Hyacinth (Tamlin's Healing Arc)

Chapter Thirty Eight

"This dress is breathtaking, Sarette," Cin couldn't tear her eyes away from the mirror, taking in every stitch of the exquisite garment.

From the way the heart-shaped strapless bodice embraced her chest to the subtle flare of the skirt cascading from her waist to the floor, the dress was a stunning shade of ivory white adorned with hand-stitched gold flowers and a delicate gold-laced belt.

Undoubtedly, it was the finest dress Cin had ever worn, and in it, she felt every bit the Lady of Spring that Tamlin needed her to be.

"With more time, my Lady, I could create dresses that would rival those of the Gods," Sarette boasted, smirking without a hint of shame.

"I'll hold you to that," Cin smiled at Sarette through the mirror and allowed her to assist in stepping off the foot pedestal. "I may not know what our future holds, but I can promise you that I'll only accept your masterpieces when it comes to my gowns."

"Exclusively my creations in the High Lord's domain? The honor is mine," Sarette gave a slow bow of her head, and she didn't impede Cin as the Lady exited the Seams Closet. Apparently, Tamlin had sent Kenai out during the week to purchase a shiny new suit for himself and had retreated to his bedchambers to change.

His meeting with Bron had stretched for nearly three hours, and upon his return, Tamlin appeared weary. Cin knew better than to inquire about what had transpired, what words had been exchanged, or what the outcome might have been. Their relationship thrived on space, communication, and understanding.

Nevertheless, Cin had resolved that if Bron failed to appear at the ball, she would seek him out the following day to resolve their differences once and for all.

Cin had been barred from entering the Great Hall all day, and when she passed by, traversing from her bedroom to the Seams Closet, Vixra rushed to close the imposing doors at the High Lord's request.

Consequently, she had no inkling of what awaited her inside the Great Hall. As Cin rounded the corner into the foyer, the strains of a beautiful, harmonious tune played by the minstrels reached her ears. Gliding into the hall, accompanied by the resounding melodies from the Surfinian minstrels, Cin couldn't help but notice the hall's emptiness, except for Tamlin standing just inside the doors, awaiting her.

Clad in the most splendid three-piece suit she had ever laid eyes on, Tamlin stood with his hands casually tucked into his white pants pockets, the glimmer of his gold vest visible beneath his pristine white blazer. The blazer sleeves were rolled—or artfully styled—up to his elbows, revealing a line of golden ribbing that matched the hue of the vest and the flowers adorning her dress.

Over Tamlin's shoulders, Cin caught sight of the opulent decorations that adorned the hall. Lavishly adorned in soft greens, whites, and golds, the hall exuded an aura of grandeur. From the flower-filled vases to the meticulously arranged grand dinner table on the dais before the Rose Throne, and the braided flower trimmings that gracefully hung between the pillars, every detail exuded elegance. Even the Rose Throne itself had been transformed, adorned entirely in a covering of white and green flowers.

"All this for me?" Cin twirled around, her arms outstretched wide. Tamlin remained silent, his gaze lingering on her, devouring her form in the only way he could. "Tamlin? You seem a bit faint. Are you feeling well?"

"Faint?" He scoffed softly and swept her into his arms, his voice husky against her ear. "I can't wait to get you out of this dress."

"Sarette will flay you alive if you so much as damage a single stitch," Cin warned, shimmying her shoulders as she stepped away from him. Tamlin erupted into laughter, and surprisingly, he mimicked her actions.

Together, they danced to the lively melody, shimmying, shaking, swaying their hips, giggling, and laughing. They skipped and bounced until breathless, their grins revealing the intoxication of the energy they had created.

The minstrels gradually slowed the music, allowing the fiddle to take center stage in the symphony, playing louder than the rest and sounding remarkably familiar.

"Wait—" The realization dawned upon her.

"Yeah, I requested that they play it," Tamlin beamed, pulling Cin closer to him. The minstrels were performing the full symphony of the song he had played at the Saorsa Festival. How different and unfamiliar things had been back then, almost half a year ago. "I'm sorry no one else showed up, Cin. I wanted this birthday to be...special."

"It is special, Tamlin," she interrupted him, her heart overflowing with joy as they began to sway in a slow dance. "You have made this the most wonderful birthday I've had in my century of life."

She rose onto her toes to kiss him before he could protest, before he could argue, before he could doubt that this day was the most extraordinary she had ever experienced.

As she broke the kiss, the love in his eyes nearly brought her to her knees. He had once loved Feyre, a love born out of gratitude that had transformed into something more, because she had saved his court. But Tamlin's feelings for Cin were different. No, this time, he was saving—had saved—his court all on his own. Cin had merely guided him, pointing out his options. If anything, she had helped him regain his strength and love so that he could save himself and everyone else.

They twirled, spun, and glided across the floor, their gazes locked in a tender embrace. The world around them faded into the background until there was only Tamlin, Cin, and the magic between them.

With each giggle, each twirl and spin, each step they took, flowers sprang to life under their feet, transforming the Great Hall. The floor became adorned with a carpet of red tulips, and they danced at the very heart of this blooming masterpiece.