Only my friends didn’t seem surprised.
Tamlin’s eyes were green flame, golden light flickering around him as his magic sought to wrest free from Rhysand’s control. As he tried and tried to speak.
“If you want proof that we are not scheming with Hybern,” Rhysand said blandly to them all, “consider the fact that it would be far less time-consuming to slice into your minds and make you do my bidding.”
Only Beron was stupid enough to scoff. Eris was just angling his body in his chair—blocking the path to his mother.
“Yet here I am,” Rhysand went on, not deigning to give Beron a glance of acknowledgment. “Here we all are.”
Absolute silence.
Then Tarquin, silent and watchful, cleared his throat.
I waited for it—for the blow that would surely doom us. We were thieves who had deceived him, we had come to his house in peace and stolen from him, had ripped into their minds to ensure our success.
But Tarquin said to me, to Rhysand, “Despite Varian’s unsanctioned warning …” A glare at his cousin, who didn’t so much as look sorry about it, “You were the only ones who came to help. The only ones. And yet you asked for nothing in return. Why?”
Rhys’s voice was a bit hoarse as he asked, “Isn’t that what friends do?”
A subtle, quiet offer.
Tarquin took him in. Then me. And the others. “I rescind the blood rubies. Let there be no debts between us.”
“Don’t expect Amren to return hers,” Cassian muttered. “She’s grown attached to it.”
I could have sworn a smile tugged on Varian’s mouth.
But Rhys faced Tamlin, whose own mouth remained shut. His eyes still livid. And my mate said to him, “I believe you. That you will fight for Prythian.”
Kallias didn’t appear so convinced. Neither did Helion.
Rhys loosened his grasp on Tamlin’s voice. I only knew because a low snarl slipped from him. But Tamlin made no move to attack, to even speak.
“War is upon us,” Rhysand declared. “I have no interest in wasting energy arguing amongst ourselves.”
The better man—male. His restraint, his choice of words … All of it a careful portrayal of reason and power. But Rhysand … I knew he meant what he said. Even if Tamlin had been a part of killing his own family, even if he had played his part in Hybern … For our home, for Prythian, he’d set it aside. A sacrifice that would harm no one but his own soul.
But Beron said, “You may be inclined to believe him, Rhysand, but as someone who shares a border with his court, I am not so easily swayed.” A wry look. “Perhaps my errant son can clarify. Pray, where is he?”
Even Tamlin looked toward us—toward me.
“Helping to guard our city,” was all I said. Not a lie, not entirely.
Eris snorted and surveyed Nesta, who stared back at him with steel in her face. “Pity you didn’t bring the other sister. I hear our little brother’s mate is quite the beauty.”
If they knew Elain was Lucien’s mate … It was now another avenue, I realized with no small amount of horror. Another way to strike at the youngest brother they hated so fiercely, so unreasonably. Eris’s bargain with us had not included protection of Lucien. My mouth went dry.
But Mor replied smoothly, “You still certainly like to hear yourself talk, Eris. Good to know some things don’t change over the centuries.”
Eris’s mouth curled into a smile at the words, the careful game of pretending that they had not seen each other in years. “Good to know that after five hundred years, you still dress like a slut.”
One moment, Azriel was seated.
The next, he’d blasted through Eris’s shield with a flare of blue light and tackled him backward, wood shattering beneath them.
“Shit,” Cassian spat, and was instantly there—
And met a wall of blue.
Azriel had sealed them in, and as his scarred hands wrapped around Eris’s throat, Rhys said, “Enough.”
Azriel squeezed, Eris thrashing beneath him. No physical brawling—there had been a rule against that, but Azriel, with whatever power those shadows gave him …
“Enough, Azriel,” Rhys ordered. Perhaps those shadows that now slid and eddied around the shadowsinger hid him from the wrath of the binding magic. The others made no move to interfere, as if wondering the same.
Azriel dug his knee—and all his weight—into Eris’s gut. He was silent, utterly silent as he ripped the air from Eris’s body. Beron’s flames struck the blue shield, over and over, but the fire skittered off and fizzled out on the water. Any that escaped were torn to shreds by shadows.
“Call off your overgrown bat,” Beron ordered Rhys.
Rhys was enjoying it, bargain with Eris or no—could have ended it seconds ago. He gave me a glance as if to say so. And an invitation.
I rose on surprisingly steady knees.
Felt all of them tense, Tamlin’s gaze like a brand as I walked toward the shadowsinger, my sparkling gown hissing along the floor behind me. As I put a tattooed hand on the hard, near-invisible curve of the shield and said, “Come, Azriel.”
Azriel stopped.
Eris gasped for air as those scarred hands loosened. As Azriel turned his face toward me—
The frozen rage there rooted me to the spot.
But beneath it, I could almost see the images that haunted him: the hand Mor had yanked away, her weeping, distraught face as she had screamed at Rhys.
And now, behind us, Mor was shaking in her chair. Pale and shaking.
I only offered my hand to Azriel. “Come sit beside me.”
Nesta had already moved her seat, and an extra chair appeared beside mine.
I didn’t let my hand tremble as I kept it extended. And waited.
Azriel’s eyes slid to Eris, the High Lord’s son panting beneath him. And the shadowsinger leaned down to whisper something in his ear that made Eris blanch further.
But the shield dropped. The shadows lightened into sunshine.
Beron struck—only for his fire to bounce off a hard barrier of my own. I lifted my gaze to the High Lord of Autumn. “That’s twice now we’ve handed you your asses. I’d think you’d be sick of the humiliation.”
Helion laughed. But my attention returned to Azriel, who took my still-offered hand and rose. The scars were rough against my fingers, but his skin was like ice. Pure ice.
Mor opened her mouth to say something to Azriel, but Cassian put a hand on her bare knee and shook his head. I led the shadowsinger to the empty chair beside mine—then walked to the table myself to pour him a glass of wine.
No one spoke until I offered it to him and sat down.
“They are my family,” I said at the raised brows I received for my waiting on him. Tamlin just shook his head in disgust and finally slid that claw back into his hand. But I met Eris’s fuming gaze, my voice as cold as Azriel’s face as I said, “I don’t care if we are allies in this war. If you insult my friend again, I won’t stop him the next time.”
Only Eris knew how far that alliance went—information that could damn this meeting if either side revealed it. Information that could get him wiped off the earth by his father.
Mor was staring and staring at Azriel, who refused to look at her, who refused to do anything but give Eris that death-gaze.
Eris, wisely, averted his eyes. And said, “Apologies, Morrigan.”
His father actually gawked at the words. But something like approval shone on the Lady of Autumn’s face as her eldest son settled himself once more.
Thesan rubbed his temples. “This does not bode well.”
But Helion smirked at his retinue, crossing an ankle over a knee and flashing those powerful, sleek thighs. “Looks like you owe me ten gold marks.”
It seemed like we weren’t the only ones who’d placed bets. Even if not one of Helion’s entourage answered his mocking smile with one of their own.
Helion waved a hand, and the stacks of papers Tamlin had compiled drifted over to him on a phantom wind. With a snap of his fingers—scar-flecked from swordplay—other stacks appeared before every chair in the room. Including my own. “Replicas,” he said without looking up as he leafed through the documents.