A Court of Graves and Flowers

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Tamlin strode through the grand hallway, his footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. He adjusted the gilded clasp of his green tunic, the fabric shimmering like sunlit moss against his skin. He had barely stepped out the front doors when a flash of black and silver materialized from the gardens. He paused, noting the return of Callisto and Azriel from their morning training.

He had not seen the Lady of the Night Court since their little exchange in her bedroom from the previous night. Callisto also paused once she spotted him, noting the way he looked. He was dressed for the part of a High Lord in every sense. The bespoke green tunic, woven with intricate gold filigree, flowed over his tall frame, the emerald shade mirroring the color in his eyes. His baldric of knives, polished to a mirror shine, sat heavy across his chest, a reminder of the warrior beneath the courtier.

But Tamlin wasn't the only one sporting a new look that day.

Callisto, clad in Illyrian leathers that had arrived just that morning courtesy of Azriel, moved with a newfound confidence. The clothes hugged her form, which had filled up quite nicely over the past few days. Gone was the gaunt look and the frail frame, replaced by honed muscles and hard-won strength.

"Well, well, Lady of  Night," Tamlin teased with a sly grin, "sporting the Illyrian garb today, are we? I guess if I have to endure these unnecessary plumage, you get to indulge in your leathers."

Callisto met his gaze, her lips curving into a mischievous smile. "Don't think you get to comment on my attire, High Lord, unless you want me to dissect your choice of wardrobe."

Azriel, who had been silently observing the exchange, raised an eyebrow, surprised by the playful banter. In all his years knowing Tamlin, he'd rarely seen him smile, let alone engage in teasing like this. Yet, there it was, a genuine grin warming Tamlin's usually stoic features.

"Actually," Tamlin interjected, his voice softening, "I was just going to say the leathers look good on you."

The words hung in the air, charged with unspoken meaning. Tamlin's eyes, for a fleeting moment, lingered on the way the fabric clung to Callisto's curves, the healthy weight she'd regained filling out the Illyrian clothes in a way that made it difficult for him to look away. It was a flicker of something deep within him, a spark of something he hadn't allowed himself to feel in a long time.

Callisto, catching his gaze, felt a blush creep up her neck. The way he looked at her, the subtle appreciation in his eyes, sent a jolt through her. It was dangerous, venturing into this territory, yet she couldn't help but be drawn in. "They suit you," he added, his voice barely a whisper.

Azriel had no idea what in Hel was happening, but he didn't like it. Especially when he scented a change in the air. He cleared his throat, desperate to make his escape before he had to witness whatever...this was. "Callisto and I were just heading to lunch." If he didn't lose his appetite between the two of them.

"Right then," Tamlin murmured, although his gaze was still on Callisto. "I should let you two eat. I'm sure you're hungry."

Callisto's brow furrowed as Tamlin brushed past them, his words leaving a trail of unspoken tension. "Where are you off to?"

Tamlin paused. He turned back to answer her question. Unable to resist staying. It was like she wielded some sort of siren's spell over him. "Just checking on my people, as any half-decent High Lord should. Making sure they're safe and secure, you know. All that boring leaderly stuff."

Callisto wasn't fooled by his flippant tone. "You're barely healed," she reminded him. "You shouldn't be gallivanting around the Spring Court just yet."

Tamlin shrugged. "I'm fine, and I don't need coddling, as adorable as your concern is. Although," he added, that grin returning, "if you're so worried, I'm always up for a few rounds in the training yard. I might even let you win a couple of times."