Hyacinth (Tamlin's Healing Arc)

Chapter Thirty

Tamlin took a cautious step forward, positioning himself between Cin and the others.

His relaxed posture indicated that he was ready to unleash the full force of Spring upon them if they so much as made a move against Cin. He would show them exactly why he was the High Lord.

"Is this how you beg for my mate's forgiveness?" Rhysand sneered at Tamlin, his eyes narrowing into slits. "By launching unprovoked attacks?"

Tamlin briefly glanced at Cin, then shrugged at Rhysand. "I wouldn't say it was unprovoked, not when you gave her permission to speak her mind."

"You pride yourself on giving a voice to the voiceless, High Lord Rhysand. So why try to silence me?" Cin tilted her head slightly. "Is it because my words weren't kind to your mate? No, it's because my words don't portray you both as heroes."

Feyre interjected, "You—"

"I believe that's enough," Tamlin interrupted Feyre. "I meant what I said when I wished you happiness, Feyre. But I don't need your mate to come and monitor me like a broken child in need of constant supervision. Especially when all he does is remind me of my worthlessness."

Cin realized that was likely why Tamlin had taken so long to heal. Perhaps he had tried to pull himself back from the edge sooner than the two years it took her to find him, but each time he did, she wondered if Rhysand had been there to push him back again.

Was that why Tamlin had been residing near Crystal Lake instead of in his own home? Had the High Lord of the Night Court made Tamlin despise his own home?

Without bothering to answer, Rhysand reached down to take hold of Feyre's hand and turned to leave. But, knowing what she now knew, Cin wasn't finished. She couldn't let it go, especially now that she suspected Rhysand might be the reason Tamlin had almost taken his own life.

So she descended the final steps and swiftly moved past Tamlin to intercept the Night Court royals before they reached the garden's edge.

"Why did you continue to kick him while he was already down?" she yelled at Rhysand, closing the distance between them. "Haven't you taken enough?"

Rhysand loomed over her, his figure towering. "Tamlin killed my mother and my sister. He nearly drove my mate to madness. No, I haven't taken enough. Not by a long shot."

Cin held his gaze. "And in retaliation for that, you wiped out his entire family, stole his fiancée, and shattered his court. You have taken far more from him than he ever took from you. Are the scales not balanced yet? HOW MUCH MORE DO YOU NEED TO TAKE FROM THE HIGH LORD OF THE SPRING COURT BEFORE YOU DECIDE YOU'VE HAD ENOUGH!"

"Cin..." Tamlin appeared by her side, his hand on her elbow, gently pulling her back. "Let them go. They're not worth it." Cin took a step back, then another and another. Tamlin was right. They weren't worth her time or energy. If they couldn't see the truth on their own, her shouting wouldn't change a thing.

Like a dog on a leash. Rhysand's crooned in her mind.

Hoping it sounded like hissing, Cin snapped back, I can see why respect would look like a leash to someone like you.

Like the claws of a ferocious beast, she felt a piercing sensation scrape across her mind, sending a cold shiver down her spine. It could only be Rhysand, and Cin didn't resist it—she refused to. She fully opened herself to his torment.

Go ahead. I dare you, she taunted him. Reveal the monster you truly are and prove everyone right about you.

The claws scraped against her mind and soul, as if contemplating, before eventually relenting. Remorse flickered across Rhysand's face, and if Cin could, she would have spat at that display of remorse. As if Rhysand, the most powerful fae in Prythian's history, was capable of feeling guilty for what he had just done to her. He would do it again without hesitation if she posed a threat to his mate. He might even follow through with it. And then he would return to his dazzling city, to his beautiful son and his governing family, and forget about it all.

"If war returns to Prythian, Rhysand, you won't find any allies here. The Spring Court fights for itself and no one else," Tamlin declared, crossing his arms.

"Tam, please don't do this. We're not your enemies. If the time comes, you'll need us. Don't burn bridges you might rely on. Only a fool does that," Feyre pleaded. Cin knew Tamlin would want to believe her, to trust her words as genuine. But Tamlin knew all too well about the Night Court and their frequent web of lies to protect themselves. He couldn't trust a single word either of them said.

"I may be a fool, Feyre, but I am no one's puppet. Not anymore," Tamlin responded calmly, speaking to Rhysand as an equal, one High Lord to another.

Tamlin deserved more respect than they were capable of giving him. If they couldn't grant him a modicum of respect in his own home, then the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court could fuck right off.

Together, they walked toward the edge of the garden and winnowed back to the Night Court. Tamlin turned to Cin, still catching her breath from the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She half-expected him to scold her, but instead, he pulled her into a tight embrace, lifting her off her feet.

"Hey, hey, hey," she protested as he carried her back into the foyer. Tamlin set her down, a bit flustered. "Don—"

A sharp jingle reverberated through the Manor as the estate gates swung open. Thinking it might be the Night Court royals returning for another confrontation, Tamlin and Cin rushed back out through the oak doors, stopping at the top of the granite stairs.

To their surprise, it wasn't Feyre or Rhysand. A fae woman strode down the path, cradling a basket in her arms and a bag strapped to her back. Tamlin and Cin exchanged puzzled glances before making their way down the path to meet her halfway.

"Are you alright?" Tamlin inquired, extending his arms to relieve her of the heavy basket.

"Yes, yes, thank you for asking, High Lord. I'm perfectly fine," she replied, heaving the basket into his arms. "My name is Everly, my Lord, and I'm a cook from Calla. I would like to offer my services to the High Lord's household."

A cook.

Everly was a cook, and she wanted to work for the High Lord. Cin had to restrain herself from celebrating on the spot.

For a fleeting moment, she feared Tamlin would look to her for guidance. This was his opportunity to assert his authority as the High Lord of Spring. It was the tipping point, and if he even glanced at her for help, it would mean that Cin had failed him.

But he didn't. Her heart swelled with pride as he responded, "It would be my honor to have you, Everly, but I'm afraid I don't have the funds to employ any household staff at the moment."

"That's alright, my Lord. I know the lady behind you grew herbs for Orchis. If it's agreeable, I'll accept a handful of herbs and perhaps a box of vegetables to send home to my family every week until you can pay me for my services."

Now, Cin had a decision to make. He couldn't make it for her. It was her magic that Tamlin would need to compensate his employee. With a joyful laugh, she exclaimed, "Yes, of course! You may take whatever I grow and send it home to your family, Everly."

"Thank you, my Lady." Everly smiled and nodded, then turned her gaze to Tamlin.

Cin nudged him forcefully in the ribs, and he gestured toward the Manor, maintaining eye contact with Everly. "Well, Everly, welcome to the High Lord's Manor. Let's get you settled in a room and then show you to your kitchen."