A Court of Wings and Ruin

by Sarah J. Maas

  My friends had risen to their feet, now in rank behind me, Nesta at my left. Rhys stepped up to my right, but did not touch me. Let me stand on my own, stare them all down.

  I said quietly, but not weakly, “I will use these powers—my powers—to smash Hybern to bits. I will burn them, and drown them, and freeze them. I will use these powers to heal the injured. To shatter through Hybern’s wards. I have done so already, and I will do so again. And if you think that my possession of a kernel of your magic is your biggest problem, then your priorities are severely out of order.”

  Pride flickered down the bond. The High Lords and their retinues said nothing.

  But Viviane nodded, chin high, and rose. “I will fight with you.”

  Cresseida stood a heartbeat later. “As will I.”

  Both of them looked to the males in their court.

  Tarquin and Kallias rose.

  Then Helion, smirking at me and Rhys.

  And finally Thesan—Thesan and Tamlin, who did not so much as breathe in my direction, had barely moved or spoken these past few minutes. It was the least of my concerns, so long as they all were standing.

  Six out of seven. Rhys chuckled down the bond. Not bad, Cursebreaker. Not bad at all.

  CHAPTER

  47

  Our alliance did not begin well.

  Even though we talked for a good two hours afterward … the bickering, the back-and-forth, continued. With Tamlin there, none would declare what numbers they had, what weapons, what weaknesses.

  As the afternoon slipped into evening, Thesan pushed back his chair. “You are all welcome to stay the night and resume this discussion in the morning—unless you wish to return to your own homes for the evening.”

  We’re staying, Rhysand said. I need to talk to some of the others alone.

  Indeed, the others seemed to have similar thoughts, for all decided to stay.

  Even Tamlin.

  We were shown toward the suites appointed for us—the sunstone turning a deep gold in the late-afternoon sun. Tamlin was escorted away first, by Thesan himself and a trembling attendant. He had wisely chosen not to attack Rhys or me during the debating, though his refusal to even acknowledge us did not go unnoticed. And as he left, back stiff and steps clipped, he did not say a word. Good.

  Then Tarquin was led out, then Helion. Until only Kallias’s party and our own waited.

  Rhys rose from his seat and dragged a hand through his hair. “That went well. It would seem none of us won our bet about who’d fight first.”

  Azriel stared at the floor, stone-faced. “Sorry.” The word was emotionless—distant.

  He had not spoken, had barely moved, since his savage attack. It had taken Mor thirty minutes after it to stop shaking.

  “He had it coming,” Viviane said. “Eris is a piece of shit.”

  Kallias turned to his mate with high brows.

  “What?” She put a hand on her chest. “He is.”

  “Be that as it may,” Kallias said with cool humor, “the question remains about whether Beron will fight with us.”

  “If all the others are allying,” Mor said hoarsely, her first words in hours, “Beron will join. He’s too smart to risk siding with Hybern and losing. And I’m sure if things go badly, he’ll easily switch over.”

  Rhys nodded, but faced Kallias. “How many troops do you have?”

  “Not enough. Amarantha did her job well.” Again, that ripple of guilt that pulsed down the bond. “We’ve got the army that Viv commanded and hid, but not much else. You?”

  Rhys didn’t reveal a whisper of the tension that tightened in me, as if it were my own. “We have sizable forces. Mostly Illyrian legions. And a few thousand Darkbringers. But we’ll need every soldier who can march.”

  Viviane walked to where Mor remained seated, still pale, and braced her hands on my friend’s shoulders. “I always knew we’d fight alongside each other one day.”

  Mor dragged her brown eyes up. But she glanced toward Kallias, who seemed to be trying his best not to appear worried. Mor gave the High Lord a look as if to say I’ll take care of her before she smiled at Viviane. “It’s almost enough to make me feel bad for Hybern.”

  “Almost.” Viviane grinned wickedly. “But not quite.”

