A Court of Light and Melody

Chapter 34 - Quite This High

"Live to the point of tears."

- Albert Camus

Song: Ocean Eyes - Billie Eilish

Azriel's landing was sudden. So sudden that Gwyn had only just registered their descent when she was jostled uncomfortably in his arms. She grunted as the sensation of weightlessness faded and was abruptly replaced with the full extent of her wounds.

The bruises on her face. The crossbow wound in her shoulder. The gash on her ribs. The arrow in her side. All of them seemed to pulse in a rhythmless tune. A maddening symphony of pain that made her gasp a cry. Even when she'd been at death's door beside Grisham's body she had not felt such pain.

"We're almost there, Gwyn," Azriel said, cradling her closer.

"It hurts really bad," she ground out, hands balling up as the fiery pain raged on.

From her view lying limply in Azriel's arms, Gwyn could see the outstretched branches of lush, green trees. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, and she was reminded of emeralds. Fat, glimmering gems dripping from above. This was the Spring Court indeed.

"That's good. It's good that you can feel it." The shadowsinger bent his head, placing a gentle kiss on her sweaty forehead. "We're almost to Tamlin's manor."

Tamlin? How? Last Gwyn had heard the man spent most of his time in beast form. His manor was supposedly in shambles. And Rhysand had asked they avoid him for a reason.

"Azriel, Rhys-Rhysand said--"

"Rhysand will understand... and in the unlikely case that he doesn't I don't give a damn." Azriel's footsteps hastened. "Tamlin's home will have water, provisions, and all the supplies we need to remove that arrow without you getting an infection." His grip on her tightened. "And with any luck he'll be too busy prowling the woods to notice us." Under his breath, "He has a lot of explaining to do..."

The edges of Gwyn's vision were slowly fading to white and she was distantly aware that Azriel was still talking. Out of the corner of her eye she could make out a large structure, dominated by vines and flowers. Azriel ascended what she assumed was a set of stairs and Gwyn groaned as she felt the barbed arrow twist inside of her. Gods, she wanted it out. She wanted it out now.

Gwyn remembered the arrow in her leg during the Blood Rite and that restless sensation she'd felt that beseeched her to yank it out. It was back.

"We're going to get it out, Gwyn," Azriel said as they arrived at a set of white, double doors. One was pristine and the other appeared crudely constructed. Like it had been repaired in haste. "See if he's here," Azriel muttered to the shadow by his ear.

Before the shadow could zip off to do its singer's bidding, the door swung open. In it stood two broad-chested men - no, just one - with eyes the same color as those emerald leaves. There was something bestial in them - a sort of animalistic rage that was barely contained. His blond hair was roughly shorn too close to his scalp, as though he'd taken a table knife to the strands, and the white shirt he wore was dirtied and hanging open.

This was the High Lord of the Spring Court. Tamlin.

"He's here," the man said in a voice hoarse from disuse. However, the imperious eyebrow he had raised indicated he hadn't forgotten his position in Prythian. "This is your only warning, Spymaster. Leave."

Gwyn saw the shadows around them thicken and Azriel's voice came out in a low growl. "Stand aside, Tamlin."

Tamlin's gaze turned to Gwyn and his lips curled in a sneer. "Unless this girl bleeding all over my doorstep is a member of the Spring Court, then you have no place in my lands."