in Hewn City right now with Mor. Something came up there."
Worry coiled like a snake preparing to attack inside her. "This couldn't wait until he got back?" She leant forward in the armchair, weight on her feet.
But Cassian waved her away. "Az just wanted to let you know that Beron has recalled all his efforts. Thought it would ease your mind to know that." Placing a hand on his chest, he said, "I tried to tell him that you knew Velaris was safe, but he insisted."
That little piece inside of her that belonged to the spymaster swelled and warmed. Azriel wanted her to know she was safe, that even if he could not tell her so himself, he would send someone just so she could relax.
She slumped against the armchair. "What about the bounty?"
"As far as I'm aware it still exists but nobody from Autumn Court is actively searching for you. Still, I wouldn't recommend it as a holiday destination. Or hopping about through other courts anytime soon."
Humour tilted her lips upwards. "No, probably not." She wasn't certain what she should feel with this knowledge, that Beron had retreated, had practically given up. There was definitely some relief, but... it didn't change much else. It was with that realisation that Galadriel fully understood her own trust in Rhysand—in his protection and promise. That she had always known in some small part of her that she was safe. This was simply confirmation.
"What have you been doing these days?" Cassian glanced around her humble home, his leathers and size amusingly out of place.
"Not much," she admitted. She pulled at the skin around her nails. "I miss my old job."
"Spying?"
"And being a handmaiden. It gave me something to do every day." Handmaiden and spy, the two things that her whole life grew around. Without them, what was she? Who was she? It made her restless. But the thought dragged in another. "I actually have a request to ask of you. A favour."
He laughed and dragged a hand down the side of his face. "Seems like that's all I'm doing these days."
Galadriel smiled to herself. "I need a letter of recommendation for a job."
"A job?" His thick, dark brows arched high into his hairline.
"At a patisserie."
"You need a letter of recommendation... For a patisserie job? From me?"
Laughing, she rubbed her cheek with her hand. "I know. But it's a family business and I'm a stranger. I would have asked Rhysand or Azriel for this, but the recipient appears to be more... allured by you."
A grin speared across his cheeks. "Not a new occurrence. What's her name?"
"His name is Thain."
He contemplated that before pursing his lips and shrugging. "I'll get Mor to draft it out. I'm no good at writing that type of shit." She thanked him. "If you're getting twitchy around here, you can always join me for training in the mornings."
"Training?"
He nodded towards the window where she could see the House of Wind if she tilted her head. Sunset flared over Velaris. "On the rooftop. It wouldn't hurt for you to learn a few things."
Narrowing her eyes, she remarked, "That makes it sound like there are things for me to train against." She hadn't forgotten her observation that Rhysand and Azriel had been keeping something from her.
Cassian simply shrugged. "Like I said, it wouldn't hurt."
Curiosity pecked at her. "What would I learn?"
"Some basic combat. Hand-to-hand. Weapons if you're up for it." Galadriel had learnt a few things from Azriel over the years. Mostly techniques to avoid being held in place, a dozen ways to escape from someone's grasp. But her position hadn't been one of confrontation and she hadn't had a need to learn how to wield anything longer than a kitchen knife. "It doesn't have to be for anything," Cassian added, leaning forward until his elbows drove into the tops of his knees. "Half the time I just train because it clears my head. Rhysand comes most often when he's pent up about something."
"How early in the morning are we talking about?"
He took the hint of the nature of her bemoaning. "I'll be knocking on your door before sunrise," he sang. "When you don't answer I'll break it down and strip the sheets from your bed. You'll be grumbling and huffing when I fly you all the way up in the middle of winter then sweating and swearing when I don't let you stop."
Laughing, Galadriel sunk deeper into the armchair. "I hope you put on your armour before we get there. I'll kick you in the balls if you touch my blankets."
"With those tiny things?" He stretched his leg out and knocked her bare foot with his thick boot. "You'll barely hit one."
"Cauldron Cassian," Galadriel spluttered, throwing her head back and laughing her lungs empty. "I don't even want to know how much you're exaggerating."
His grin was wolfish. "I don't need to. Of course, I could just show you."
Her face went red and hot as she brought her feet onto the armchair, still laughing. "Is that why you're performing this favour for Azriel? To get entrance into my home?" she drawled, tipping her head to her shoulder as she gazed over him through her tear-blurred sight.
He waved a hand at her. "You've been hard to draw out of this little house, so I figured getting into it was my best bet."
Galadriel laughed harder until her chest ached and she finally settled. It had been too long since she had laughed like that. Was it... Was she with Lucien or meeting with Helion last time? She couldn't remember.
"I take it you'll come," Cassian mused, settling back into his seat with that absurdly small teacup in hand.
Nodding, she traced the ceramic edge of her own cup. "I will." If the offer had come from any other than Cassian she would have refused, but there was a warmth about him that she couldn't ignore. As if his every word, his every gesture came right from the heart on his sleeve. If the idea might have come from another, if he hadn't wanted her there, she would have picked up on it. "Do we start tomorrow?"
"Just for you, I'll come by after sunrise."
Her gaze went to his wings. She imagined herself flying with those spread out above her. Phantom wind kissed her cheeks as she remembered how it felt when Rhysand brought her up to the House. Rhysand's wings were longer, she had noted, the ivory talon arching higher over his head. But there was a broadness to Cassian's—something more aggressive about them. Probably because he was a full-blooded Illyrian.
Cassian suddenly stood up, shattering her thoughts. He swaggered towards her, plucking the cup from her hands as one would a ripe fruit from a tree. Mouth blubbering a little, Galadriel craned her neck back until she could look him in the face as he stood over her.
"Go change," he said, nodding towards her room.