  We were led to a suite built around a lavish sitting area and private dining room. All of it carved from that sunstone, bedecked in jewel-toned fabrics, broad cushions clumped along the thick carpets, and overlooked by ornate golden cages filled with birds of all shapes and sizes. I’d spied peacocks parading about the countless courtyards and gardens as we’d walked through Thesan’s home, some preening in the shade beneath potted fig trees.

  “How did Thesan keep Amarantha from trashing this place?” I asked Rhys as we surveyed the sitting room that opened to the hazy sprawl of countryside far, far below.

  “It’s his private residence.” Rhys dismissed his wings and slumped onto a pile of emerald cushions near the darkened fireplace. “He likely shielded it the same way Kallias and I did.”

  A decision that would weigh heavily on them for many centuries, I had no doubt.

  But I looked to Azriel, currently leaning against the wall beside the floor-to-ceiling window, shadows fluttering around him. Even the birds in their cages nearby remained silent.

  I said down the bond, Is he all right?

  Rhys tucked his hands behind his head, though his mouth tightened. Likely not, but if we try to talk to him about it, it’ll only make it worse.

  Mor was indeed sprawled on a couch—one wary eye on Azriel. Cassian sat beside her, holding her feet in his lap. He’d taken the spot closer to Azriel—right between them. As if he’d leap into their path if need be.

  You handled it beautifully, Rhys added. All of it.

  Despite my explosion?

  Because of your explosion.

  I met his stare, sensing the emotions swirling beneath as I claimed a seat in an overstuffed chair near my mate’s pillow-mound. I knew that you were powerful. But I didn’t realize that you had such an advantage on the others.

  Rhys’s eyes shuttered, even as he gave me a half smile. I’m not sure even Beron knew until today. Suspected, maybe, but … He’ll now be wishing he’d found a way to kill me in the cradle.

  A shiver skittered down my spine. He knows about Elain being Lucien’s mate. He makes a move to harm or take her, and he’s dead.

  Uncompromising will swept over the stars in his eyes. I’ll kill him myself if he does. Or hold him long enough for you to do the job. I think I’d enjoy watching you.

  I’ll keep it in mind for your next birthday. I drummed my fingers on the polished arm of the chair, the wood as smooth as glass. Do you really believe Tamlin’s claim that he’s been working for our side?

  Yes. A beat of silence down the bond. And perhaps we did him a disservice by not even considering the possibility. Perhaps even I started to think him some warrior brute.

  I felt tired—in my bones, my breath. Does it change anything, though?

  In some ways, yes. In others … Rhys surveyed me. No. No, it does not.

  I blinked, realizing I’d been lost in the bond, but found Azriel still by the window, Cassian now rubbing Mor’s feet. Nesta had retired to her own room without a word—and remained there. I wondered if Beron’s leaving despite her words … Perhaps it had thrown her.

  I got to my feet, straightening the folds of my shimmering gown. I should check on Nesta. Talk to her.

  Rhys nestled deeper into his spread of pillows, tucking his hands behind his head. She did well today.

  Pride fluttered at the praise as I crossed the room. But I got as far as the foyer archway when a knock thudded on the door that opened into the sunny hallway. I halted, the sheer panels of my dress swaying, sparkling like pale blue fire in the golden light.

  “Don’t open it,” Mor warned from her spot on the couch. “Even with the shield, don’t open it.”

  Rhys uncoiled to his feet. “Wise,” he said, prowli
ng past me to the front door, “but unnecessary.” He opened the door, revealing Helion—alone.

  Helion braced a hand on the door frame and grinned. “How’d you convince Thesan to give you the better view?”

  “He finds my males to be prettier than yours, I think.”

  “I think it’s a wing fetish.”

  Rhys laughed and opened the door wider, beckoning him in. “You’ve really mastered the swaggering prick performance, by the way. Expertly done.”

  Helion’s robe swayed with his graceful steps, brushing his powerful thighs. He spied me standing by the round table in the center of the foyer and bowed. Deeply.

  “Apologies for the bastard act,” he said to me. “Old habits and all.”

