It’s all right, Rhys soothed. This place cannot hold you.
I nodded, though he hadn’t spoken, trying to swallow the feeling of the walls and ceiling pushing on me.
Nesta was watching me carefully. I admitted to her, “Sometimes … I have problems with small spaces.”
Nesta studied me for a long moment. And then she said with equal quiet, though we could all hear, “I can’t get into a bathtub anymore. I have to use buckets.”
I hadn’t known—hadn’t even thought that bathing, submerging in water …
I knew better than to touch her hand. But I said, “When we get home, we’ll install something else for you.”
I could have sworn there was gratitude in her eyes—that she might have said something else when horses approached.
“Two dozen guards,” Azriel murmured to Rhys. A glance at Elain. “And Lord Graysen and his father, Lord Nolan.”
Elain went still as a doe as footsteps crunched outside. I caught Nesta’s eye, read the understanding there, and nodded.
Any attempt to hurt Elain … I did not care what I had promised my sister. I’d leave Nesta to shred him. Indeed, my eldest sister’s fingers had curled—as if invisible talons crowned them.
But the door banged open, and—
The panting young man was so … human-looking.
Handsome, brown-haired, blue-eyed, but … human. Solidly built beneath his light armor, tall—perhaps a mortal ideal of a knight who would swoop a beautiful maiden onto his horse and ride off into the sunset.
So at odds from the savage strength of the Illyrians, the cultivated lethalness of Mor and Amren. From my own clawing and shredding—and Nesta’s.
But a small sound came out of Elain as she beheld Graysen. As he gasped for breath, scanning her from head to toe. He staggered toward her a step—
A broad, scar-flecked hand gripped the back of Graysen’s armor, hauling him to a stop.
The man who held the young lord fully entered the cramped room.
Tall and thin, hawk-nosed and gray-eyed … “What is the meaning of this.”
We all stared at him beneath lowered brows.
Elain was shaking. “Sir—Lord Nolan …” Words failed her as she again looked at her betrothed, who had not taken his earnest blue eyes from her, not for a heartbeat.
“The wall has come down,” Nesta said, stepping to Elain’s side.
Graysen looked to Nesta at that. Shock flared at what he beheld: the ears, the beauty, the … otherworldly power that thrummed around her. “How,” he said, his voice low and raspy.
“I was kidnapped,” Nesta answered coolly, not one flicker of fear in her eyes. “I was taken by the army invading these lands and turned against my will.”
“How,” Nolan echoed.
“There is a Cauldron—a weapon. It grants its owner power to … do such things. I was a test.” Nesta then launched into a sharp, short explanation of the queens, of Hybern, of why the wall had fallen.
When she finished Lord Nolan only demanded, “And who are your companions?”
It was a gamble—we knew it was. To say who we were, when we knew full well the terror of any Fae, let alone High Lords …
But I stepped forward. “My name is Feyre Archeron. I am High Lady of the Night Court. This is Rhysand, my—husband.” I doubted mate would go over well as a term.
Rhys came to my side. Some of the guards shifted and murmured with terror. Some flinched at the hand Rhys lifted—to gesture behind him. “Our third in command, Morrigan. And our spymaster, Azriel.”
Lord Nolan, to his credit, did not blanch. Graysen did, but remained steady. “Elain,” Graysen breathed. “Elain—why are you with them?”
“Because she is our sister,” Nesta answered, her fingers still curled with those invisible talons. “And there is no safer place for her during this war than with us.”
Elain whispered, “Graysen—we’ve come to beg you …” A pleading glance at his father. “Both of you … Open your gates to any humans who can get here. To families. With the wall down … We—they believe … There is not enough time for an evacuation. The queens will not send aid from the continent. But here—they might stand a chance.”
Neither man responded, though Graysen now looked at Elain’s engagement ring. His blue eyes rippled with pain. “I would be inclined to believe you,” he said quietly, “if you were not lying to me with your every breath.”
