After the ceremony with the Septon, every lord, lady, and family member of both Courts moved to the feasting hall for the celebrations. Rhysand and you were expected to stay close to each other; everyone anticipated you to appear as a happily married couple, despite the truth being far from it. Appearances were everything in this kind of arrangement. The feasting hall of the ceremonial hall buzzed with lively chatter, musicians filling the air with melodic tunes, and servants rushing to and from, ensuring everyone’s glasses were full. Rhysand and you stood somewhat apart from the crowd, silently observing the entire spectacle.

A servant passed by with a tray of goblets filled with wine—his lips were tight, as if he dared not offer anything but the best for someone of Rhysand's standing. Rhys, ever the master of smooth gestures, took two cups without missing a beat. You accepted one, the faintest smirk on your lips as you glanced at him.

He tossed the first back easily, savoring the taste, and began sipping on the second, his gaze remaining fixed on the room around you both.

You took a deliberate sip, your thoughts drifting, and muttered under your breath, "Wanker."

Rhys’s sharp hearing caught your words, and his head turned toward you, his brow arched in mild surprise, though his lips twitched upward with amusement. "Did you just call me a wanker?"

You shook your head, taking another slow drink from your goblet as you followed him. "Called myself a wanker. But I suspect you're one too."

His eyes narrowed slightly, the playful challenge in his gaze evident, but there was no anger. Just a glimmer of amusement, as if he enjoyed testing your boundaries. After a beat, Rhys took another long drink from his cup and let out a soft chuckle. "You are even more charming and ladylike than I ever imagined."