Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

rowaelinfeyrhys: I'm glad you liked that scene. There's more coming for those two. :)

FHeronBeingLaazy: Thank you! Yeah, I know I'm not the best at writing these characters, or writing in general, but I try, and I hope it's better in this chapter!

parietheplatypus: Haha yeah! :) I added more drama in this chapter, enjoy. :)


Feyre

Feyre was awoken to Mor's chipper tones.

"FeyFey?"

Feyre groaned. "Please never call me that again, Mor. And how the hell did you get into my room?"

"You didn't lock the door." Blearily, Feyre opened an eye to find Mor standing above her grinning wickedly. Sighing, Feyre blinked both of her eyes open.

"So how are you feeling today, Feyre?" Mor asked.

"Tired," Feyre scowled. "No thanks to you."

"Oh, come on, sleepyhead. It's eight in the morning. Just get your ass out of bed."

"I would, but I'm not in clothes," Feyre grimaced.

Mor laughed. "I should bring Rhys in here right now."

"Oh, believe me, he's been in this situation already," Feyre said.

Mor gasped. "He's seen you…" she waved her hands around, "you know?"

"Nope, but he's gotten as close as you are now," Feyre sighed. "What do you want with me, Morrigan?"

"Please never call me that," Mor said. "And I want two things. Firstly, Amren told me to tell you to get ready. She seems to be under the impression that if I tell you, you're more likely to do it than if she tells you."

"Highly improbable," Feyre replied briskly, staring Mor down. "And the second reason?"

"I want to know," she winked, "how your little bout of lovesick jealousy is going."

Feyre's jaw dropped. She facepalmed. "I am not, and never was, going through any bout of lovesick jealousy. I was just a little put off at Rhys' shameless flirting, that's all. And I'll have you know, my dear," she looked Mor in the eyes, "I'm through with that."

She laughed. "If you're put off at Rhys, wait until you see Cassian. He is going to have some time in the city today."

Feyre's brow furrowed. "What are you doing in the city?"

"Nothing important," Mor shrugged. "That was all just a cover. This mission is for you, Rhys, and Amren. Cassian, Azriel, and I are not needed, so we're going to be chilling in the city today." She smiled. "I can get you a souvenir, if you like."

"No, thanks," Feyre allowed a smile to slip onto her face. "I'm going to get dressed now." She gestured for Mor to leave.

"Your wish is my command," Mor winked, then turned around and exited the room.


Rhys

"So here's the deal," Rhys explained to Feyre. "We are going to be having a meeting over deeply confidential matters. Can you be trusted?"

"Well, yeah," she stammered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "but why are you taking me then?"

"Feyre," he said, looking her in the eyes, "your situation is very unusual. Tarquin may be interested, he might warm up to you. And besides," he smiled, "I trust you." He looked at her hopefully.

Feyre grinned back. "Okay, great. Tell me everything."

"Okay." He took a deep breath. "Do you remember Hybern?"

"Yeah?" Feyre tilted her head. "What do they have to do with anything?"

"Well, we think Hybern is trying to conquer our kingdoms. All seven of them. In one shot. And we have no idea what to do about it."

Solemnly, Feyre nodded. He couldn't tell what was going on in her head, behind those beautiful eyes. She looked beautiful today, he had to admit. Even dressed in a simple purple blouse and black pants, she looked beautiful.

Shaking these thoughts aside, he continued. "There is… a weapon Hybern has. A… big and powerful bomb. He has it right now, and with it, he has the power to win the war. So us seven kingdoms, and republics, and empires, need to do something about it."

"Wait." Feyre held up a hand. "What's a bomb?"

Rhys frowned. "You don't know what a bomb is?"

"I have no clue," Feyre admitted. "Weapons in Chlorida were cannons and swords and crossbows…"

"You should be glad Cassian isn't here, he would tease you endlessly," Rhys laughed. "Basically, here's the gist of it. A bomb is an explosive. It explodes. There's science behind it, too. The bomb in question is an atomic bomb, one of the most powerful types."

"Ah," Feyre smiled. "Explosives? One would think Asterians, with all their advanced ideas and technology, would be less crude."

"Honestly, I agree," Rhys laughed breathlessly. She was amazing, really, when you got to know her.

"Anyway, an atomic bomb is next to impossible to disarm safely," Rhys continued. "Long ago, our ancestors pulled sticks to decide who would safeguard the instructions for disarming one."

"Long ago?" Feyre raised her eyebrows. "They had this bomb long ago?"