Elain blinked. “I—I am not, I—”
“Did you think,” Lord Nolan said, and Nesta and I closed ranks around Elain as he took a step toward us, “that you could come to my house and deceive me with your faerie magic?”
Rhys said, “We don’t care what you believe. We only come to ask you to help those who cannot defend themselves.”
“At what gain? What risk of your own?”
“You have an arsenal of ash weapons,” I said. “I’d think the risk to us is apparent.”
“And to your sister as well,” Nolan spat toward Elain. “Don’t forget to include her.”
“Any weapon can hurt a mortal,” Mor said blandly.
“But she isn’t a mortal, is she?” Nolan sneered. “No, I have it on good authority that it was Elain Archeron who was turned Fae first. And who now has a High Lord’s son as a mate.”
“And who, exactly, told you this?” Rhys said with a lift of the brow, not showing one ounce of ire, of surprise.
Steps sounded.
But we all went for our weapons as Jurian strolled into the guardhouse and said, “I did.”
CHAPTER
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Jurian held up his tanned hands, new calluses dotting his palms and fingers. New—for the remade body he’d had to train to handle weapons these months.
“I came alone,” Jurian said. “You can stop snarling.”
Elain began shaking—either at the truth revealed, or the memories that pelted her, pelted Nesta, at the sight of him. Jurian inclined his head to my sisters. “Ladies.”
“They are no ladies,” Lord Nolan sneered.
“Father,” Graysen warned.
Nolan ignored him. “Upon his arrival, Jurian explained what had been done to you—both of you. What the queens on the continent desire.”
“And what is that?” Rhys asked, his voice a deceptive croon.
“Power. Youth,” Jurian said with a shrug. “The usual things.”
“Why are you here,” I demanded. Kill him—we should kill him now before he could hurt us any further, kill him for that bolt he’d put through Azriel’s chest and the threat he’d made to Miryam and Drakon, perhaps causing them to vanish and leave us to fight this war on our own—
“The queens are snakes,” Jurian said, leaning against the edge of a table shoved by the wall. “They deserve to be butchered for their treachery. It took no effort on my part when Hybern sent me to woo them to our cause. Only one of them was noble enough to play the game—to know we’d been dealt a shitty hand and to play it the best she could. But when she helped you, the others found out. And they gave her to the Attor.” Jurian’s eyes gleamed bright—not with madness, I realized.
But clarity.
And I had the sense of the world sliding out from beneath my feet as Jurian said, “He resurrected me to turn them to his cause, believing I had gone mad during the five hundred years Amarantha trapped me. So I was reborn, and found myself surrounded by my old enemies—faces I had once marked to kill. I found myself on the wrong side of a wall, with the human realm poised to shatter beneath it.”
Jurian looked right to Mor, whose mouth was a tight line. “You were my friend,” he said, voice straining. “We fought back-to-back during some battles. And yet you believed me at first sight—believed that I’d ever let them turn me.”
“You went mad with—with Clythia. It was madness. It destroyed you.”
“And I was glad to do it,” Jurian snarled. “I was glad to do it, if it bought us an edge in that war. I didn’t care what it did to me, what it broke in
me. If it meant we could be free. And I have had five hundred years to think about it. While being held prisoner by my enemy. Five hundred years, Mor.” The way he said her name, so familiar and knowing—
“You played the villain convincingly enough, Jurian,” Rhys purred.
Jurian snapped his face toward Rhys. “You should have looked. I expected you to look into my mind, to see the truth. Why didn’t you?”
Rhys was quiet for a long moment. Then he said softly, “Because I didn’t want to see her.”
See any trace of Amarantha.
“You mean to imply,” Mor pushed, “that you’ve been working to help us during this?”
“Where better to plot your enemy’s demise, to learn their weaknesses, than at their side?”
We were silent, Lord Graysen and his father watching—or the latter did. Graysen and Elain were just staring at each other.
“Why this obsession to find Miryam and Drakon?” Mor asked.
