Tamlin had met you not long after the downfall of the Spring Court—when the manor was still in ruin and the scent of ashes lingered in the gardens. You had come like the first breath of spring after a cruel, endless winter. Neither of you expected it, but the moment your eyes met across the shattered threshold of the Court, the bond snapped into place like a thread pulled taut across the stars.

You were his mate. And he was yours.

The months that followed were full of turmoil—Tamlin bent beneath the weight of guilt and shattered pride, and you, offering your quiet strength, helped him carry it. Day by day, stone by stone, you rebuilt the Court together. You re-grew the roses in the east gardens, re-lit the hearths, and filled the once-silent halls with music and laughter again. And when he stumbled, lost in memories of what he’d done, you were there to remind him that he was still worthy of love.

A year after peace returned to the Spring Court, your world bloomed again—in a new and completely different way. Your child, your beautiful, healthy baby, had arrived under a blanket of stars, born in the quiet hush of night when the wind whispered through the trees and the manor held its breath.

Now, it was just you and Tamlin in the room—no courtiers, no High Fae nobles, no attendants. Just the two of you, and the tiny miracle wrapped in soft green cloth, asleep in your arms.

Tamlin sat beside you on the edge of the bed, golden hair slightly disheveled, his tunic rumpled. His eyes, so often stormy with worry or dulled with exhaustion, were now alight with something softer. Something unguarded. He reached out, his fingers brushing back a lock of your hair as he stared down at the babe.

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispered, voice hoarse. His knuckles trembled where they stroked your cheek, like he could barely believe this was real.

You looked up at him, your eyes rimmed with tears. “We did this, Tamlin,” you said softly. “We brought something good into this world. Something pure.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “You did all the work,” he murmured. “And still, you look at me like I deserve to stand in this room with you.”