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Tamlin had kept his mother’s favorite ring for a special occasion. For a special person. He had kept it for nearly 250 years, without ever finding a female to offer it to. Then had come Feyre. She was going to marry him, she was going to be his wife and… he was going to give her the ring.
But he hadn't done it.
He had told himself he would wait for their first anniversary.
But there had never been a first anniversary, and today, he congratulated himself for not having given the ring to Feyre. Because today, he was giving it to his soulmate, to his Lady of Spring, to the one who deserved it.
He had kept the ring for a special person. And he had found her. The piece of jewelry had remained locked in a box for nearly two hundred and fifty years, a secret of gold and stone waiting for its moment in the shadows of the manor. For centuries, no female had seemed capable of bearing the weight of this lineage, nor the delicacy of this symbol.
Today, the box was open.
The afternoon sun brigthened the white stone terrace, making the colors of the climbing roses that coiled around the columns vibrate. Before him stood Pauly. She was the embodiement of Spring and grace. That was why he had chosen her, for her wise counsel, her insightful words, for the political alliance that marrying her had represented. Her brown hair fell in silky curls over her shoulders, held back by fine pins. But it was her eyes that captivated Tamlin: a clear gray, a gaze both calm and filled with sharp intelligence.
Pauly did not ask to be saved, nor to be hidden. She stood straight, her silhouette elegant in her ssilk dress, belonging to this landscape as much as the roots of the century-old trees surrounding them.
Tamlin took Pauly’s hand. Her skin was soft, but her grip was firm, assured. He slipped the ring onto her finger, and the sight was an immediate certainty. The metal seemed to light up upon contact with Pauly, as if it finally recognized the warmth of a true Lady of Spring. The emerald flattered the gray of her eyes.
Seeing the ring shine on his wife’s finger, Tamlin felt a peace he thought lost forever. It was like a part of his soul he was entrusting to the one who truly deserved it.
He congratulated himself, in silence, for the restraint he had shown in the past. Each year of solitude, each decade of waiting found its meaning in this morning: Pauly, bathed in light, wearing his mother’s heritage with absolute grace.
The emerald sparkled on Pauly’s finger, catching every ray of sun to transform it into a flash of life. Tamlin did not let go of her hand, his fingers warm against his wife’s cool skin. For the first time in his long existence, the High Lord no longer felt the need to command or control: he was content to admire the evidence of this bond that had just anchored itself in his soul.
Tamlin believed that the marriage to Pauly, all those months ago, was the final act of his redemption after the war, an alliance of reason and respect between two nobles of the Spring Court. But he had to face the facts: she was more than his wife. She was his breath. His mate.
"I thought I had given you everything on our wedding day," Tamlin muttered, his voice nothing more than a whisper. "But this jewel… it was waiting for me to understand that you are much more than a companion of duty. You are the one my blood has claimed for two centuries."
Pauly remained silent for a moment, her gray eyes observing the ring with infinite tenderness. She did not seem surprised by the revelation of the bond; as if she had always known and was simply waiting for him to open his eyes.
She then lifted her gaze toward him, a mysterious and radiant smile stretching her lips. She took Tamlin’s hand and guided it gently toward the still-invisible curve of her belly.
"It is a magnificent gift, Tamlin," she began softly. "And it arrives at the moment when Spring decides to truly bloom again."
She pressed the High Lord’s palm against her. The shock of the announcement made Tamlin stagger. For a heartbeat, time stopped.
There was no more room for the mistakes of the past. In Pauly’s gray eyers, Tamlin finally saw his future. He knelt before her, like a man before his destiny, pressing his forehead against her belly while the emerald on his wife’s finger cast soft reflection of silver upon his golden hair.
Spring had finally found its true Lady, and she carried within her the prince or princess who would never have to know the winters of the past.