Chapter 68: Fading Memories
"You've been brushing me off all morning."
Rhys frowned, straightening from his hunched position over his desk, eyes narrowed. "No, I haven't."
"Yes—" Galadriel placed a pot of tea on the edge of his desk, the matching teacup next to it "—you have."
Sitting back, he watched her pour the steaming drink. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry, tell me what's got you so worked up that you had to abandon me in bed this morning without so much as a kiss."
He tilted his head, lips sharp. "It would hardly call it abandonment. I only came downstairs."
Setting the teapot back down, Galadriel gave a small tut and rounded the desk, twisting herself onto his lap. "You are so argumentative today. Usually that is my job." Stretching to reach behind her, she picked through the papers and books he had strewn over the dark wood desk. "Why aren't you at your office at the House? That's where you usually go hide if you have this much work."
"Because Cassian and Azriel have a habit of being busybodies and getting their noses into it all." Galadriel hummed, utterly aware that she was being exactly that. "You're allowed to be nosy," Rhys replied to her thoughts.
She placed a sheet of paper that had finances scrawled over it back down. "Anything I can help with?"
He was smiling at her as he shook his head, violet eyes intently tracing the lines of her face as if to memorise her. "I'm sorry," he said again, softer. "How about we spend the day together? Whatever you want to do." He pushed a strand of her behind her ear.
"What about all this work?" A flick of his hand. It was gone. "I'm not sure you can do that."
"I'm a High Lord. I can do whatever I please."
"And when you fail to realise your city's treasury is empty because you didn't go through your spendings?"
"Then Prythian will have some very wealthy faeries roaming about."
"Such a generous High Lord," she crooned, leaning herself against him, arms hanging around his neck.
He ran the neckline of her dress between his fingers, curling it away from her skin just enough to peek below. "I can be very generous." The backs of his fingers brushed down her breast before smoothing back over it with his palm. Galadriel pulled herself closer, willing him for more. He pressed his lips to the space beneath her collarbone, nudging her dress away as they lowered down, down. His other hand became adventurous, pulling up the hem of her dress, slipping beneath to run his calloused palm along her bare thigh.
"Is this what you want to spend all day doing?" she asked airily, chin resting on his head as he pulled down the top of her dress, leaving her chest bare.
He pulled away from her just long enough to say, "Very much so." His fingertips brushed over her underwear, her breath catching, legs tensing. "Gods, I could listen to that sound all day."
Galadriel could only smile with parted lips as he started rubbing circles, pushing her chest further into his mouth, relishing the hardness growing beneath her.
She broke away from him to sit on his desk, pulling him by the lapels to her. Rhys stood between her knees, already making way to hitch her dress back up. Smirking, she put her own palm to him, stroking up and down. She earned a groan much louder than the one she had given, his hips bucking for friction. He'd usually wait for her to undo his belt but today he went to do it himself, easily unlatching it as he kissed her, undoing the buttons next. Galadriel dug her hand under the last layer separating them, skin to skin, and pulled his length out, running her thumb along the underside.
He stared down between them, watching how her hand worked, how his hips moved to meet the rhythm she decided. He breathed heavily, eyes half-lidded.
Someone knocked at the front door.
"Don't you dare," Rhys growled as she looked over her shoulder.
She gave him her most innocent expression. "But someone is here." Taking her hand back, she slipped from the desk and ducked out of the arm trapping her. "It would be rude to ignore them." With each swaying step she took backwards, fixing her dress back into place as she did, his face grew more irritated and—well, it was a rather pathetic look to see him there, all worked up, red-cheeked and knowing that unless he finished the job himself that would be the end of his pleasure. "I'm sorry, Rhys, do you feel abandoned? I'm only going into the hallway."
It struck him and he swore under his breath. "Cruel."
"Don't forget my morning kiss again." Smiling, she twirled around and went to see who was at the door.
Cassian barged in past her the moment she swung the wood open. Stumbling, she caught herself on the frame. Azriel shot her an apologetic expression, entering in after, far more conscious of the large, imposing size of his body and wings.
Cassian turned back, nose shrivelling. "Should we come back another time?"
A distant, "Yes," came from the office where Rhys still had not emerged from.
"He's just learning his lesson," Galadriel replied.
By the time Rhys emerged, bitter-faced and fully dressed, Cassian and Azriel had moved into the sitting room and Mor had come downstairs. "Why are we all crammed into my house?" he demanded from the archway.
"We were discussing doing something for the day," Galadriel answered, flexing her fingers to inspect her nails.
"Since you're stealing her all of tomorrow for her birthday, I feel it's only fair we get to claim her today," Cassian added, a broad, shit-eating grin cutting through his cheeks. It was true. Rhys wouldn't tell her what he had planned but warned her and the others that they wouldn't be available for some time.
"Like a toy being passed around," Mor muttered to the air, sharing a look with Galadriel.
Rhys glanced across to Galadriel. "I thought we were going to spend today together. Pick up where we left off before the interruption came banging on our door." That wicked smirk was meant to make her blush. It succeeded.
"You're leaving in a few hours anyway," she said.
Cassian's brows shifted together. "What for, again?"
"Summer Court," Rhys answered. "You've been bothering me about getting your ban lifted so I figured that the invite to Nostrus's eight-hundredth birthday gala would be a good enough occasion as ever to try. If I feed him enough drinks, the answer is sure to be maybe."
Mor picked at her sleeve. "I can't believe he invited you. He doesn't even like you."
He swept through the room, the epitome of elegant grace. "I may have bought my way in."
"I'm not invited, of course," Galadriel said as Rhys perched on the arm of her seat.
