A Court of Innocents

1: Revelation

The soft morning wind carried the smell of blood. None had been spilt—not that I could see—but perhaps the wind was carrying a warning sign. Perhaps it knew of the doom that stood on the other side of this threshold. Perhaps it knew exactly how this meeting would end, more so than any of us did.

The House of Wind's glass doors were open before me. Light spilled down the hallway, illuminating the beauty and grandeur that was Rhys and Feyre's favorite home. My High Lord and Lady stood at the mouth of the sitting room now, whispering via their mating bond. While Rhys held his breath in tension, Feyre was the picture of calm, reassuring her mate that this meeting was fine, that it didn't stir up any trauma inside of her, or at least, no trauma that she couldn't handle.

Behind me, Cassian continued to pace. His steps had already worn down the grassy path that led to the house's front door. I watched him, unable to find the words to make him stop, to calm down and breathe.

Azriel stood at my side, a thick layer of shadows shielding him from the world—the only sign of his agitation. His face remained the calm neutral of an Illyrian spymaster, as if he had meetings with enemies of the Night Court everyday. Well, not enemy. Not anymore. More like... a reluctant ally.

He caught me staring. The heat of his gaze burned into my skin, a feeling I'd long since become addicted to.

I'd been attracted to the shadowsinger for decades now, ever since I first encountered him in our Illyrian war camp. But neither of us were willing to cross that line, and when Rhysand had found a place for me in his court, to no longer serve the sadistic bastards in his armies but to serve him and his Lady—when Rhysand declared me an official spy, the right hand to Azriel Shadowsinger, my longing for him only grew. We were now close enough for the lines between boss and friend to blur. Azriel had grown fond of me, as I did him, and yet neither of us spoke of our deepest desires. The only reason I was sure that the feelings were mutual was due to the few times I'd caught him staring at me when he thought I couldn't see, and the rare occurrences when he'd murmur my name in his sleep. Yara. It sounded like a promise, like a verbal proclamation of love on his lips.

Now, he threw me a soft smile—a rare sight that he only gifted his family and me with. For a a heartbeat, I wasn't anticipating a doomed meeting with another court. I was far away, hidden in some corner of the world where only Azriel and I existed.

Cassian mumbled under his breath again, ruining my glorious fantasy.

"Would you stop—" I began, but was cut short.

Mor winnowed five feet behind Cassian, a scowl on her beautiful face, her crimson dress rippling in the wind. She put a step between her and the man she'd just delivered to the house. I scowled at the loose satin dancing around her. She was beautiful in anything, but I hated that shade of red.

I turned my attention to the newcomer as Cassian and Azriel accompanied Mor safely inside. Their part was done; now it was my turn.

The High Lord's green eyes were vibrant against his tanned, muscled skin. His tunic, the same shade of emerald as his eyes, paired well with his brown trousers and knee-high boots. Fresh herbs sprouting from wet earth. Blonde locks were pulled back to show off the lines of his face, handsome by anyone's standards.

"I didn't realize you would be present at this meeting," Tamlin said, his voice a deep timbre. A flurry of emotions crossed behind his eyes.

"Sorry to disappoint." My words were clipped as I struggled to understand what I felt at the sight of him as well.

Tamlin and I had known each other for centuries. We'd witnessed each other grow up as we were forced to attend royal meetings between our courts, him with his father and brothers, and me with my uncle, father, and cousins. We'd seen the best and the worst sides of each other. And yet...