A Court of Innocents

40: A Better Version

Two hours later, a knock sounded from the door. Heart in my throat, I rushed to answer it, coming face to face with Tamlin. Neither one of us spoke, too busy drinking in every inch of the other person.

His tunic was lined with gold, a symbolic nod to his growing alliance with Helion and his court. Whirls of the shimmering color traced the edges of his sleeves, but the rest was a deep, solid green. A clear representation of the home that he had worked so hard to save. But his pants and boots—they were made of the purest, deepest black.

That part was solely for my benefit.

He wore regality and charm like accessories, the definition of casual sexiness. No gaze would stay off him for long tonight.

His hair was tied back, which was probably a good thing. I didn't think I'd be able to keep from running my hands through it if I had the chance. But the crown atop his head—that was new. I'd seen the crown he usually donned in his court, remembered the gold wreath of spring's first flowers. It was not flowers on his head tonight, but thorns. A pale band of thorns entwined with ivy. Sharp and bold, especially considering that he wore it in another High Lord's lands. The simple act of wearing that crown would be enough to turn heads. Especially considering that those thorns hinted at something darker beneath his charming regality.

I devoured the sight of him and was painfully aware of my lasting hunger. We had left so many things unfinished in that apartment.

Emerald eyes brushed down my body, that stare like a branding touch as he memorized every inch of exposed skin. My dress—a thin, satin fabric of softest green—connected over one shoulder and twisted around my chest. The bottom half was one material, slit up the sides until clasps of metal ivy joined it above my hips. The pale mint color hinted at my innocence, while the dark makeup implied something dangerous lingering beneath the surface.

The dress—his favorite color.

The woman wearing it—his bride of spring.

One day, at least. The mating vows had yet to be exchanged, the rituals not yet performed, but one day... I'd be his, and he would be mine, in body and soul and spirit, and nothing else would matter.

For now, we had parts to play.

Tamlin seemed to be... straining. Thick, calloused hands clenched at his sides until the veins became a clear, solid line of blue. It seemed I wasn't the only one struggling to contain my urges.

"You look like the personification of power," I breathed.

That gaze returned to my face, to the hair that was pulled up to reveal my long neck. "You look..."

My eyebrows pulled together in a frown. I was very aware of the movement, worried that it might smudge the layers of makeup. But mainly I was worried that this entire thing was just... too much.

I've bedded whores who had more clothing on their person. Cruel words from a cruel, loathsome man, and yet Eris's voice ran through my mind now, twisting my insides. Perhaps this entire plan was too—

"You look like I never should have let you leave my side," he finally said, and something in my chest clenched.

I knew he wasn't referring to the cabin, or the meeting in the Night Court a month ago, or anything in our recent history. He meant the first time I had come to Spring, when Lucien and I had first escaped Autumn. When I had stayed there for all of one week before disappearing to Montesere.

He stepped closer. The finger he brushed down the side of my face was loving, coaxing, hungry, but he remained mindful of my makeup. "You look like every day I've spent without you has been a waste."