  Here it was—the amusement and joy in his amber eyes. The lightness that led to my own glow when lost to pure bliss. Helion frowned at Rhys. “You were on unnaturally nice behavior today. I was betting Beron would be dead by the end of it—you can’t imagine my shock that he walked out alive.”

  “My mate suggested it would be in our favor to appear as we truly are.”

  “Well, now I look as bad as Beron.” He strode straight past me with a wink, stalking into the sitting room. He grinned at Azriel. “You handing Eris’s ass to him will be my new fantasy at night, by the way.”

  Azriel didn’t so much as bother to look over his shoulder at the High Lord. But Cassian snorted. “I was wondering when the come-ons would begin.”

  Helion threw himself onto the couch across from Cassian and Mor. He’d ditched that radiant crown somewhere, but kept that gold armband of the upright serpent. “It’s been what—four centuries now, and you three still haven’t accepted my offer.”

  Mor lolled her head to the side. “I don’t like to share, unfortunately.”

  “You never know until you try,” Helion purred.

  The three of them in bed … with him? I must have been blinking like a fool because Rhys said to me, Helion favors both males and females. Usually together in his bed. And has been hounding after that trio for centuries.

  I considered—Helion’s beauty and the others … Why the hell haven’t they said yes?

  Rhys barked a laugh that had all of them looking at him with raised brows.

  My mate just came up behind me and slid his arms around my waist, pressing a kiss to my neck. Would you like someone to join us in bed, Feyre darling?

  My skin stretched tight over my bones at the tone, the suggestion. You’re incorrigible.

  I think you’d like two males worshipping you.

  My toes curled.

  Mor cleared her throat. “Whatever you’re saying mind to mind, either share it or go to another room so we don’t have to sit here, stewing in your scents.”

  I stuck out my tongue. Rhys laughed again, kissing my neck once more before saying, “Apologies for offending your delicate sensibilities, cousin.”

  I pushed out of his embrace, out of the touch that still made me dizzy enough that basic thought became difficult, and claimed a chair adjacent to Mor and Cassian’s couch.

  Cassian said to Helion, “Are your forces ready?”

  Helion’s amusement faded—reshaping into that hard, calculating exterior. “Yes. They’ll rendezvous with yours in the Myrmidons.”

  The mountain range we shared at our border. He’d refused to divulge such information earlier.

  “Good,” Cassian said, rubbing at the arch of Mor’s foot. “We’ll push south from there.”

  “With the final encampment being where?” Mor asked, withdrawing her foot from Cassian’s hands and tucking both feet beneath her. Helion traced the curve of her bare leg, his amber eyes a bit glazed as he met hers.

  Mor didn’t balk from the heated look. And a keen sort of awareness seemed to overtake her—like every nerve in her body shook awake. I didn’t dare look toward Azriel.

  There must have been multiple shields around the room, around every crack and opening where spying eyes and ears might be waiting, because Cassian said, “We join Thesan’s forces, then eventually make camp along Kallias’s southwestern border—near the Summer Court.”

  Helion drew his gaze from Mor long enough to ask Rhys, “You and pretty Tarquin had a moment today. Do you truly think he’ll join us?”

  “If you mean in bed, definitely not,” Rhys said with a wry smile as he again sprawled on his spread of cushions. “But if you mean in this war … Yes. I believe he means to fight. Beron, on the other hand …”

  “Hybern is focusing on the South,” Helion said. “And regardless of what you think Tamlin’s up to, the Spring Court is now mostly occupied. Beron has to realize his court will be a battleground if he doesn’t join us to push southward—especially if Summer has joined us.”

  Meaning the Spring Court and human lands would see the brunt of the battles.

  “Will Beron choose to listen to reason, though?” Mor mused.

  Helion tapped a finger against the carved arm of his couch. “He played games in the War and it cost him—dearly. His people still remember those choices—those losses. His own damn wife remembers.”

  Helion had looked at the Lady of Autumn repeatedly during the meeting. I asked, carefully and casually, “What do you mean?”

  Mor shook her head—not at what I’d said, but at whatever had occurred.