“It’s what the world expects of me. What Hybern expects. And if he grants my asking price to find them … Drakon has a legion capable of turning the tide in battle. It was why I allied with him during the War. I don’t doubt Drakon still has it trained and ready. Word will have reached him by now. Especially that I am looking for them.”
A warning. The only way Jurian could send one—by making himself the hunter.
I said to Jurian, “You don’t want to kill Miryam and Drakon.”
There was stark honesty in Jurian’s eyes as he shook his head once. “No,” he said roughly. “I want to beg their forgiveness.”
I looked to Mor. But tears lined her eyes, and she blinked them furiously away.
“Miryam and Drakon have vanished,” Rhys said. “Their people with them.”
“Then find them,” Jurian said. He jerked his chin to Azriel. “Send the shadowsinger, send whomever you trust, but find them.”
Silence.
“Look into my head,” Jurian said to Rhys. “Look, and see for yourself.”
“Why now,” Rhys said. “Why here.”
Jurian held his stare. “Because the wall came down, and now I can move freely—to warn the humans here. Because …” He loosed a long breath. “Because Tamlin ran right back to Hybern after your meeting ended this morning. Right to their camp in the Spring Court, where Hybern now plans to launch a land assault on Summer tomorrow.”
CHAPTER
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Jurian was not my enemy.
I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. Even as Rhys and I both looked.
I didn’t linger for long.
The pain and guilt and rage, what he had seen and endured …
But Jurian spoke true. Laid himself bare to us.
He knew the spot they planned to attack. Where and when and how many.
Azriel vanished without a glance at any of us—to warn Cassian and move the legion.
Jurian was saying to Mor, “They didn’t kill the sixth queen. Vassa. She saw through me—or thought she did—from the start. Warned them against this. Told them that if I was reborn, it was a bad sign, and to rally their armies to face the threat before it grew too large. But Vassa is too brash, too young. She didn’t play the game the way the golden one, Demetra, did. Didn’t see the lust in their eyes when I told them of the Cauldron’s powers. Didn’t know that from the moment I began to spin Hybern’s lies … they became her enemies. They couldn’t kill Vassa—the next in line to her throne is far more willful. So they found an old death-lord above the wall, with a penchant for enslaving young women. He cursed her, and stole her away … The entire world believes she’s been sick these past months.”
“We know,” Mor said, and none of us dared glance at Elain. “We learned about it.”
And even with the truth laid bare … none of us told him that Lucien had gone after her.
Elain seemed to remember, though. Who was hunting for that missing queen. And she said to Graysen, stone-faced and sorrowful through all of this, “I did not mean to deceive you.”
His father answered, “I find I have trouble believing that.”
Graysen swallowed. “Did you think you could come back here—live with me as this … lie?”
“No. Yes. I—I don’t know what I wanted—”
“And you are bound to some … Fae male. A High Lord’s son.”
A different High Lord’s heir, likely, I wanted to say.
“His name is Lucien.” I wasn’t certain if I’d ever heard his name from her lips.
“I don’t care what his name is.” The first sharp words from Graysen. “You are his mate. Do you even know what that means?”
“It means nothing,” Elain said, her voice breaking. “It means nothing. I don’t care who decided it or why they did—”
“You belong to him.”
“I belong to no one. But my heart belongs to you.”
Graysen’s face hardened. “I don’t want it.”
He would have been better off hitting her, that’s how deep the hurt in her eyes went. And seeing her face crumple …
I stepped close, pushing her behind me. “Here is what is going to happen. You are going to take in any people who can make it here. We will supply these walls with wards.”
“We don’t need them,” sneered Nolan.
“Shall I demonstrate for you,” I said, “how wrong you are? Or shall you take my word for it that I could reduce this wall to rubble with half a thought? And that is to say nothing of my friends. You will find, Lord Nolan, that you want our wards, and our help. All in exchange for taking in whatever humans need the safety.”
“I don’t want riffraff wandering through here.”
