Heir of Spring

City of Stars

Tamlin handed over one of his last pieces of silver to the female behind the stall. She smiled and gave Asta a little-braided bracelet, with silver star charms woven into it. They thanked her and continued down the cobbled street, shops filled with colourful paintings and breathtaking jewels and the cobblestones covered in frost from the chilling winter winds.

As much as Tamlin hated to admit it, he was amazed by the beauty of the city they walked through. The Sidra, running through the middle of the bustling town glittered like the diamonds on display in stalls nearby. He watched Asta grow more and more in awe of the city, so different from where she had grown up. He wanted to leave this place as soon as possible, and return to his court, before his fears that Asta will start to resent his broken court come true. 

"Come on Az. This way," Tamlin pointed down the street along the Sidra to a large stately house by the river. Asta furrowed her eyebrows. 

"Why is their house so big? And why is it daytime? This is the Night Court," She said suspiciously.

"I suppose things aren't always as they seem, Az. And there are lots more people that live with the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court than that live with us," Tamlin herded her closer to the house. 

"Shouldn't we have told them we were coming?" She asked, admiring the charms now adorning her wrist. Tamlin stared into the shadows critically, wondering if the Shadowsinger was watching them at this very moment.

"I'm sure they are aware I'm here." Tamlin increased his pace, wanting to get this meeting over with. "And I'm surprised they haven't kicked me out yet," he added under his breath.

***

Azriel braced himself as he dissolved into the shadows and swept through the city. He appeared facing a cozy living room, a roaring fire illuminating the friendly interior, and it's inhabitants. When Azriel saw his friends, so comfortable and at ease, he wished he didn't have to ruin the relaxed ambiance.

The Morrigan, wearing a turtle-neck and thick joggers sat by the fireplace, legs crossed beneath her. Opposite her sat Amren, staring uncommunicatively into the flames, absent-mindedly playing with the jewels hanging around her neck. Azriel's High Lady sat on the couch, curled up beside her mate. She was sketching something, and Rhys was watching her skilled hands create the image. In an armchair, Nesta sat with her eyes furrowed in concentration, with a book in her hands. Cassian stood above behind the chair, reading over her shoulders. He saw Azriel appear and grinned, pulling his favourite 'She's reading smut' face. Azriel smiled back and Cassian returned to fiddling with his mate's hair. Rhys noticed Azriel and smiled, but then saw his serious expression and stood up.

"What's the matter?" Rhysand asked, searching Azriel's face for any hint of an answer. "Is everything alright?"

"It's Tamlin," Azriel said quietly, and everyone but Nesta looked up, suddenly interested in the conversation.

"What does he want?" Mor asked, currently absorbed in shuffling a pack of cards and dealing them into lots of  little piles. Azriel shook his head. 

"I'm not sure, but he's brought someone. It must be the child Lucien has talked about."
Amren turned to the conversation.

"He's most likely come to talk. You know, that guilt that you people get. And then he's probably looking to trade. The Spring Court is in shambles."

Rhys snarled. "We don't want any business with the Spring Court." Feyre placed a hand on his arm.

"Our problem is with their High Lord, not the court itself." She said, tracing the swirls of ink on his arm. 

"So you would like to trade?" Asked Rhys, trying not to look too disgusted.