Wings of Spring

Chapter Seventeen

Tamlin

"Wake up!" a rough voice above me barks. I open my eyes a fraction of an inch to see three figures standing over me. My head throbs as a bright light washes over me.

"Tamlin, my son, get up." The voice belongs to my father. Cold dread slides through me at his words, the satisfaction in his voice. I sit up, my body aching from laying on the freezing stone floor. My father puts his arm under my shoulder and pulls me to my feet.

The world spins as I stand, but he places a steadying hand on my arm and leads me from the basement and into the foyer. The scent of blood hits me halfway up the stairs. I force myself to keep walking.

I blink against the bright light spilling in through the open front doors. The tang of blood is stronger here. Once my eyes adjust to the light, I see my brothers and several sentries standing in the hall. Both of my brothers step forward, each bearing something in their hands.

A roaring fills my ears at the sight of the bloodied Illyrian wings in their hands, one pair larger than the other. It takes every ounce of control I possess not to rip their throats out, to not sink to my knees. I can only stare at the wings with mute horror, fighting to not let any of the rage storming inside of me show.

"We have won a great victory against the Night Court this day," my father announces to the gathered sentries. "It is all thanks to my son, Tamlin."

A cheer goes up, but I can hardly hear it over the pounding in my ears. My mother appears from the dining room, her face paling at the sight of the wings. Our eyes meet, and I see the raw sorrow inside of the green depths.

My body shakes and shakes. I say nothing, wishing I could disappear. Underneath of the rage, I feel a deep sense of shame and guilt. I could have prevented this... I could have found a way to stop this.

The smug smile on my father's face snaps something so deep inside of me that I know there will be no coming back from this. My wrath finds those broken places and fills them with molten anger. I have failed my friend... my only friend. I wish he would come here and end this festering court... end me.

I turn to walk away, to go anywhere but here, but my father speaks again. "These are a gift for you, my son. A reward for your loyalty."

I force myself to meet his gaze and smile. "Thank you, Father. Perhaps they should be displayed in the study for all to see and know of our victory." The words are ash in my mouth. I nearly choke on them.

He nods, and my brothers carry the wings up the stairs. My father claps me on the shoulder before he follows. I suppress a shudder. When he is gone, my mother approaches me. "Walk with me, Tamlin."

I offer her my arm, and we walk out into the spring sunshine. The scent of roses and the beautiful, sweeping lawns mask the true darkness of this court. Instead of roses, there should be brambles and thorns. Instead of lush green trees, there should be twisted, dying ones.

My mother leads me deep into the gardens, and we sit on a fountain. The water splashes merrily, masking our voices. She kisses my cheek and whispers, "This isn't your fault, my son. You had to choose... your life or your friend's family. You did the right thing. I could not survive without you."

I wipe a tear from my mother's cheek, saying nothing. Her words are meant to soothe me, but they only fuel my anger. I muster a smile onto my face and say, "I know, Mother. Thank you."

The guilt eats at me for the rest of the day, sapping my energy and patience. Feigning illness, I retire to my rooms before the evening meal. I watch the sunlight fade, casting my room into shadows. A desire to reach out to Rhysand, to beg his forgiveness, chases me from my bed. I begin to pen a note, but the words seem weak on the page.

Night has fallen by the time I give up. My head throbs as I rise to my feet. Shadows flicker outside of the window, and the usual sentries are missing. Dread pulses through me as I crack open my bedroom door.

The house is utterly silent as the clock in the foyer strikes midnight. I glance down the hallway uneasily, casting my senses out like a net. When I find nothing amiss, I close the door and lay on top of the covers. Sleep evades me.

"Tamlin! Help me!" The scream shatters the stillness. I shoot to my feet and rip my door open. The scent of fresh blood hits my nose as footsteps race towards me. My mother, her nightgown tattered, barrels into me. "The Night Court..." she pants.

I push her into my room and shut the door. The High Lord appears a moment later, with a head clutched in his fingers. My father, his face frozen into a grimace, stares at me with dull and empty eyes.

My body drops into a defensive stance as the shadows around me begin to writhe. Talons dig into my mental shield, but they do not penetrate it. More movement at the end of the hall catches my attention. Rhysand races towards his father.

"You promised!" he shouts. "Our revenge is complete."

I glance down at my father again, and something awakens inside of me. Raw power floods into me as I meet those dead eyes. A beast roars beneath my skin, or perhaps, I roar as well. Both Night Court males turn to me, and I know they feel it too. My eyes lift to the face of my family's murderer and I strike.

The High Lord of the Night Court dodges my attack and darts past me. I overshoot and collide with Rhysand. He stumbles back, and I whirl. The door to my room hangs off its hinges.

Ignoring my friend, I dart to the doorway and freeze. My mother's body sprawls out on the floor, her head twisted at a grotesque angle. The newly awakened power inside of me surges out. Fur and fangs and claws erupt from my skin, and I pounce on the male.

Kill! Kill! Kill!

The words ripple through my head as my talons dig into the High Lord's shoulder. I see a promise of suffering in those hateful eyes. Before the shadows can strike me, I dig my long teeth into his throat and jerk back my head.

Blood fills my mouth, tasting of nighttime and power, as I rip out his throat. I hear Rhysand gasp behind me, and I turn to face him. I know my maw is darkened with his father's lifeblood, but those violet eyes are full of sorrow as we stare.

I see him wince as his father's power floods into him. His scent changes to one of raw darkness and jasmine. "Why, Tamlin?"

Those two words evaporate my rage and crack my heart open. I shift back into my own skin. I stare down at the floor, fresh guilt raw in the wounds of my soul. "Rhys..." Words fail me as the new High Lord shakes his head.

The sorrow in those violet eyes morphs into something darker, something familiar. I recognize it as rage similar to my own. "I'm sorry..." I whisper, knowing it will never truly be enough. "I'm so sorry."

My friend only shakes his head again. His voice is nothing more than a breath. "Don't tell me you're sorry. It's too late for apologies... my family is dead because of YOU."

I say nothing. Loneliness creeps into my chest, choking the words I know I will never have a chance to say back.

"I should kill you now for what you have done, but I have had enough bloodshed. Consider this the last act of friendship between us because if you ever step foot in my territory, I will end you."

Rhysand vanishes into the shadows before I can call after him. I quietly exit the room and wander into the garden. The moon shines illuminates the roses my father had planted for my mother as a mating gift. I fall to my knees and howl my grief and loss and anger at the silent night sky.