A Court of Graves and Flowers

CHAPTER EIGHT

"CALLIE!"

"CASSIAN!"

"Mother, spare me."

Callisto and Cassian ran to each other while Rhysand shook his head at the two of them. As soon as Callie was within arm's length, Cassian swooped the female into his arms and spun her around. Callisto's laugh rang throughout her favorite sitting room – the little room that gave a view of the gardens outside had now become the place where she received her daily visitors.

Except today, it wasn't just Rhysand dropping by.

"Cassian, be careful," Azriel ground out at his friend, slowly walking over to the two of them as though he'd pry Callisto out of his arms.

"Shut up, Az. You've been with her for the past two days," Cassian countered, unfazed at the dark look on the Shadowsinger's face. However, he did put Callisto down.

"You're going to crush her in your huge arms, you idiot."

"Please, you're just jealous that my muscles are bigger than yours." This statement was delivered with a not-so-subtle flex of his biceps. "Besides, Callie isn't made of glass."

The female beamed at his words. She was glad that Cassian was treating her normally. She wasn't quite sure how to feel after being back. She'd somehow felt wrong—like she didn't quite belong. And everyone seemed to be walking on eggshells around her, treating her like she might break.

She was glad Cassian still saw her as the same old Callisto—the one who could keep up with them during training and best some of the fully trained Illyrian males at their camp.

"Your muscles might be bigger, but your wingspan isn't," Azriel easily retorted. 

"Says you," Cassian bit back.

"Mor and Amren agree."

"I do, too," Callisto chimed in, making Azriel smile wider.

Cassian pouted at her. "Traitor."

"Alright, alright, it's my turn," came a sultry female voice. A slim blonde figure pushed past Cassian, heading straight for Callisto.

"Mor!" She greeted in recognition, happy to see the other female. "Gods, you look as gorgeous as ever."

Mor laughed, drawing her cousin into a gentler hug than Cassian had. "This is why you're my favorite Illyrian."

"Hey!" Several voices complained, making Mor roll her eyes.

"Sometimes, I wonder why I bring all of you along," a familiar voice drawled.

Cassian stepped aside for his High Lord. Rhysand looked resplendent as always, dressed in a dark coat embroidered with the finest gold and silver threads—clearly a work of art from one of the shops in Velaris. His black hair fell around that handsome and aristocratic face, which was fixed into his familiar smirk. Callisto approached her brother, easily falling into his familiar embrace. "Well, Rhys, you have to admit that it would be terribly boring without them," she murmured against his chest.

Rhysand sighed. He was unable to argue because he was just too gods damned happy to hold his younger sister in his arms. Even though it had been a few days, he still couldn't quite believe that she was there. She was with them. She was alive. And she was safe. "After the events of these past few days, shouldn't you be craving a little boring?"

Callisto finally pulled back at that. The smirk on her face was a twin to the one he always sported. Behind her, Cassian was also grinning, and Rhys suddenly felt nervous.

"Asking Callisto to sit quietly in this manor while she's here in the Spring Court is like asking for another miracle, Rhys. I don't think even the Cauldron has the power to grant that," the general of his armies spoke up.