Running his thumb along her shoulder, he said, "Trust me, you wouldn't enjoy it." She had a few contentions with that fact. Balls and galas in the Autumn Court were always an event of celebration and magnificence and she resented the fact that she'd always been sidelined to servant duties. But they'd already discussed this when Rhys initially told her of the invite, and there was no changing his mind. She wasn't going.
Azriel, who hadn't spoken a word since he'd been there, said, "Tonight." He paused, blinking as if just realising that he'd spoken. But the hesitance was brushed away before it took root. "We'll do something tonight for Galadriel's birthday."
It was the perfect compromise, even if Mor declared Rhys was being greedy by stealing away both days. He ushered them out of the house and the moment the door latched closed, he grasped her face and pressed his mouth to hers. Galadriel laughed, stumbling back from where she stood, knocking into a side table.
It fell, a glass vase smashing along the floor. She went to look and inspect the damage, but Rhys pulled her face back and it took all of two seconds to forget the broken antique. Their breath clashed, passion searing through her bones, hands blindly tearing at clothes and hair. There were occasions where they took their time, exploring the places of each other's bodies with delicacy and tenderness but this was not one of them.
"I love you," Rhys said against her mouth. He kissed her hard. It was desperate and pleading, as if he was trying to steal a thousand more. "So fucking much."
She tilted her head back as those hot lips moved down to her neck, his hand already beneath her skirt, inside of her. "Prove it."
~
It was time to go, but Rhys wasn't having it. He grabbed her wrist as she went into the hallway, turning her back around. Galadriel pecked his lips. "You're going to make me late. Mor made us a reservation."
"I don't think the restaurant will care if their High Lord's mate walks in a few minutes behind schedule."
"It is rude," she chided. "And you should be getting ready as well. What time does the gala start?"
Rhys's lips straightened. "Not till well after dark. I don't expect to be home anytime today so don't wait up for me." The longing and the sadness in those words made her properly turn back to him, taking in those violet eyes that looked at her with so much adoration that sometimes she was convinced she must be dreaming.
"You'll be here, won't you?" she asked softly. "In the morning?"
"With a morning kiss and all." Tilting his head, he surveyed the cerulean dress she'd chosen, chiffon and layered like petals on a flower. "You look beautiful."
"Why don't you come out with us until you have to go?" It was still light. They'd decided on an early dinner so they could spend longer at Rita's—Cassian's suggestion.
He placed a palm to her cheek, thumb stroking the length of her cheekbone. "Enjoy it. But not too much. I don't think what I have planned for you tomorrow will go down well if you're hungover."
"Do the others know?"
He chuckled. "I didn't trust them enough not to tell you. Or you not to manipulate it out of them."
"He's talking about Mor." Galadriel smiled over her shoulder at Cassian at the end of the hallway just past the stairs. As per her request, he'd forgone the leathers in favour of the courtly attire he'd worn on Starfall. "Let her go, Rhys."
Galadriel pecked his lips again, his hand letting her wrist slip away. It took all of two steps for him to retake it. He didn't kiss her, just simply lined the curve of his nose with her head, breathing in her hair. "Have a good night," he murmured, but Cassian was already dragging her along before she could reply.
They met Azriel, Mor and Amren downstairs, Mor urging them to leave the moment they appeared—the courtesy of arriving at the time one said was a shared trait between them. Azriel couldn't be convinced to dance when they arrived at Rita's, remaining with Amren at the table as Galadriel did just so with Cassian and Mor, spinning under the former's arm.
Panting, she meandered to a cooler spot near the door, aware of the large Illyrian trailing after her. "You haven't let me out of your sights all night," she said to it.
Cassian grinned at her. "Just keeping you in good company."
They slid into a pair of stools. She'd felt Rhysand leave the Night Court about an hour before, the distance of the mating bond tethering them stretching thinner. "Shouldn't you be sitting between Mor and Az right now?" she asked, glimpsing in the direction of their table where Mor sat next to Amren.
Cassian's eyes fell to his lap momentarily. "Sometimes I get sick of playing the buffer," he confessed with a half-smile.
"So you'll act as my protector instead?" His expression twisted into a male caught in his own net. "You can't keep feeling guilty about that night, Cass. It won't do anybody any good."
"It makes me feel better," he said, a charming but failing attempt to change her mind. "Is my company so terrible that you can't put up with me for a single night?"
Galadriel dropped back to her feet and stepped between his wide knees, wringing her arms around his neck. "Your company is my favourite." She pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek.
Cassian raised his brows, amusement gleaming in his eyes. "You've had a fair bit to drink, haven't you?"
"How can you tell?"
"Your face." He laughed, callously using his palm to brush the hair that had frayed over her face back. "It's red. And you like climbing on people," he added, shaking her arm. "You'll find something to argue we me about soon." She could only giggle.
He guided her back to their table and she claimed the spot between the general and Azriel, head tipped back against the chair. "I know this isn't technically my birthday yet." Galadriel splayed her palms on the table. "But thank you. I've never been able to celebrate it like this."
"Mor's been on her best behaviour," Amren drawled. "For Azriel's birthday last year, she couldn't even walk home by the end of it."
Mor didn't bother looking as she stuck up her finger.
Galadriel laughed and listened to them all bicker, but the silence on her left drew her eyes towards the spymaster. He smiled down at her, that curve trained and perfect as ever. But it wasn't real. She still hadn't forgiven him for ratting her out about the Weaver to Rhys, and it seems that he hadn't forgiven her for going. Sighing, she rested her head against Cassian's shoulder and let the rest of the night slip away into faded memories.