  Helion fixed his full attention upon me. It was an effort not to flinch at the weight of that focus, the simmering intensity. The muscled body was only a mask—to hide that cunning mind beneath. I wondered if Rhys had picked that up from him.

  Helion folded an ankle over a knee. “The Lady of the Autumn Court’s two older sisters were indeed …” He searched for a word. “Butchered. Tormented, and then butchered, during the War.”

  I shut out Nesta’s screaming, shut out Elain’s sobbing as she was hauled toward that Cauldron.

  Lucien’s aunts. Dead before he’d ever existed. Had his mother ever told him this story?

  Rhys explained to me, “Hybern’s forces had swarmed our lands by that point.”

  Helion’s jaw clenched. “The Lady of the Autumn Court was sent to stay with her sisters, her younger children packed off to other relatives. To spread out the bloodline.” He dragged a hand through his sable hair. “Hybern attacked their estate. Her sisters bought her time to run. Not because she was married to Beron, but because they loved each other. Fiercely. She tried to stay, but they convinced her to go. So she did—she ran and ran, but Hybern’s beasts were still faster. Stronger. They cornered her at a ravine, where she became trapped atop a ledge, the beasts snapping at her feet.”

  He didn’t speak for a long moment.

  Too many details. He knew so many details.

  I said quietly, “You saved her. You found her, didn’t you?”

  A coronet of light seemed to flicker over that thick black hair. “I did.”

  There was enough weight, anger, and something else in those two words that I studied the High Lord of Day.

  “What happened?”

  Helion didn’t break my stare. “I tore the beasts apart with my bare hands.”

  A chill slid down my spine. “Why?”

  He could have ended it a thousand other ways. Easier ways. Cleaner ways.

  Rhys’s bloody hands after the Ravens’ attack flashed through my mind.

  Helion didn’t so much as shift in his chair. “She was still young—though she’d been married to that delightful male for nearly two decades. Married too young, the marriage arranged when she was twenty.”

  The words were clipped. And twenty—so young. Nearly as young as Mor had been when her own family tried to marry her to Eris.

  “So?” A dangerous, taunting question.

  And how his eyes burned at that, flaring bright as suns.

  But it was Mor who said coolly, “I heard a rumor once, Helion, that she waited before agreeing to that marriage. For a certain someone who had met her by chance at an equinox ball the year before.”

  I tried not to blink,
not to let any of my rising interest surface.

  The fire banked to embers and Helion threw a half smile in Mor’s direction. “Interesting. I heard her family wanted internal ties to power, and that they didn’t give her a choice before they sold her to Beron.”

  Sold her. Mor’s nostrils flared. Cassian ran a hand down the back of her hair. Azriel didn’t so much as turn from his vigil at the window, though I could have sworn his wings tucked in a bit tighter.

  “Too bad they’re just rumors,” Rhys cut in smoothly, “and can’t be confirmed by anyone.”

  Helion merely toyed with the gold cuff on his sculpted arm, twisting the serpent to the center of his bicep. But I furrowed my brows. “Does Beron know you saved his wife in the War?” He hadn’t mentioned anything during the meeting.

  Helion let out a dark laugh. “Cauldron, no.” There was enough wry, knowing humor that I straightened.

  “You had—an affair after you rescued her?”

  The amusement only grew, and Helion pushed a finger against his lips in mock warning. “Careful, High Lady. Even the birds report to Thesan here.”

  I frowned at the birds in cages throughout the room, still silent in Azriel’s shadowy presence.

  I threw shields around them, Rhys said down the bond.

  “How long did the affair last?” I asked. That withdrawn female … I couldn’t imagine it.

  Helion snorted. “Is that a polite question for a High Lady to be asking?”

  But the way he spoke, that smile …

  I only waited, using silence to push him instead.

  Helion shrugged. “On and off for decades. Until Beron found out. They say the lady was all brightness and smiles before that. And after Beron was through with her … You saw what she is.”

  “What did he do to her?”

  “The same things he does now.” Helion waved a hand. “Belittle her, leave bruises where no one but him will see them.”

  I clenched my teeth. “If you were her lover, why didn’t you stop it?”