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My friends did not hide their rage, their grief at the details he’d kept even from them.
“Stories and words,” Tamlin said, lounging in his chair. “Is there any proof?”
“Proof—” Cassian snarled, half rising in his seat, wings starting to flare.
“No,” Rhys cut in as Mor blocked Cassian with an arm, forcing him to sit. Rhys added to Kallias, “But I swear it—upon my mate’s life.” His hand at last rested atop mine.
For the first time since I’d known him, Rhys’s skin was clammy.
I reached down the bond, even as Rhys held Kallias’s stare. I did not have any words. Only myself—only my soul, as I curled up against his towering shields of black adamant.
He’d known what coming here, presented just as we were, would cost him. What he might have to reveal beyond the wings he loved so dearly.
Tamlin rolled his eyes. It took every scrap of restraint to keep me from lunging for him—from ripping out those eyes.
But whatever Kallias read in Rhys’s face, his words … He pinned Tamlin with a hard stare as he asked again, “Why are you here, Tamlin?”
A muscle flickered in Tamlin’s jaw. “I am here to help you fight against Hybern.”
“Bullshit,” Cassian muttered.
Tamlin glowered at him. Cassian, folding his wings in neatly as he leaned back in his chair once more, just offered a crooked grin in return.
“You will forgive us,” Thesan interrupted gracefully, “if we are doubtful. And hesitant to share any plans.”
“Even when I have information on Hybern’s movements?”
Silence. Tarquin, across the pool, watched and listened—either because he was the youngest of them, or perhaps he knew some advantage lay in letting us battle it out ourselves.
Tamlin smiled at me. “Why do you think I invited them to the house? Into my lands?” He let out a low snarl, and I felt Rhys tensing as Tamlin said to me, “I once told you I would fight against tyranny, against that sort of evil. Did you think you were enough to turn me from that?” His teeth shone white as bone. “It was so easy for you to call me a monster, despite all I did for you, for your family.” A sneer toward Nesta, who was frowning with distaste. “Yet you witnessed all that he did Under the Mountain, and still spread your legs for him. Fitting, I suppose. He whored for Amarantha for decades. Why shouldn’t you be his whore in return?”
“Watch your mouth,” Mor snapped. I was having difficulty swallowing—breathing.
Tamlin ignored her wholly and waved a hand toward Rhysand’s wings. “I sometimes forget—what you are. Have the masks come off now, or is this another ploy?”
“You’re beginning to become tedious, Tamlin,” Helion said, propping his head on a hand. “Take your lovers’ spat elsewhere and let the rest of us discuss this war.”
“You’d be all too happy for war, considering how well you made out in the last one.”
“No one says war can’t be lucrative,” Helion countered. Tamlin’s lip curled in a silent snarl that made me wonder if he’d gone to Helion to break my bargain with Rhys—if Helion had refused.
“Enough,” Kallias said. “We have our opinions on how the conflict with Hybern should be dealt with.” Those glacial eyes hardened as he again took in Tamlin. “Are you here as an ally of Hybern or Prythian?”
The mocking, hateful gleam faded into granite resolve. “I stand against Hybern.”
“Prove it,” Helion goaded.
Tamlin lifted his hand, and a stack of papers appeared on the little table beside his chair. “Charts of armies, ammunition, caches of faebane … Everything carefully gleaned these months.”
All of this directed at me, as I refused to so much as lower my chin. My back ached from keeping it so straight, a twinge of pain flanking either side of my spine.
“Noble as it sounds,” Helion went on, “who is to say that information is correct—or that you aren’t Hybern’s agent, trying to mislead us?”
“Who is to say that Rhysand and his cronies are not agents of Hybern, all of this a ruse to get you to yield without realizing it?”
Nesta murmured, “You can’t be serious.” Mor gave my sister a look as if to say that he certainly was.
“If we need to ally against Hybern,” Thesan said, “you are doing a good job of convincing us not to band together, Tamlin.”
“I am simply warning you that they might present the guise of honesty and friendship, but the fact remains that he warmed Amarantha’s bed for fifty years, and only worked against her when it seemed the tide was turning. I’m warning you that while he claims his own city was attacked by Hybern, they made off remarkably well—as if they’d been anticipating it. Don’t think he wouldn’t sacrifice a few buildings and lesser faeries to lure you into an alliance, into thinking you had a common enemy. Why is it that only the Night Court got word about the attack on Adriata—and were the only ones to arrive in time to play savior?”
“They received word,” Varian cut in coolly, “because I warned them of it.”
Tarquin whipped his head to his cousin, brows high with surprise.
“Perhaps you’re working with them, too,” Tamlin said to the Prince of Adriata. “You’re next in line, after all.”
“You’re insane,” I breathed to Tamlin as Varian bared his teeth. “Do you hear what you’re saying?” I pointed toward Nesta. “Hybern turned my sisters into Fae—after your bitch of a priestess sold them out!”
“Perhaps Ianthe’s mind was already in Rhysand’s thrall. And what a tragedy to remain young and beautiful. You’re a good actress—I’m sure the trait runs in the family.”
Nesta let out a low laugh. “If you want someone to blame for all of this,” she said to Tamlin, “perhaps you should first look in the mirror.”
Tamlin snarled at her.
Cassian snarled right back, “Watch it.”
Tamlin looked between my sister and Cassian—his gaze lingering on Cassian’s wings, tucked in behind him. Snorted. “Seems like other preferences run in the Archeron family, too.”
My power began to rumble—a behemoth rising up, yawning awake.
“What do you want?” I hissed. “An apology? For me to crawl back into your bed and play nice, little wife?”