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A Story of Light and Claw (ACOTAR Series)

The sun slowly disappeared below the horizon, and in its place, giant pyres of fire sent smoke rising up over the hills. The fires scorched the sky, leaving behind deep hues of red, pink, and orange. The growing pit in Amatis' chest threatened to consume her, the well seeming to burrow deeper and deeper inside her with every passing second. The brighter the fires blazed, the closer her fate seemed.

True to his word, Tamlin had not come out of his room since the sun started setting. He outright refused to perform the ceremony. There would be no surprises, no last-minute entrances, and no sweeping acts of self-sacrifice from him, not for Amatis' sake anyway. He had thrown her upon the mercy of the ritual - the only saving grace was that Helion would face it with her tonight.

After weeks of longing for his company, Amatis would finally be able to feel his warmth again - one fleeting night was a cruel exchange for the debauchery she had to endure in its stead. It was the only thing that stopped her from fleeing the Court, that and the threat promised by the tattoo over her arm. She traced the swirls with her fingernails. The mark was uncharacteristically silent in recent days, almost as if it was a slumbering beast waiting to strike. Rhysand must have grown tired of spying on them, too occupied with lying to his wife. She muttered a curse to herself under her breath.

She continued to trace the tattoo, following the winding lines until she reached the bottom where nestled in all the dark ink, was Helion's ring. The gold band on her finger seemed to mock the bargain she had made, perfectly mimicking Helion's smug smirk. It was as if the ring said "I'm still here, and I'm not going anywhere."

Bright, buzzing sprites danced in circles over her head, their laughter tinkling like glass. Every once in a while, one of them would dart down and kiss her on the nose, before darting back up into the air. Although she desperately wanted to share in their child-like amusement, the tightness in her throat suffocated her joy. She couldn't hide in the manor much longer.

Amatis made her way across the lush fields and flowers of the garden to where the pyres lay, taking a deep breath. She would have to thank the servants for the long dress, which masked her unsteady step beneath a petal-shaped silhouette. Unfortunately, there was nothing in her attire to mask the bleak, sickly pallor of her face.

"You look resplendent, my lady," a male said as she glided by. He was already a few too many into a cask of wine. His breath stunk of holly-fallow and gooseberries, a sickly sweet scent.

"Thank you," she said kindly, bowing her head in response. He drunkenly returned to his flagon and the busty doe-eyed female, who filled it generously.

She could feel the pitying eyes upon her, or rather the vacant space at her side. Rumours had already spread of Tamlin's apathy towards her and his own court. He'd refused emissaries at the border, ignored summons from other courts, and openly spurned invitations from his friends. Worse than that, he'd done nothing to disparage the growing whispers about why she of all the fae was stationed in his court, another High Lady to be.

Amber eyes scanned the crowd anxiously, hoping for a glimpse of Helion; of his white flowing robes and crown of light. Brown, blue, violet, red and green darted across her vision, but she saw none of that searing gold. Had he forgotten about her? Had the months apart lessened his affection for her? Her heart was pounding so loudly in her ears that it made her palms slick with sweat.

Amatis stepped onto a small stone platform and addressed the gathered crowd with a sweeping gesture, "Welcome all to the Spring Court, for our most favoured festival, Calanmai!" Her voice betrayed her, showing her nerves. The tender inside of her cheeks was muscled between her teeth as she gnawed at her own skin, tugging and tugging at anything she could latch onto. Where was Helion?