“So only the rich and chosen will walk through the gates?” Rhys asked, arching a brow. “I can’t imagine the aristocracy being content to work your land and fish in your lake or butcher your meat.”
“We have plenty of workers here to do that.”
It was happening again. Another fight with narrow-minded, hateful people …
But Jurian said to the lords, “I fought beside your ancestor. And he would be ashamed if you locked out those who needed it. You would spit on his grave to do so. I hold a position of trust with Hybern. One word from me, and I will make sure his legion takes a visit here. To you.”
“You’ll threaten to bring the very enemy you seek to protect us from?”
Jurian shrugged. “I can also convince Hybern to steer clear. He trusts me that much. You let in those people … I will do my best to keep his armies far away.”
He gave Rhys a look, daring him to doubt it.
We were still too stunned to even try to look neutral.
But then Nolan said, “I do not pretend to have a large army. Only a considerable unit of soldiers. If what you say is true …” A glance at Graysen. “We will take them. Whoever can make it.”
I wondered if the elder lord might be the one who could actually be reasoned with. Especially as Graysen said to Elain, “Take that ring off.”
Elain’s fingers curved into a fist. “No.”
Ugly. This was about to get ugly in the worst way—
“Take. It. Off.”
It was Nolan’s turn to murmur a warning to his son. Graysen ignored him. Elain did not move.
“Take it off! ” The roared words barked over the stones.
“That’s enough,” Rhys said, his voice lethally calm. “The lady keeps the ring, if she wants it. Though none of us will be particularly sad to see it go. Females tend to prefer gold or silver to iron.”
Graysen leveled a seething look at Rhysand. “Is this the start of it? You Fae males will come to take our women? Are your own not fuckable enough?”
“Watch your tongue, boy,” his father said. Elain turned white at the coarse language.
Graysen only said to her, “I am not marrying you. Our engagement is over. I will take whatever people occupy your lands. But not you. Never you.”
Tears began sliding down Elain’s face, their scent filling the r
oom with salt.
Nesta stepped forward. Then another step. And another.
Until she was in front of Graysen, faster than anyone could see.
Until Nesta smacked him hard enough that his head snapped to the side.
“You never deserved her,” Nesta snarled into the stunned silence as Graysen cupped his face and swore, bending over. Nesta only looked back at me. Rage, unfiltered and burning, roiled in her eyes. But her voice was stone-cold as she said to me, “I assume we’re done here.”
I gave her a wordless nod. And proud as any queen, Nesta took Elain’s arm and led her from the guardhouse. Mor trailed behind, guarding their backs as they entered the veritable field of weapons and snarling hounds waiting outside.
The two lords saw themselves out without so much as a good-bye.
Alone, Jurian said, “Tell the shadowsinger I’m sorry about the arrow to the chest.”
Rhys shook his head. “What’s the next move, then? I assume you’re doing more than warning humans to flee or hide.”
Jurian pushed off the table. “The next move, Rhysand, is me going back to that Hybern war-camp and throwing a fit that my search for Miryam and Drakon’s whereabouts wasn’t fruitful. My step after that is to take another trip to the continent and sow the seeds of discord amongst the queens’ courts. To let some vital things slip about their agenda. Who they really support. What they really want. It will keep them busy—too worried about their own internal conflict to consider sailing here. And once that’s done … who knows? Perhaps I’ll join you on the battlefield.”
Rhys rubbed his brows with a thumb and forefinger, the locks of his hair sliding forward as he dipped his head. “I wouldn’t believe a word, except I looked into that head of yours.”
Jurian tapped a hand on the door frame. “Tell Cassian to hammer the left flank hard tomorrow. Hybern is putting his untrained nobles there for some seasoning—they’re spoiled and untested. Buckle the ranks there, and it’ll spook the grunts. Hit them with everything you’ve got, and fast—don’t give them time to rally or find their courage.” Jurian gave me a grim smile. “I never congratulated you for slaughtering Dagdan and Brannagh. Good riddance.”
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