"Change?"
"I'm taking you to one of my favourite places." Heading towards the kitchen, he continued over his shoulder. "I want us to have some good memories so when I pummel you in the morning, you'll still remember that I like you."
Stumbling to her feet, she managed to ask, "What should I change into?"
She watched his wide shoulders shrug. "Something that won't get caught between your legs. Less frilly."
Not able to form another question—which she most certainly should have—Galadriel mutely made her way to the bedroom and removed her pale blue dress. It took a while for her to find something she assumed Cassian would find suitable; brown pants that were neither tight nor loose and a red blouse, the sleeves cinched at her wrists. When she appeared back in the sitting room, Cassian grinned at her and swung an arm around the back of her shoulders.
"You ever heard of Rita's?" he asked, guiding her towards the front door.
"No," she answered. Hesitating as they reached the threshold, she realised she hadn't grabbed her purse. "Hang on, my money."
But Cassian didn't let her turn around. "My treat."
~
A glass grated against the wooden tabletop as Cassian passed her a drink the shade of the sun. "Try that."
With a lazy hand, she grabbed at his drink and downed a generous amount. It tasted sweet, but not like honey. It wasn't sugary or overwhelming and there was a strange tanginess to it that reminded her of a fruit from the Spring Court. A faint memory of her brother handing her ripened apples came to her.
Cassian took the drink back. "Good, isn't it?"
"I haven't been this drunk...Ever." Squinting at the rest of the dark building, she tried to conjure other memories, to see if she could locate in her mind another occasion where she had felt such a way. Amoise didn't drink much beyond a wine at dinner and Galadriel never invited herself to join. She had once spent a night with Lucien where they snuck to the cellars. He had been older then, and she was no longer charged with his wellbeing so she hadn't felt guilty pouring him glasses of his father's stock. But even then, giggling as they were, she hadn't been this incoherent to reality.
"Maybe this was a bad choice," he noted, swirling his glass around until the golden liquid near the thin edge. "I don't want you vomiting on my shoes in the morning."
Galadriel waved a hand through the air, puffing air through her lips. "We can start the day after tomorrow." She would have said the day itself, but she couldn't quite recall what today was. "I'm having too much fun to quit now."
Satisfied with their unofficial bargain, he slid the drink back across to her and let her down the rest of it. They didn't dance, but they talked for hours until even the most eager of patrons began to stumble home.
Cool air hit her face like a baton when they eventually followed suit. A hand on the low of her back steadied her. She hadn't even realised she had begun to lean. Her eyes were weary, but she managed to look up and down the quiet street. "I've never seen Velaris so empty," she mumbled.
Cassian hummed, the pressure of his hand on her back guiding her to the right. "If you stay up late enough, even a city of night needs to sleep." She might have said something in response, she might not have.
By the time her mind resurfaced to the present, they were at her front door and her hand was already working to unlock it. But she hadn't brought her key. Blood draining from her hot cheeks, her head whipped to Cassian. "I don't—"
The door clicked open. Cassian had reached past her, the handle giving way under his hand. "You didn't lock it. Not that you need to in this part of the city. Crime rate is quite low when the High Lord lives just down the street." Mirth fed his tone.
"Oh, right." Galadriel gripped the beams of the threshold as she climbed the small step to get inside. She couldn't quite grasp what was happening around her, only that she had sunk into something soft that engulfed her and a glass with clear liquid had appeared in front of her. "What is it?"
Cassian didn't answer as she sipped at it. Water. "I may have overdone it tonight," he confessed, though didn't seem at all ashamed or disappointed at the fact.
Grinning like a fool, she buried her head between the larger cushioned backing of the lounge and the smaller pillow she had leaning against the arm. "It was fun."
"Good," Cassian said. "I'm glad." Throwing her arms overhead, she stretched like a house cat. "What's this for?"
She felt the warm touch of his finger skimming her bare skin over her hip where her blouse had drifted up from. Over her tattoo. "Bargain," she mumbled out, lashes batting together. "With Azriel."
He caught her gaze before looking back down at it. "What is the bargain?"
"I do what he says whenever he says it," she sang with a breathlessness that came from nowhere. Fluttering her hand about at Cassian's concentrated frown, she added, "It's just assurance. He doesn't use it often but if he commands something, I follow through with it."
"Like what?"
Dragging her right hand back down, she showed him her ring—the silver band and the little white gemstone sitting in it. Not clear as a diamond, it looked closer to frosted glass worn smooth by years in the sea. "If I'm ever captured, this little thing makes sure nothing that I know gets into the wrong hands. Not that I know much. Azriel likes keeping me in the dark about everything. But it protects him—this court. The moment I know I'm trapped, I take it."
For a long moment, Cassian only stared at the ring, his face unreadable. "You don't need it anymore."
Sighing, Galadriel burrowed herself deeper into the pillow, tugging her hand to that warm spot underneath her chin. "I know more about this court than I ever have before."
"You're also protected by this court now."
Relenting the warmness of her own skin, she slapped her hand gently against his cheek. "Which is why I'm not afraid to wear it," she sang, tiredness creeping into her voice. Through her drunken haze, she clutched to sense and dropped her hand, internally scolding herself for touching the General Commander, a feared warrior in such a manner.
At the sight of her eyes beginning to close, Cassian rose from the crouch he had fallen to. Shooting her hand out, she latched onto his wrist, sitting up. "I haven't..." Her throat went dry but she forced the rest of her words to come out. "Thank you. I haven't enjoyed myself like that in many years."
"Goodnight, Galadriel."
When she woke in the early afternoon the next day, a folded piece of paper waited for her on the floor a few inches in front of the front door, Cassian's bold signature along the bottom.