A Court of Graves and Flowers

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Dawn painted the sky in hues of rose and gold as Callisto swooped down from her morning flight, Illyrian leathers already glistening in the soft light. She landed in the gardens behind the manor, her boots cushioned by the dew-kissed grass.

Tamlin, she assumed, would be waiting at the training grounds, ready for their usual sparring session. Yet, as she entered the gardens, an unexpected figure caught her eye. A man, tall and lean, stood near a fountain, his back to her. His hair, a fiery cascade of red, rivaled the blooms in their summer glory. With her curiosity piqued, Callisto approached cautiously. As if on instinct, her hand rested on the hilt of the Illyrian dagger at her hip.

The stranger turned, revealing a face that stole her breath. His face, tanned and handsome, held a spark of mischief in one eye—a brilliant russet that seemed to appraise Callisto with calculating precision. The other, however, was crafted from glinting gold, an unnatural gleam that sent a shiver down her spine.

Her own surprise was reflected on his face as he caught sight of her.

"By the Cauldron," he breathed, his voice a deep baritone, "you look exactly like Rhysand."

The mention of her brother's name, spoken with unexpected familiarity, left Callisto on edge. Trust and suspicion warred within her. "And you're from the Autumn Court," she countered, her voice cool and sharp. "Did Beron send you? Has he finally decided to respond to Tamlin?"

A flicker of fury flared across his face at the mention of Beron, but it was quickly masked by a raised eyebrow. "Tamlin, huh? And how do you know him?"

Callisto stood tall, her gaze unwavering. "He's my friend, and I would appreciate it if you answered my question first. Who are you, and why are you here?"

Just then, a burst of laughter shattered the tension. Tamlin, his face beaming, strolled towards them, sleep still clinging to him like an errant mist. "Lucien! You've finally decided to show your face here again!"

Lucien arched an eyebrow at Callisto, looking almost . . . smug. He then turned to Tamlin, embracing the High Lord of Spring. "Just thought I'd drop by, old friend. I'm glad to see you're looking much better."

Although Lucien spoke in the same light tone as Tamlin, Callisto could detect a hint of genuine relief on the man's face.

Callisto cleared her throat, her presence finally registering on the two Fae males. Tamlin, a sheepish grin replacing his surprise, pulled away from Lucien. "Callisto, meet Lucien. My trusted friend and ambassador . . . if he still wants the job."

The two shared a look, silently communicating something. Then Tamlin continued on, moving to Callisto's side. His hand wrapped around her waist, an action that came almost naturally. Even Callisto felt it was right as the weight of his touch settled on her hip. "And this is Callisto. She's been instrumental in the recovery of the Spring Court."

Lucien's golden eye flickered to Callisto, a hint of understanding replacing its initial curiosity. In that silent exchange, he knew what Tamlin left unspoken: that she was more than just instrumental to the Spring Court. She was the light that had pulled Tamlin back from the precipice, the warmth that had melted the ice around his heart.

Lucien gave a low bow, bending at the waist. "A pleasure to meet you, Lady Callisto. I dare say, I never thought I would hear someone from the Night Court refer to themselves as a friend of Tamlin's. Have I been gone that long?"

Callisto felt Tamlin's flicker of surprise at the word friend, and she ignored the look he gave her as she settled her cool, purple gaze on Lucien. "And I never thought I would meet another of Beron's sons. After I was introduced to Eris, I wasn't exactly eager to meet the rest of you."