Tw: this book will deal with triggering topics. If you are easily triggered this is not the story for you, thank you.
(Book two in the Starlight series)
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Danika Archeron had been through hell.
Forced to go back to Spring C...
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"Destroying everything seems like the best option."
─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
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"HOW DID you meet Tamlin?" I questioned in the same clearing the next day. The sun shining a little bit brighter through the clouds and lighting up the now green clearing filled with popping flowers.
Something I had created. Born from my magic and sourced from the beginning of spring. It was beautiful.
But my focus was not on the now colorful clearing, my focus was trained on the High Lord as I studied his every movement. Reading his body like a language and gauging his every emotion.
Feyre had once told me what Rhysand's father had done to Tamlin's family. And...I couldn't help but wonder why.
Rhys's face was a mask of patience, "Show me something impressive, and I'll tell you. Magic—for answers."
"I know what sort of game your playing—" I scolded but cut myself off at the hint of a smirk. "Very well, you crude donkey." I didn't bother looking at Rhys as the words escaped my mouth.
I held my hand out before me, palm cupped, and willed silence into my veins, my mind.
Silence and calm and weight. Like being underwater.
In my mind, a butterfly of pure light danced and flapped. Leaving a trail of white wisps as it flew. My will became reality.
Rhys smiled a bit, but the amusement died as he did. "Tamlin was younger than me—brn when the War started. But after the War, when he'd matured, we got to know each other at various court functions. He..." Rhys clenched his jaw. "He seemed decent for a High Lord's son. Better than Beron's brood at the Autumn Court. Tamlin's brothers were equally as bad, though. Worse. And they knew Tamlin would take the title one day. And to a half-breed Illyrian who'd had to prove himself, defend his power, I saw what Tamlin went through...I befriended him. Sought him out whenever I was able to get away from war-camps or court. Maybe it was pity, but...I taught him some Illyrian techniques."
