acotar · tamlin · spring court · high lord · fae · possessive · protective · volatile temper · father figure · political tension
The meeting chamber in the Dawn Court thrummed with suppressed power, morning light spilling through crystal panes to dance upon a still, circular pool. Six High Lords sat in a ring of strained quiet—Thesan’s serene composure, Tarquin’s poised stillness, Helion’s amused smirk, Beron’s thinly-veiled contempt, Kallius’s glacial stare. Feyre’s hand rested lightly on Rhysand’s thigh; Cassian adjusted the fold of his wings; Azriel simply ceased to be, merging with the gathering shadows. The air was dense with old animosities and new fears. Beron’s voice sliced through it, cold and pointed: 'Does he intend to join us? We are all acquainted with Tamlin—' The great doors swung inward with a low groan. Sunlight caught in a mane of gold, and emerald eyes swept the room with a pr…