“He knows about us. Our histories.”
And that scared Rhys to death.
“He knew the library … He picked it for what it meant to me, not just to take Nesta.”
“So we learn where to hit him, and strike hard. Better yet, we kill him before he can do any further harm.”
Rhys shook his head slightly, removing his face from my hands. “If it was only the king to contend with … But with the Cauldron in his arsenal …”
And it was the way his shoulders began to curve in, the way his chin dipped ever so slightly … I grabbed his hand again. “We need allies,” I said, my eyes burning. “We can’t face the brunt of this war alone.”
“I know.” The words were heavy—weary.
“Move the meeting with the High Lords sooner. Three days from now.”
“I will.” I’d never heard that tone—that quiet.
And it was precisely because of it that I said, “I love you.”
His head lifted, eyes churning. “There was a time when I dreamed of hearing that,” he murmured. “When I never thought I’d hear it from you.” He gestured to the tent—to Adriata beyond it. “Our trip here was the first time I let myself … hope.”
To the stars who listen—and the dreams that are answered.
And yet today, with Tarquin …
“The world should know,” I said. “The world should know how good you are, Rhysand—how wonderful all of you are.”
“I can’t tell if I should be worried that you’re saying such nice things about me. Maybe the king’s taunting did get to you.”
I pinched his arm, and he let out a low laugh before raising my face to study my eyes. He angled his head. “Should I be worried?”
I put a hand to his cheek once more, the silken skin now warm. “You are selfless, and brave, and kind. You are more than I ever dreamed for myself, more than I …” The words choked off, and I swallowed, taking a deep breath. I wasn’t sure if he needed to hear it after what the king had said, but I needed to say it. Starlight now danced in his eyes. But I went on, “At this meeting with the other High Lords, what role will you play?”
“The usual one.”
I nodded, having anticipated his answer. “And the others will play their usual roles, too.”
“And?”
I slid my hand from his face and put it over his heart. “I think the time has come for us to remove the masks. To stop playing the part.”
He waited, hearing me out.
“Velaris is secret no longer. The king knows too much about us—who we are. What we are. And if we’re to ally with the other High Lords … I think they need the truth. They will need the truth in order to trust us. The truth about who you really are—who Mor and Cassian and Azriel really are. Look at how poorly things went with Tarquin today. We can’t—we can’t let it continue like this. So no more masks, no more roles to play. We go as ourselves. As a family.”
If anything, the king’s taunting had told me that. Games were over. There would be no more disguises, no more lies. Perhaps he thought it’d drive us toward continuing to do such things. But to stand a chance … perhaps victory lay in the other direction. In honesty. With us standing together—as precisely who we were.
I waited for Rhys to tell me that I was young and inexperienced, that I knew nothing of politics and war.
Yet Rhys only brushed his thumb over my cheek. “They may be angry at the lies we’ve fed them over the centuries.”
“Then we will make it clear that we understand their feelings—and make it clear that we had no alternative way to protect our people.”
“We’ll show them the Court of Dreams,” he said quietly.
I nodded. We’d show them—and also show Keir, and Eris, and Beron. Show who we were to our allies—and our enemies.
Stars glimmered and burned out in those beautiful eyes. “And what of your powers?” The king had known of them, too—or guessed at it.
I knew from his cautious tone that he’d already formed an opinion. But the choice was mine—he’d face it at my side no matter what I decided.
And as I thought it through … “I think they’ll see the revealing of our good sides as manipulative if it also comes out that your mate has stolen power from them all. If the king plans to use that information against us—we’ll deal with that later.”
“Technically, that power was gifted, but … you’re right. We’ll have to walk a fine enough line regarding how we show ourselves—spin it the right way so they don’t think it’s a trap or scheme. But when it comes to you …” Darkness blotted out the stars in his eyes. The darkness of assassins and thieves, the darkness of uncompromising death. “You could tip the scale in Hybern’s favor if any of them are considering an alliance. Beron alone might try to kill you, with or without this war. I doubt even Eris could keep him from it.”
I could have sworn the war-camp shuddered at the power that rumbled awake—the wrath. Voices outside the tent dropped to whispers. Or outright silence.
But I leaned over and kissed him lightly. “We’ll deal with it,” I said onto his mouth.
He pulled his mouth from mine, his face grave. “We keep all your powers but the ones I gave you hidden. As my High Lady, you will have been expected to have received some.”
I swallowed hard, nodding, and took a long drink from his goblet of water. No more lies, no more deceptions—beyond my magic. Let Tarquin be the first and last casualty of our deceit.
I chewed on my lip. “What about Miryam and Drakon? Have you learned anything about where they might have gone?” Along with that legion of aerial warriors?
The question seemed to drag him up from wherever he’d gone while contemplating what now lay before us.
Rhys sighed, scanning those casualty lists again. The dark ink seemed to absorb the dim faelight. “No. Az’s spies have found no trace of them in any of the surrounding territories.” He rubbed his temple. “How do you vanish an entire people?”
I frowned. “I suppose Jurian’s tactic to draw them out worked against him.” Jurian—there hadn’t been a whisper of him at the battle today.
“It would seem so.” He shook his head, the light dancing in the raven-black locks of his hair. “I should have established protocols with them—centuries ago. Ways to contact them, for them to contact us, if we ever needed help.”