In the 150 years since the end of the second war, Tamlin had clawed and fought his way out of his depression and had worked on rebuilding his court and regaining the trust of his people. It had not been an easy feat, and he had had to rely on the help and guidance from his fellow High Lords (and three High Ladies--Day, Winter, and of course....Night), but he felt he was back in a good place. He was not *friends* with any of his fellow rulers, but they could all have meetings together and not end up squabbling. He, Feyre, and Rhysand could even have a civilized conversation.
In those 100 years, a blessed occurrence had happened, too. He had found his mate—that beautiful human girl from Hybern's war camp that Feyre rescued—Briar. With the blessing of the other leaders, he had been allowed to turn Brair into a Fae, and they had lived happily. She had brought laughter and light back into his life.
Until she hadn't.
She had given him a beautiful baby girl, a tiny Princess that he loved endlessly, but Briar had gotten sick after giving birth to Rose. She had not recovered, and she had passed. She hadn't even lived 100 years as a Fae.
He did not allow himself to wallow in depression. Nobody had allowed him that opportunity, and he had Rose to look after.
But Rose was growing up, becoming a woman. And while she had met other members of the other courts before. Today would be her first time officially meeting everyone in one room together, as it was his turn to host a High Lord meeting. And while old instincts screamed at him to lock his daughter away...he couldn't, wouldn't do that.
"Are you ready, my little petal? The others will be here soon."