A Court of Curse and Roses; acotar

𝖁𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖗𝖆

I step into a marvellous, dimly lit dining room, dressed in a bittersweet, peach floor-length gown. A dagger is strapped to my thigh, slightly visible through a slit in the shimmering fabric. My long dark curls hang loose. I look strong, battle-ready, and I can see it in the way Jurian looks up at me that I have dressed appropriately. Across the table, Tamlin pauses, his sentence hanging unfinished in the warm evening air.

Outside the dining room, the view is immaculate. An expansive, tranquil lake rests in-between rows of towering oak trees. Autumn Court has my breath stolen out of my throat. I look toward Beron, the High Lord, and at the smug expression on his face as he shovels meat into his mouth. He is pathetic, I think, he is a Lord that does nothing to prepare for the impending doom coming to his captivating Court.

"Come Persephone, sit next to me," A gruff voice commands and I look across the room. My eyes meet Tamlins as he gestures to the empty seat next to him.

As forks clutter and clang, I sit next to Tamlin and examine Beron's sons, all four of them more sharp-eyed and bright-haired than the other. They are all handsome, but there is a dark cunning behind their dark eyes. Like father, like son.

I drink deeply from my wine glass.

Beron is the first to break the silence. His fork clatters to his plate and he leans back in his chair, wiping his mouth. He smirks, "I'm glad to see your mate has stopped bleeding on my floor," he says and looks at Tamlin, "Women have a tendency to bleed a lot, don't they? It gets a bit tedious, after a few centuries,"

Tamlin lowers his fork to glare at the taunting High Lord. Beron does not falter under the look. I wonder who would tear each other apart the fastest, my bet is on Tamlin and those deadly claws, the beast form I witnessed yesterday. I leave my food untouched and gulp back more wine.

"Carrying on," Beron taunts with a smirk, "How is Hybern looking in terms of numbers? Does he still have those terrible nagas under his command?"

Across the table, Jurian grimaces as Tamlin replies, "Yes, amongst other beasts," he pauses, "Although, I have heard the Night Court has acquired a few beasts of their own,"

Over the rim of his wine goblet, Beron raises his thick, orange brows. "Is that so?"

Tamlin cuts into a piece of meat, the knife on the plate screeches as he gives an astute nod but no reply. Down the table, Beron's sons look at each other with smirks. One, with orange hair so long it reaches down to his tunic, opens his mouth as his dark eyes glint with wicked intent.

"I've heard the only beasts they've acquired is those foul women they keep," the son remarks with a sneer, "Notably the Morrigan, who lays with as many men as she slaughters,"

Beron tips back his head and guffaws, his fist bangs on the table in humoured delight. The son sits back in his chair with a smirk, eyes boring into Tamlin and me as he waits for our reaction. I keep my face perfectly cold, although my fist aches to punch his snide, pleased face.

Another son, who appears to be the eldest, sits forward in his chair, placed beside his fathers. His face is indifferent, older, and his eyes are kind as he looks at Tamlin and says, "When does the final battle commence?"

Tamlin looks back at him, his eyes slightly warmer as he replies, "At dawn, the Courts strike. They are meeting Hyberns forces near the coast, through the human realms. The Courts armies are strong, but they need reinforcement," Tamlin is grim as he stares down Beron and continues, "I have never seen an army like Hyberns - they are ruthless, wicked and enormous. The Courts will need our aid in order to win this war,"

Beron rolls his eyes, "This is not my problem Tamlin, I have no quarrel with Hybern."

Tamlin slams a fist down on the table, "He will tear your Court to pieces Beron. You have seen the damage my home has endured," he thrusts a finger toward the lake outside, the beautiful scenery, and scowls, "You will have nothing left but your smart mouth Beron. He will destroy your home, your family, your throne. You are a fool, hiding away like a simpering doe, and your people will pay the price for your cowardice,"