A Court of Watchful Shadows

Calanmai

Drums boomed, and music thrummed through the hilltop, vibrating in harmony with laughter, chatter and clinking of glasses. Calanmai - fire night.

The hill was alive with celebration. Bonfires roared, their flames crackling like living beings, casting fiery glows that danced across the crowd. Shadows leaped and flickered, painting the trees and jagged rocks with erratic patterns of light and dark.

It was within those shadows that I lurked. Watching. Waiting.

I'd never thought of myself as someone warm—no beacon of cheer and sunny smiles that earned them in return. True, I'd inherited some warmth from my mother, the kind that flickered out every so often like a candle in a draft. She was the only one who'd ever coaxed it to burn brighter.

But for him, I was willing to try.

Him.

The male with auburn hair that gleamed like polished copper in the firelight. Sun-kissed skin glowed with an ethereal quality, even beneath the fox- mask that concealed half his face. Fitting attire, I thought. He was cunning and sharp, sly as the creature whose visage he wore. That's why I loved him—or at least part of the reason.

Lucien.

He stood with his friends, wine in hand, his body poised with a casual elegance that drew the eye as easily as the flames did. His mask couldn't hide the curve of his jaw or the slight tilt of his lips as he laughed. The sound made my chest tighten, made me ache to step out of the shadows and into his arms. But instead, I stayed hidden, content to watch him from the dark.

It was safer that way. Safer for him. Safer for me.

My position beneath Amarantha's reign made secrecy a necessity. While most of Prythian trembled under her rule, I'd made myself invaluable to her - at least, in her mind. A spymaster who whispered half-truths and gave her the illusion of control. She didn't know how much I kept from her.

She didn't know how much I'd done to protect Lucien.

Love. The word was a strange, foreign thing to me. Where there was once love for my father, now lay a hollow, rotting void. A void that Lucien had filled long before Amarantha's "blight" began. Before the fox mask, before she'd taken his eye.

"Thank you for finding her for me."

My thoughts shattered at the sound of that voice. Rhysand's voice.

I stiffened in my shadowy cloak, my gaze snapping toward him. He stood not far from Lucien, speaking with a human girl. Feyre, if I remembered correctly. The one destined to break Tamlin's curse. The one Lucien had risked everything for.

If Rhysand had taken an interest in her, it could only mean trouble. Trouble for her, for Lucien, for all of the Spring court.

I moved.

My shadows clung to me as I glided through the crowd, their whispers mingling with the laughter and music around me. They murmured secrets— petty ones, mostly. Who was bedding whom. Which High Fae planned to poison their rivals drink. I'd yet to hear a secret that shocked me.

Hell would freeze over before that happened.

Lucien stood apart from the crowd, dressed in the greens and browns of the spring court. The fine tailoring of his clothes spoke to the occasion, but there was a ruggedness to him no silks or embroidery could tame.

I reached him unseen, letting my shadows tease the back of his neck.

"I can feel you behind me," he said, not turning as he took a swig of his wine.

I smirked, stepping out of the dark. "Only because I let you, lover,"

He turned then, his rustic eye catching the firelight. My heart ached at the sight of it, at the memory of how Amarantha had maimed him. How I'd been powerless to stop her.

But he pulled me into his arms before I could sink into that memory. His kiss was passionate, the heat of it rivalling the bonfires around us. When he pulled me back, his gaze raked over me, taking in the light, flowing dress I'd chosen for tonight.

"You look beautiful," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "I have a gift for you-"

"It will have to wait," I interrupted gently, nodding toward the human girl.

Lucien's expression tightened, but when he followed my gaze, his frustration melted into understanding. "You don't miss a thing, Ziláa," he murmured, pressing a kiss to my forehead before striding off to intercept her.

I watched him go, my heart swelling and breaking all at once.

I lingered in the firelight, the weight of the night pressing down on me. Rhysand's presence in Spring wasn't just troubling; it was infuriating. Was I not enough of a spymaster for Amarantha? Did she distrust me so much that she'd sent her pet High Lord to check my work?

As if sending my ire, Lucien returned, his pine-tinged scent soothing me before I even saw him.

"What was she doing here?" I asked.

"Tamlin told her to stay inside," he replied with a huff of laughter. "Naturally, she didn't listen."

I let out a soft laugh of my own, shaking my head at her bravery—or stupidity.

Lucien looked down at me, his expression unreadable. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but the drums intensified, signaling the rite's beginning.

Magic filled the air, a shadowy mist only I could see. It coiled around us, binding, tempting, sparking the tension that always simmered between us.

"If the rite has Tamlin choose you, I'm shoving you into the shadows myself," Lucien joked, though his tone betrayed a flicker of worry.

I smiled up at him, nudging his hip with mine. "You know I'd vanish before it came to that."

His jealousy was sweet, even if he wouldn't admit to it.

The rite was a blur of magic and heat, a reminder of the power Amarantha had stripped from us all. But the night didn't end with the ritual.

Lucien's gift— a red haired baby doe—stole what little breath I had left.

"By the time she's grown, Prythian will be free," he promised, his voice heavy with conviction.

And though my shadows still lingered, his promise lit a fire within me.