A Court of Graves and Flowers

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Callisto woke to a symphony of contentment. The sun, a mischievous intruder, peeked through the window, painting playful stripes across her closed eyelids. But the warmth beside her was all she needed. She inhaled the scent of musk and sandalwood.

Tamlin.

He was sleeping beside her, his chest rising and falling with a steady rhythm while his arm draped loosely across her waist. A contented sigh escaped her lips as she burrowed deeper into his embrace, savoring the lingering embers of their shared passion. The drums of Calanmai, a distant echo in the recesses of her mind, were replaced by the soft melody of his steady breaths.

Yet, a persistent buzzing began to gnaw at the edges of her contentment. It grew louder, more insistent, tickling her cheek with cool tendrils that disrupted the blissful haze. Groaning, Callisto swatted at the air, her eyes clenched shut.

"Go away, Astraeus," she muttered, her voice thick with sleep. But the buzzing only intensified, morphing into a high-pitched whine that vibrated in her skull.

One eye cracked open, a sliver of amethyst glaring at the source of the annoyance. Astraeus hovering near the window. His opaque form pulsed with an agitated light. Suddenly, a flicker of understanding sparked in her sleep-fogged mind. The buzzing wasn't random. It was a message, an urgent plea from her shadow.

"Cauldron, damn me!" The curse that ripped through the room like a whip. Callisto shot up, sending Tamlin stirring beside her. He blinked, disoriented, his gaze landing on Callisto, who hurriedly snatched her gown from the floor.

"Callisto?" He groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "What is it?"

Callisto, her eyes burning with a newfound urgency, pulled her dress on with trembling hands. "We need to go. Now."

Tamlin watched with a growing knot of unease in his stomach. The morning light, streaming through the window, seemed to cast a stark shadow over her hurried actions.

"Callisto," he said, his voice tinged with dawning fear. "Are you leaving? Do you regret . . . what happened last night?"

Callisto's eyes softened, a vulnerability replacing the steely glint that had been there moments ago. She knelt beside him, the plush carpet beneath them still holding their mingled scents and the memory of their intertwined bodies. She cradled his face in her hands. "Tamlin," she murmured, her voice a secret whisper, "I regret nothing. Last night was . . . by the Mother, it was the best night I've ever had."

She leaned in, her lips meeting his in a kiss that was both tender and fierce. As she pulled away, a smile, sweet and mischievous, touched her lips. "But I don't want Azriel to kill you."

The name sent Tamlin scrambling to his feet. His eyes, wide and wary, scanned the room. "Azriel? Is he here?"

Callisto stood as well, her gaze meeting his with a steely resolve. "He's on his way. Astraeus warned me."

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The air crackled with tension on the training field. Callisto, clad in her familiar Illyrian leathers, stood poised like a predator, her hair tightly braided, a stark contrast to the tangled mess it had been earlier.

Azriel winnowed in, a flurry of black wings and shadows. He looked tired, yet his eyes were bright as he landed before her. "Callisto," he greeted in that melodious voice. "Heard about your... abilities. Quite a show you put on for Amren."

Callisto, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs, kept her distance. No hugs today, lest Azriel scent just exactly what she had been up to the night before. Still, she managed to plaster on her usual smile. "That? Oh, that was nothing. We were just practicing."