A Court of Graves and Flowers

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

The tension in the Day Court's grand hall crackled like static electricity. Tamlin, his gaze lingering on Callisto's luminous siphons, tried to project an air of nonchalance, but the slight twitch in his jaw betrayed his nerves. The nine siphons, glowing faintly, seemed to amplify the weight of the impending meeting.

Helion, the High Lord of Day, was the next to arrive. His flamboyant and carefree demeanor seemed to be subdued today.

As he entered, his eyes fell upon Callisto, and for a moment, the ever-graceful Helion stumbled. His gaze lingered on the siphons, a flicker of awe and something deeper – perhaps fear – crossing his face.

Callisto, sensing his reaction, offered a reassuring smile. "Helion," she said, her voice warm, "thank you once again. Not only did you heal us, but you've offered your court as neutral ground for this... family reunion."

Helion, recovering quickly, gave a small bow. "The pleasure is mine, Lady Callisto. If it means aiding in the downfall of Beron's forces, my halls are open."

Callisto raised an eyebrow, her smile turning playful. "It seems you have secrets of your own to share."

Helion sighed, a flicker of sadness clouding his usually carefree eyes. "Later, my lady," he confirmed, his voice heavy with unspoken burdens. Callisto's curiosity about Helion's sadness was momentarily eclipsed by the arrival of the Night Court delegation. Rhysand, Nesta, Mor, and Amren materialized in the hall, their faces blank. Notably absent was Feyre, who Callisto assumed remained with Nyx.

Rhysand's gaze, usually filled with amusement and confidence, was momentarily fixed on Callisto's siphons. He didn't speak, the silence thick with the weight of unspoken questions and concerns. Nesta, as always, was a study in controlled emotions, but the flicker of silver in her eyes betrayed a surge of power. But it was Mor's face, etched with the memory of her father's death, that fueled Callisto's inner turmoil. Shame and guilt clawed at her insides.

Then, as if sensing the need to cut through the tension, Amren's voice rang out, sharp and unfazed. "It seems we all underestimated your power, girl," she stated, her eyes also fixed on Callisto's glowing siphons. "This is... unprecedented."

Rhysand finally spoke then, his gaze meeting his sister's across the room. Callisto nearly sagged to her knees at the emotions she saw swimming behind his eyes, and she was never more grateful to have Tamlin and Azriel on either side of her.

"Unprecedented," Rhys agreed quietly. "But perhaps, not unwelcome. We might need all the power we can muster in the coming battle."

"Unwelcome if she turns it against us," Nesta hissed, her gaze locked on Callisto.

Helion, sensing the rising hostility, tried to cut in. "Perhaps we should all sit down? Discussing . . . strategy on our feet is hardly productive."

But no one moved. Helion sighed, the sound echoing in the vast hall.

Callisto turned her amethysts eyes to the Valkyrie. Cassian shared a little about Nesta's own journey. It nudged her to respond with a bit of calm, even though Nesta's word still stung. "I had my reasons," she murmured.

Nesta struggled to rein in her own simmering anger. "Reasons? What reason could justify tearing through the Hewn City, defying Rhysand's authority?"

Callisto met her gaze unflinchingly. "Had Cassian been taken," she pointed out, "you would have done the same."

A scoff escaped Nesta's lips. "He's my mate," she reminded, her words laced with possessiveness.

Callisto held her gaze, her silence speaking volumes. Amren, rarely caught off guard, choked back a surprised gasp. Nesta frowned, confusion clouding her features. Rhysand, his mask of composure slipping, stared at Callisto in shock.