A Court of Curse and Roses; acotar

𝕾𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖕𝖍𝖎𝖒

Tamlin does not speak to me for days.

I catch glimpses of him as the sun rises and falls. He is often pacing in his office. Or cursing the cauldron as he stalks around the gardens. And each night, he murmurs to himself as he goes over parchment on the dining table. His claws are always out, his body taut and stressed.

A day ago, as I left the kitchen with a stolen pastry, we stumbled into each other. The High Lord asked if I was feeling better. I had opened my mouth to reply when, without waiting for a response, Tamlin had hummed and stalked in the other direction.

I carried my pastry to my bedroom and tried not to let the loneliness eat me up.

At least in Velaris, my work had kept me busy. Between Cassian's visits, I was always too tired after cleaning to bother with maintaining other company. I was content. But here, since Hybern's awful visit, I find myself more entertained by the teetering of the gardeners outside my window than anything else.

This morning, the sun teases me.

I stretch in bed and my muscles ache. I have hardly moved from my room in days. I need to do something. How will I enact my revenge by sleeping in and eating pastries?

As I dress in loose clothing, I look at my healthy appearance in the mirror and decide that today, I will train myself. Tamlin is too preoccupied with Hybern, so I will train for both of us. The first aim is to find a sword.

I tie back my long hair and peer at myself again. The dark circles under my eyes have faded and a glowing fullness has returned to my skin. Even the ache in my heart has dulled. The Spring Court has given me life. And in that life is the blossomed ache for something offbeat - revenge. I let myself smile, although my eyes still remain dark and hardened.

Heart break has taken a part of me I fear I will never get back.

***

I spend an hour peering into derelict rooms until I finally find the armoury.

Like the rest of Rosehall, this room isn't maintained. Vines creep through the marbled flooring and snake up the wall. They even drip from the ceiling, thick and gnarled.

A thick layer of dust has settled over the racks of weapons. But, the racking of swords is covered in something thicker. I sniff. Blood. I step closer and try not to retch. Each sword glistens with thick, red blood.

I try not to think about the blood as I choose the cleanest sword and leave the room.

Goosebumps crawl up my skin as I shut the door behind me. I can't help but wonder how many have fallen victim to the High Lord's sword. Has he been a fair High Lord? Has he killed innocent people?

Suddenly, my mind fills with only pure fear toward my High Lord mate.

I reach the end of the hallway and step into the foyer when I hear a voice grumbling to itself.

Tamlin. Oh no.

He must be in his office.

I use both hands to hold the sword off the ground as I tiptoe on the pads of my feet toward the back garden. I clench my shoulders inward, trying to make myself as little and insignificant as possible. I reach the doors and am one foot into the garden when a growl stops me.

"Do you plan on stealing that or using it Persephone?"

I spin around.

Tamlin stands behind me, thick arms crossed on his chest. His blonde hair loose and swaying in the breeze. His eyes look weary but amused.

He's making fun of me.

I lift my head, despite the fear that grips me, and say, "I'm using it, of course,"