Hyacinth (Tamlin's Healing Arc)

Epilogue I

"You were right," Bron strode into the library and flopped onto the sofa in front of the fireplace. "The laundress was a spy for Day."

"And Night," Cin called over her shoulder. The balmy breeze carried her voice across the room as she packed the books onto the not-so-empty bookshelf. "Helion was reporting everything to Rhysand, who still can't keep his nose out of our court."

"Why doesn't he just send that shadowsinger of his? That's his spymaster, right?" Bron propped his feet up on the low table and popped some sugared grapes into his mouth.

"He has, but I've sent Quiet Jon to intercept the shadowsinger every time. And I keep Tamlin away from the shadows he sends. Azriel may be fast, but I'm faster. Rhysand doesn't know how we're finding his spymaster without fail, but we are. Rhysand's become a bit paranoid, he doesn't even say it aloud anymore. But when his shadowsinger makes a move in our general direction, I make countermoves."

"How long does it take for your flowers to get a message to you, all the way from up there down here?"

"Within five minutes," Cin smirked, folding her arms across her chest as she perched against the desk in front of the shelves. "It used to be an hour, but I'm getting better."

Their conversation was interrupted by two knocks on the doorframe. Castor stood in the doorway. At Cin's request, Castor had been hired as the Mansion's Steward after the salary mishap. His responsibilities included maintaining the household, ensuring the staff were paid, everything was stocked, and that they were fulfilling their duties.

Tamlin spent his days rebuilding where he could, and Cin focused on furnishing and visiting villages to promote vegetation growth. Unfortunately, their duties had become tangled, resulting in some staff receiving an excess of herbs while others received none at all. They needed Castor's assistance.

Clearing his throat, Castor spoke up. "My Lady, it's noon."

"I promise you, I will go downstairs and get a snack when I'm hungry." Cin wasn't in the mood to argue. Due to Feyre's PTSD-related starvation, Tamlin had mandated that Castor ensure Cin ate three meals a day, plus two snacks if possible.

"It's a good thing I knew you'd say that," Tamlin said, striding past Castor. Spotting Tamlin, Bron quickly stood up, placing the bowl of sugared grapes on the low table and standing at attention.

Tamlin walked straight over to Cin and pulled her into an embrace.

She placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. "You're back early."

"Yeah, I have some news."

Cin peered over his shoulder as Nienna wheeled in a silver trolley with biscuits on a plate and a steaming teapot. Smiling at Tamlin, Cin sighed and followed Nienna into the sitting area, where Bron was still standing awkwardly.

"My Lord," he nodded as Tamlin joined Cin.

"Bron," Tamlin nodded back. "I didn't think I'd be seeing you here today. Any updates?"

"The batch of fully trained sentries was assigned to the Mansion this morning. The Monardo encampment has thirty new recruits starting training tomorrow. I believe they're Spring fae returning from Autumn," Bron said, his posture relaxing a bit.

Having been trained by Tamlin, Bron and Hart were responsible for training the new sentries and assigning them based on their skills. "Hart is set to return from Orchis by the end of the week with another batch of new recruits. Once his group arrives, we'll train them first before extending our reach."

"Assign some of them to the borders, would you?" Tamlin suggested. As his Quartermarshals, he trusted Bron and Hart's judgment implicitly. They had debated for days about where to assign the first group of sentries: the Mansion, the villages, or the border. In the end, they had started with the border, then the villages, and finally the Mansion. Now, they would fill the numbers and rotate the sentries so that no one was stationed in one place for longer than six months while also training the army.