Hyacinth (Tamlin's Healing Arc)

Chapter Twenty Two

"You're not coming with me, Cin," Tamlin shook his head vigorously.

"Oh, relax," she waved him off, "I can't fight to save my life. I'd be more of a burden than I'm worth."

"Then why is there food packed in your satchel?"

"Because you don't have a bag, genius. You'll need provisions if you plan on trekking to the nagga camp and back," Cin snapped the satchel shut and extended it toward him. "Don't forget your promise, okay? Come back."

"What's causing you so much anxiety? Do you really think I won't be able to handle myself?" Frustration tinged his voice, and Cin couldn't evade it. It wasn't that she doubted him; she knew how powerful he was, even without her blessing.

"It's not your abilities I question," she lowered her gaze, "It's the nagga, Tamlin. They're ferocious."

"Well, lucky for me, I'm a warrior before I'm a High Lord," he shrugged, taking a step back and nodding toward the doorway. Cin walked ahead of him, leading them to the oak doors. They paused only when they reached the top of the granite steps.

"Wait," Cin whirled around and held out her hand, "Give me your dagger's holster."

"What?" His brows furrowed in confusion, "Cin, my dagger is sharp enough. It's made of Illyrian steel—"

"Not the dagger, Tamlin. Just the holster," she repeated, turning to the wall of roses and waving her hand over the nearest bloom. The rose shrank into a bud, and when it blossomed again, it bore nightshade berries.

Plucking a handful of the berries, Cin stood up and Tamlin unbuckled his holster, holding it out to her. She dropped the berries into the holster, motioning for him to slide the dagger into it, allowing the blade to slice into the berries and soak in their essence.

"Nightshade?" he asked.

"Nightshade," she answered with a close-lipped smile. "Don't cut yourself, avoid contact with open wounds, and most definitely, do not ingest it."

"Thank you," he gave her a curt nod, twisted, and leapt from the top of the steps, shifting mid-air. Where Tamlin had taken flight, the Beast of Spring had landed on the walkway below. Her heart pounded in her chest as he bounded down the path and vanished into the Western Woods at breakneck speed.

Cin wanted to retreat into the Manor, to start working on the area she planned to clear of vines as a distraction. Or perhaps to cook, clean, or salvage furniture from the undamaged rooms. But she couldn't bring herself to move. She was rooted to the spot, her gaze fixed on the Woods. Sinking to the cold granite ground, she drew her knees to her chest.

Hour after hour, she sat and waited. With each passing hour, her fear and anxiety intensified, suffocating her. The sun dipped below the horizon, and darkness enveloped the Spring Court like a shroud of decay.

What if Tamlin was injured? What if he had been killed? How would I know? How would any of us know? He promised Astrella he would meet her after dark. Should I go to the riverbank and check if he's there? But what if I arrive and he returns here, injured and in dire need of help? The thoughts overwhelmed Cin, threatening to tear her soul apart with worry. The questions and panic rendered her motionless.

And when the sun finally rose the next morning, dispelling the darkness, Tamlin's golden hair shimmered through the trees. He emerged from the Woods not as the Beast, but as Tamlin. Covered in dirt, blood, and tatters of clothing. Yet, he appeared relieved to be home.

Cin let out a gasp, and for the first time since he had left, she found the strength to rise. Her legs, arms, and every part of her ached and tingled from the vigil she had kept. Yet, nothing could deter her from sprinting across the courtyard toward him.

Cin collided with Tamlin, who caught her in a tight embrace, staggering back against his heels from the impact. She didn't care that tears streamed down her face or that he ran his hand over her tightly curled hair.

Tamlin was alive, and he was unharmed.

"I knew you were worried," he whispered against her ear. "But if I had known you were this worried, I would have returned sooner. I'm sorry, Cin."

His soft voice in her ear sent shivers dancing across her skin, and as she took a step back, she knew in an instant that something had changed between them. She had been denying it since the Saorsa Festival, but this change was undeniable.

With this change, Cin knew one thing with absolute certainty: she would give her life to save him if it ever came to that. And it wouldn't be solely because he was her High Lord.

"So," Cin cleared her throat, turning to lead him to the Manor, "how was it? Did you get all of them?"

"Oh, yeah," Tamlin chortled as they walked side by side. He launched into the tale of how he had arrived at the nagga camp and discovered six of them. It took longer than expected to eliminate them, but he succeeded. Then he searched the river in case there was one in the water, but fortunately, there wasn't. Tamlin had wrapped the bodies of the two wraiths and transported them to the river, where they would have a Passing ceremony. He believed it was best for him to stay for it.

According to Tamlin, the wraiths seemed more appreciative of his presence than he had anticipated. He showed respect for their fallen sisters and, by killing the nagga, restored their food source.

"Do they hold those ceremonies underwater?" Cin asked, following him up the staircase and pausing on the top step.

"Shapeshifter, remember?" He winked at her before leaving her in the foyer and ascending the stairs again. Tamlin had fixed up his old bedroom, improving it, and used his own bathing room. Cin hadn't visited those rooms; she hadn't deemed it appropriate.

He must have given himself gills to stay underwater with them. While Tamlin rinsed off the residue from his journey, Cin wandered to the Rose Garden in the central courtyard. She dropped to her knees and began cultivating plants to grind into spices: rosemary, thyme, parsley, and more.

She didn't know what she would make for breakfast, lunch, or supper yet, but replenishing the spice cabinet seemed like a good starting point. Once she had gathered enough, she bundled them up and stored them in a makeshift pocket she had fashioned from the hem of her dress. She couldn't recall where she had left her apron.

"Tam—!" Cin abruptly stopped. Tamlin stood in the open doorway, the back of his tunic darkened where his wet hair clung to his back. "Are you alright?"

She approached him with quick steps, moving swiftly across the checkered foyer floor without breaking into a run. Tamlin's gaze was fixed on a hastily woven basket, its edges still frayed, containing a dozen fish.

"It's from the wraiths," he said in a low voice. "I saw the little ones weaving baskets just like this last night." His eyes were wet as he glanced at her. "They don't need my deliveries anymore."

She understood the overwhelming significance of this gesture for him, the weight it carried. Cin reached down and picked up the basket, passing it to him, and said, "Gratuity."

"Gratuity," he nodded, tears escaping as he took the basket from her hands. Tamlin placed the fish in the kitchen's icebox, and before she could inquire about his plans for the basket, he was already jogging up the staircase.

Silently, Tamlin marched all the way to what had once been Feyre's paint studio. After she had helped clear the vines and scrub the surfaces, he hadn't asked for her assistance in the room again, and Cin had assumed he intended to seal it off.

But the room had transformed. The decor had become more light-hearted and open. The marble flooring had been replaced with wooden floorboards, and the windows now featured stained glass portraying his parents and brothers.

Beneath his mother's window, Tamlin had positioned a long table covered in velvet that spanned the room. He walked to the end of the table and placed the basket on the second velvet cushion.

The first cushion held the emerald gem she had given him.

This was his Room of Gratuities.