Winds of Fire [ACOTAR]

PROLOGUE

Tamlin paced through his study, his newborn baby wrapped in a blanket within his arms. Ten O'Clock Rhysand had said. And yet, an hour later than that, he and his mate were nowhere to be found. He wanted an alliance, but more importantly, he wanted protection. Not for himself. No, for his daughter. Primrose was only a few days old, and now Tamlin had to raise a daughter. A Lady of the Spring Court, his little lady. One of his rite lovers had birthed her, a young fae named Celeste. Hair of flames and eyes of sapphire, she had been the most alluring of the night. And so he had bedded her without a second thought.

The Autumn court female had shown up on his doorstep, quite literally, only months later claiming to be with child. Tamlin welcomed her in, though he did not care for Celeste, he did care for the babe within her womb. Primrose's birth had been the most agonizing thing Tamlin had witnessed. After almost twenty hours of labour, Celeste birthed a bouncing baby girl - healthy as a horse the midwife said. Though, the same could not be said for Celeste who died only minutes after she held her babe for the first, and last, time. Tamlin had hired a wet nurse for the baby, he would ensure she had everything she needed. No matter the cost.

Tamlin held Primrose close to him as he departed down to the foyer. A gust of wind had shaken the house, the only thing that alerted him to who had now entered his home. The High Lord and Lady of the Night Court stood at the end of his grand staircase. Rhysand had a hand on his wife's back as they stared up at him, a small smirk on Rhysand's mouth.

"Have you slept in the last three days, Tamlin?" Rhysand asked though concern was not the main tone of his question.

Tamlin scoffed, finishing his descent of the stairs and walking past his peers into the dining room. The large oak table seemed fitting for such a conversation and without a glance back, Tamlin took his place at the head. Primrose moved in his arms, settling her head against the warmth of his chest. He couldn't help but adore the point of her delicate ears or the freckles that painted her fair skin. She was beautiful, and she was his.

"What's all this about? It sounded rather urgent." Feyre asked, sitting down beside her husband who had taken a seat at the middle of the table.

Tamlin couldn't help but notice that her hand moved to rest on Rhysand's thigh. The room, though large, felt claustrophobic with the three (technically four) of them alone. Candles lined the room, dimly lighting their meeting. Tamlin hadn't changed his clothes since yesterday, and the odour of him proved so. He tried to ignore the glittery dress that fitted to Feyre's figure and the navy blue suit that Rhysand effortlessly wore.

"I need something. Please, here me out. All I ask is for protection-"

Rhysand chuckled, though a tight squeeze from Feyre caused him to push back his laugh. Tamlin rolled his eyes, gently rocking Primrose in his arms. Giving him a smile full of pity, Feyre nodded for Tamlin to continue.

"Not for me," He growled, "For Primrose."

It came apparent to him that Rhysand and Feyre, and all of the other courts, knew not of his child's gender, nor of their name. For the last few days, she had been his. It was like sharing a part of his very soul to the whole of Prythian, and he wasn't ready to share. But one day, one day he would have to be.

"I want you to promise, that should it be needed, you will do what is necessary to keep her safe. We all know the Night Court is the strongest when it comes to armies and forces, and I need to know that she will be taken care of. I'm... I'm begging you, Rhysand."

Rhysand nodded, taking in every word of what Tamlin had just said. Though he could not hear it, Tamlin knew he and his mate were now discussing what to say, how to act, how much of themselves to give to the man who had almost ruined everything for them. Seconds passed, maybe even minutes.

"A bargain. We will protect her if she provides an alliance between our courts." Rhysand announced, hands resting on the table as he stared down at Tamlin, at the bundle in his arms.

A growl sounded low in Tamlin's throat, "And how, exactly, do you plan on her doing that?"

Feyre spoke next, flicking her hair over her shoulder. Rhysand leaned back in his chair, a hand curved around his wife's shoulders. Whatever they had decided, they had decided together. Despite his prayers and hopes, he knew not to expect their kindness.

"Orion will be her betrothed, and on her 18th birthday, she will marry him and come live with him - us - in the City of Starlight."

The world exploded. His world exploded. Looking down at the girl in his arms, he couldn't breathe. He would never let her go. He couldn't. The fact that they dare suggest such an act was disgusting. Tamlin looked up at Feyre and Rhysand, fury burning in his emerald eyes. Had he not been holding Primrose, he would have flipped the very table at which they sat.

"Over my dead body." He hissed, bearing his teeth at them.

They sympathised. Of course, they did, they had a child of their own. But how could they be willing for Orion to also give up his chance of a future to marry the daughter of a rival court? Though, the spring court would no longer be a rival to them. Feyre's statement stood true. A wedding would form an alliance, would give Primrose the ultimate protection.

"She will be protected for as long as they are married and you will have the night court as an ally as long as she complies. Is that not fair?" Rhysand purred, watching how tightly Tamlin held his daughter. Her small hand had moved and now rested against his fingers, gripping around one tightly. Almost as if to comfort him, to remind him that she was there.

Tamlin nodded, words would betray him if he were to speak them now. Rhysand stood, walking toward the High Lord and his daughter, settling atop the table beside them. A bargain Rhysand had said. Within the night court, it was a custom for bargains to be permanently marked upon flesh. Rhysand smiled down at Primrose and within a blink, spirals of black ink covered her left ring finger. Fitting, figuring she was now betrothed to their son. Rhysand and Feyre winnowed away without another word.

Tamlin focused on the squeeze of his daughter's fingers, the sounds of her breathing. A tear escaped his eye as he thought of her future. How brilliant she could be, how he had planned for her to change the spring court for the better. All of that had vanished with a single bargain. And it was all his fault.