A Court of Chaos and Confusion - An ACOTAR Rewrite

Chapter 18

After a tense dinner during which Tamlin hardly spoke to Lucien or me, I lit all the candles in my room to chase away the shadows.

I didn't go outside the following day, and when I sat down to paint, I found myself instead being drawn to those poems Tamlin had given to me, the poems I'd partially memorized. I went back to the library with the beautiful mural and sat at the desk, taking out the pages and translating them to the letters I was familiar with. Once I was finished, I could see how the runes resembled some of the letters I knew, could see how the change had occurred, and line by line began to teach myself the runes.

Getting lost in my translations did nothing to fight off the chill that had remained in the Attor's wake, the feeling so intense I had to put down my translations and go try to persuade Alis to let me help with the Fire Night preparations in the kitchen. Anything to avoid going into the garden, where the Attor might appear.

The day of Fire Night – Calanmai, Tamlin called it – dawned, and I didn't see Tamlin or Lucien all day. As the afternoon shifted into dusk, I found myself again at the main crossroads of the house. None of the bird-faced servants were to be found. The kitchen was empty of staff and the food they'd been preparing for two days. The sound of drums issued.

The drumbeats came from far away – beyond the garden, past the game park, into the forest that lay beyond. They were deep, probing. A single beat, echoed by two responding calls. Summoning.

I stood by the doors to the garden, staring out over the property as the sky became awash in hues of orange and red. In the distance, upon the sloping hills that led into the woods, a few fires flickered, plumes of dark smoke marring the ruby sky – the unlit bonfires I'd spotted two days ago. Not invited, I reminded myself. Not invited to whatever party had all the kitchen faeries tittering and laughing among one another.

The drums turned faster – louder. Though I'd grown accustomed to the smell of magic, my nose pricked with the rising tang of metal, stronger than I'd yet sensed it. I took a step forward, then halted on the threshold. I should go back in. Behind me, the setting sun stained the black-and-white tiles of the hall floor a shimmering shade of tangerine, and my long shadow seemed to pulse to the beat of the drums.

Even the garden, usually buzzing with the orchestra of its denizens, had quieted to hear the drums. There was a string – a string tied to my gut that pulled me toward those hills, commanding me to go, to hear the faerie drums, see what was out there...

I might have done just that had Tamlin not appeared from down the hall.

He was shirtless, with only the baldric across his chest, no claws in sight. The pommel of his sword glinted golden in the dying sunlight, and the feathered tops of arrows were stained red as they poked above his broad shoulder. I stared at him, and he watched me back. The warrior incarnate.

"Where were you today?" I managed to get out.

"It's Calanmai," he said flatly. "I have to go." He jerked his chin to the fires and drums.

"To do what?" I asked, glancing at the bow in his hand. My heart echoed the drums outside, building into a wilder beat I couldn't explain.

His green eyes were shadowed beneath the gilded mask. "As a High Lord, I have to partake in the Great Rite."

"What's the Great – "

"Go to your chamber," he snarled, and glanced toward the fires. "Lock your doors, set up a snare, whatever you do."

"Why?" I demanded. The Attor's voice snaked through my memory. Tamlin had said something about a very faerie ritual – what the hell was it? From the weapons, it had to be brutal and violent – especially if Tamlin's beast form wasn't weapon enough.