A Court of Graves and Flowers

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Rhysand didn't fail to notice the frown marring his sister's beautiful face as she set those blazing purple eyes on him. Huh, he thought in amusement. I wonder if that's how scary I look when I'm angry at people.

"You're upset," he states out loud, that smile still playing on his lips.

And although Rhys appeared fine to everyone else in the garden, Callisto knew better. She saw the hint of hurt in her brother's eyes, and she tried to relax her stance. She released the breath she was holding, her wings ruffling behind her.

"I understand your concern, brother," she pointed out, her voice much gentler. Her purple eyes then turned pleading. "I understand your want to shield me from this. But, if there is a fight coming, wouldn't it be better for me to be prepared?"

Lucien's russet eye widened slightly as Callisto addressed Rhysand. His sister? But hadn't she...? His curious eyes turned to Tamlin, who simply nodded at Lucien. By the Cauldron, I've missed a lot.

Meanwhile, the Lord and Lady of the Night Court were still staring at each other. A muscle ticked in Rhysand's jaw, as if he were having some internal struggle. It was only Callie's voice in his head, cast to him with her daemati gifts that made him relax. Let other people in, Rhys.

"You are correct, dear sister," Rhys finally drawled, standing up straighter. The smile still lingered on his lips, but she knew that this show, this carefree Rhys that paraded before them, was for the two other males in the garden. "With the storm brewing, all of us need to be prepared. That's why I asked little Lucien here to prepare Tamlin for a meeting with me since we aren't exactly the best of friends."

Lucien growled at Rhysand's words, but Callisto's eyes flickered to Tamlin. The tension in the garden hung heavy, a cloak woven from unspoken histories and simmering hurt. Tamlin met Rhysand's gaze, not with fiery anger, but with a shadow of melancholy in his emerald eyes. The scars of their past battles remained, etched deep, but alongside them danced a flicker of something else – a wistful longing for the friendship they had once shared.

Callisto moved closer to Tamlin, and while Rhysand's expression remained aloof, he didn't fail to notice the concern shining in his sister's eyes as she looked at the High Lord of Spring. As if her proximity somehow gave him strength, Tamlin found his voice.

"Perhaps," he said, his voice rough with emotion, "the Cauldron had a plan after all. Not to put us in more conflict but to bring us together. To offer a chance to correct the past and face this new threat together."

A beat of silence. Rhys's face looked a lot more serious, his mind clearly thinking of the past that Tamlin spoke of. Yet, as he looked at his sister standing beside the High Lord without any anger in her, he felt that maybe Tamlin was right. Still, he wouldn't admit as much out loud. "Perhaps," was all he conceded.

But that was enough. A delicate smile bloomed on Callisto's face, a flower pushing through the frost of past grievances. Tamlin, catching her gaze, mirrored the smile, a flicker of warmth chasing away the shadows in his emerald eyes. He saw the pride she felt at his words, the recognition of the courage it took to extend an olive branch to her brother.

"Let's discuss further in my study," Tamlin announced, gesturing towards the imposing manor that served as his seat of power. The air, once heavy with unspoken tension, now hummed with a fragile hope as the two guests followed Tamlin and Callisto through the hallways.

Rhysand, ever the observer, noticed the subtle brush of Callisto's fingers against Tamlin's arm, a silent comfort. He turned to Lucien, a question lingering in his gaze. Lucien, with a knowing glint in his eyes, simply cocked his head to the side, a promise to clarify later. There would be time for explanations, but for now, the focus lay on the uncertain future, on the tense truce they had just forged.