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The storm had not been there a moment ago, but it broke loose when a snarl tore from Tamlin’s throat.
The wind whipped through the forest, violent and sudden, bending branches until the wood groaned in pain. Leaves tore free and spiralled across the forest floor, scattering like frightened creatures. Somewhere deeper in the forest, something large crashed through the shrubs. It was running, escaping.
As they all should.
Tamlin stood at the center of it, chest heaving. His eyes were aglow with gold, claws ripping through the tips of his fingers. Not a man anymore, but a force of nature, the wrath of Spring itself. Power radiated off him, wave after wave he couldn’t stop, couldn’t contain.
“Leave!” he roared, self-control slipping further, “All of you!”
With a booming crack a tree splintered, bark peeling back like a wound.
The Spring soldiers around him stumbled back, confusion and alarm mixing on their faces as they fled from the beast before them. The winds seemed to push them along, the air sharp on their skin as it chased them out of the forest.
Tamlin raked his hands through his hair, felt the claws scrape against his scalp. It did nothing to steady him. It never did.
“This is why,” he muttered, helpless as he paced, the leaves on the ground retreating from his feet, “This is why they look at me like that. Why they are afraid.”
The sky darkened further, clouds rolling in like an approaching army. Thunder rumbled overhead, low and threatening.
The sun was nowhere to be seen. It, too, had abandoned him. He’d driven it away with his temper, like he drove everyone away. Stupid, he thought, he was so stupid. What an embarrassment of a High Lord he was. He deserved to be alone. A beast unable to control his anger, dangerous, cursed.
Desperate now, he turned his face towards the heavens, feeling the electricity dance across his skin, waiting for lightning to lash out, to strike him just so he could break this noise in his mind. He could never escape this, the beast barely contained, caged in his own skin.
“Tamlin.” A voice he would always recognise, drowning out his frenzy.
He turned sharply.
Lucien stood at the edge of the clearing, cloak snapping in the wind, red hair whipping around his face. The storm leapt towards him but seemed to soften when it reached him. Instead of lashing his skin, it broke like water against rock, like something held back.
Hope flared, bright and desperate but Tamlin stomped it out, crushed it before it could undo him. His lips curled, “I told you to leave.”
Lucien crossed his arms and met his gaze, unafraid, “And yet, here I am.”
Tamlin balled his hands into fists as he wrenched his gaze away, felt the claws tear his own skin. A branch snapped and crashed to the ground behind him with a sorrowful moan. A cluster of birds burst forth from the tree, cawing loudly as they scattered in a panic.
His eyes flared brighter, “Don’t be stupid, Lucien.”
“Stupid? I’m not the one trying to uproot half of my own court!” Lucien snapped.
Predictably, that did not help. The ground trembled beneath Tamlin’s feet, vines twisted and tightened, the soil itself reacting to the anger in his chest. It was crushing him, choking him.
“Go. Away.” The words were shaper now, his voice nothing but a snarl.
Lucien stilled for a moment, then stepped forward. Towards the eye of the storm, towards Tamlin. The wind struck out at him but faltered, fracturing into harmless currents around him.
He spoke calmly, “We both know you’ll feel bad about this, that you’ll regret this tomorrow.”
Tamlin barked a laugh, the sound harsh and devoid of humour. The despair was clawing up his throat, trying to break out of his chest, “I already regret many things.”
Another crack of thunder. There was the smell of impending rain on the air.
Unconcerned with the storm around him, Lucien took another step towards him. “You think this is a curse,” his voice cut cleanly through the howling of the wind, “That you’re doomed to break everything you touch.”
Tamlin thrust his claws out at the destruction around him, both hearing and feeling the splintering of the trees, the flight of the animals. He had failed what he was supposed to protect. “Look around you!” His voice was raw.
“I am,” Lucien said, “And I see a High Lord throw a tantrum and blame the weather.”
The roar of thunder split the air, deafening as it detonated over their heads. Something wild and sharp rising in his chest, Tamlin stalked closer, looming over him. “You think this is funny?”
“I think,” Lucien continued, still calm, not shying away from his furious glare, “that you’re trying very hard to prove yourself right.”
Tamlin bared his teeth, “About what?”
“That you’re dangerous. That you’re unmanageable. That you will drive everyone away eventually.” Lucien tilted his head, “A convenient story.”
The ground shuddered beneath their feet. “Because it’s true!” Tamlin bellowed, “You’ve seen it!”
“I’ve seen you lose control,” Lucien corrected gently, “There’s a difference.”
Tamlin turned away, pacing frantically again. Then the words broke out of him, “People get hurt because of me.” There it was. The real cruelty of the curse.
Tamlin let out a sharp breath, something in his chest twisting painfully. “You should go,” he forced out, quieter now, “Before I- “
“Before you what?” Lucien raised a brow, “Bite my head off? Scare me away?”
Tamlin’s jaw tightened, “Yes.” He didn’t dare look at Lucien, couldn’t survive seeing him leave, too.
There was a pause from behind him. He was already bracing himself for the inevitable, when: “Look at me.”
A snarl rippled out before he could stop it, “I’m not in the mood for-“
“Tamlin.”
His attention snagged on the way Lucien said his name, unyielding and imploring, like it mattered. It was a lifeline and he clung to it.
He turned. Lucien was closer than he’d thought, almost within arm’s reach. There was no fear, no hesitation on his face. His face was as familiar to Tamlin as his own. He’d spent hours looking at him, memorising the shape of his lips, the lines of his scars, mesmerised by the faintest change of expression in those eyes that always seemed to see right through him.
He could hear Lucien’s heartbeat, steady and grounding, louder than the winds ripping at them. Constant, like the earth beneath his feet. His attention turned there now, as he noticed the warmth of the soil. Steady despite it all, unbroken.
“You’re more than your anger, Tam.” Lucien spoke again, softer now, shifting even closer, “You lash out because you care too much. You always try to shoulder it all. That never ends well.”
He reached out gently and brushed Tamlin’s tangled hair away from his face. Closing his eyes, Tamlin leaned into the touch almost desperately. He brought up his own hand, claws nowhere to be seen now, and covered Lucien’s.
“You’re trying. Trying to be a good ruler, trying to be better. That’s what counts.”
With every word he felt the tightness in his chest yield. As he exhaled slowly, the storm responded. The wind wavered, then softened, the trees no longer straining against it.
“You won’t scare me away.” Lucien said it like it was undisputable, as absolute truth, carved in stone. The darkness receded then. Something in Tamlin cracked, as he felt the anger and the despair finally, finally leave him. Had they seemed all-consuming before, they were now melting like ice under the Spring sun.
The clouds shifted above them, a sliver of sunlight breaking through and bathing them in warm gold.
“I gave you an order to leave.” Tamlin huffed, voice still rough but sounding like himself again.
“You did,” Lucien nodded solemnly, folding his hands behind his back, pretending to be chastised, “And I chose to ignore it.”
“Why?”
Lucien looked at him then without hesitation, mouth curving in a soft smile, “Because you’re not somebody I need to be afraid of.”
That did it. Tamlin stilled as the last of the wind faded. Slowly, the forest returned to its usual self, peaceful and alive. Leaves stopped swirling, branches settled and the birds picked up where they had abandoned their song.
“Besides,” Lucien drawled, a sly grin lighting up his face, “if there really is a curse, surely a proper kiss will take care of it?”
Tamlin turned his head to the sky again and roared with laughter.