Hyacinth (Tamlin's Healing Arc)

Chapter Thirteen

"No," Tamlin's response echoed with finality.

Cin let out a sigh, following closely as he made his way back up through the foyer. "You have to face your court eventually," she urged. Gaol had granted her a reprieve from helping with the preparations for Remembrance Night, with the condition that she found a way to bring Tamlin to the event. "I wouldn't ask if I didn't believe you could handle it."

"They despise me, Cin." Tamlin spun around, causing Cin to instinctively step back. For a brief moment, she glimpsed the anger in his eyes, erasing the image of the man who had slowly become her friend.

Realizing the impact of his reaction, Tamlin opened his mouth to speak, but Cin beat him to it. "Yes, they may hate you. However, avoiding them won't change that. Tonight is not about you, me, or even the Spring fae who will be present. Tonight is about honoring the sentries and untrained fae who lost their lives in the wars."

Through all the books Cin had read on trauma during her own healing process, as well as her conversations with Gaol, she knew this was the hardest part. This was where Tamlin would come to terms with his mistakes without succumbing to despair. This was where hope had to ignite.

Her voice softened as she continued, "Your people will greet you with disdain for your role in the downfall of the Spring Court, but you are not beyond redemption. This time, when the opportunity arises, you can earn the loyalty of your people instead of inheriting it."

Tamlin lowered his gaze, his tone heavy with solemnity. "I'm not sure I can face the consequences of my actions. I don't know if I can bear it."

"You can, and you will," Cin's heart ached to offer him comfort, to reach out and hold his hand, but she remained resolute, denying her own vulnerability. "You will bear it for yourself, for your people, and for a future where a stranger cannot waltz into our home, our court, and seize it from you again."

Tamlin's complexion turned slightly pale at Cin's words. She hadn't intended to shame him, but he needed to hear the truth. She had to believe that he was strong enough to handle it. He turned away, his hand reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Cin's own hand twitched, the urge to reach out nearly overwhelming her.

But then Tamlin faced her once more, his eyes filled with a probing question. "Tell me about this festival."

A wave of relief washed over Cin, and a smile spread across her face. "Well, this is the second annual Saorsa Festival. After Amarantha, then Feyre, and finally Hybern, the Spring Fae weren't as eager to celebrate as the rest of Prythian. We hastily repaired our homes, planted small gardens in each household, and raised walls high enough to conceal our dwellings within two weeks of Hybern's King being beheaded. And for the year that followed, we held our breath.

"And when that year came to an end, and we knew the danger had truly passed, riders were dispatched from the villages to ensure everyone was safe. Then we gathered, in our respective villages, of course, and spent our first night of true freedom simply talking about the fae who had sacrificed themselves so that we could continue living. We don't dwell on how they died; instead, we focus on how they lived, so they will be remembered for as long as there are those of us left to remember them." Cin recalled the tears shed on that first night, including a few of her own for the friends she had lost.

"Those of us who aren't engaged in conversation or listening to stories spend the evening walking around, distributing food parcels, and refilling water skeins. Bron and his merry men—sorry, friends—handled it last year, and they'll likely do the same this year." Cin reminisced about Bron's watchful presence around the fire pits where she had sat. It had marked her first venture outside their home in over a year and her first time being around people since her own tragic event.