"Oh, well, by long ago I mean a couple generations ago. My grandparents or great-grandparents or something like that." He shrugged. "I read about it in a library."

"Wow, so well-read," Feyre teased. Rhys looked down. Feyre thought she was a bastard, he recalled, thanks to Cassian. He had never bothered to correct that impression. He looked up again. Feyre was still smiling. He smiled back. She looked great.

"As you probably have guessed by now, Tarquin has one half of the instructions."

Feyre frowned. "Only one half?"

"Yeah, this was one of the smarter moves of our ancestors. They decided one person should not be entrusted with the instructions entirely, lest they choose to ally with the wrong person."

"Who has the other half then?"

"You're not going to like this," Rhys grimaced. Feyre's eyes widened with understanding.

Before he could say anything more, the door opened. Amren stood there, waiting.

"Are you two done making love?" she asked. "We need to go."

"I bet Cassian dared her to say that," Rhys grumbled. "Come on, Feyre, we should get going."


Feyre

The Vasaran meeting hall was, well, everything Feyre had expected from it. Bright and welcoming, the hall was spacious and the table could have easily seated countless more.

"For all the kingdom leaders," Rhys had explained, and Feyre had nodded.

Now the six of them were clustered at the head of the table. Tarquin had taken the head seat. Amren, Feyre, and Rhys sat to one side of him, while Cresseida and Varian sat on the other side. Somehow, Amren had ended up seated across from Varian. Feyre wondered if it was a coincidence. Probably not.

"Welcome to Vasara, President Rhys. How are you enjoying your stay so far?" Tarquin said in a formal tone.

"Charming," Rhys replied, shaking Tarquin's hand.

"And who do you have here with you?"

"This is Amren, our Secretary of the Treasury," Rhys said, gesturing toward Amren. "And this is Feyre."

Feyre swallowed as Tarquin's imperious eyes took her in, examining her from top to bottom and certainly not missing a detail.

"Feyre," Tarquin mused. "Could you be… Tamlin's runaway wife?"

Rhys opened his mouth, but Feyre held out a hand. She would speak for herself.

"Yes," she said nervously. "It - it wasn't working for me."

"Hmm." Tarquin nodded. "Fair enough. Rest assured, you are safe here."

"Thank you," Feyre smiled. "It's a pleasure to be here with you." She took a breath. She was not going back to Tamlin. She was safe.

"So what brings your delegation here today?" Tarquin asked.

"Hybern," Rhys said grimly. "We think he has the atomic bomb."

Tarquin gasped. "Rhysand, that is a very serious accusation to make. Do you have any proof?"

Amren nodded. "Azriel, our Director of Covert Operations, has confirmed this. Unfortunately, we have no way of proving it to you."

"We need the instructions," Rhys said.

Tarquin gasped again. Varian and Cresseida just blinked.

"Those instructions have been hidden for decades. Centuries, even. We are not going to dredge them up when we have no proof." Tarquin slammed the table.

"Tarquin, please," Rhysand pleaded. "Those instructions could be our one chance at stopping the war."

"Please, Tarquin." Feyre's voice surprised everyone, including herself. "Tarquin, I was born in one of the poorest villages in Chlorida. I know what it is like to live ration to ration, always afraid of starving. But Tarquin, miserable as it is, it is a life. If you bring war onto the seven kingdoms, so many people won't even have that. And the rest… everyone who fights in the war, well, I have killed defenseless people, too, Tarquin. Let me tell you, it is worse than being killed yourself. The guilt will eat you up alive." She was pleading now, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Please. Help stop a war."

She looked at Rhysand, her face stained with tears. He took her hand and smiled. Well done, he mouthed.

Tarquin looked Feyre in the eyes. "Feyre, I really am sorry. Please believe me when I say I am sorry. But I can't just hand you the instructions right now, with no proof. We would have to have a meeting with all seven provinces to decide. I am sorry, Feyre, but I will have to deny your request." Varian and Cresseida nodded.

Feyre shrugged, shoving all her anger down. "Thank you for your consideration," she gave a diplomatic nod.

"You're most welcome," Tarquin replied. "Varian, Cresseida, please escort our guests to their room. You can leave at sunrise."

"Thank you," Rhys shook Tarquin's hand.

"Thank you," Tarquin replied.


Feyre

"I can't believe him!" Feyre spluttered. "How dare he turn us down?"

"This is the world of politics, Feyre," Rhys gave her a sympathetic look. "It's never sunshine and rainbows. He made a fair decision. Nevertheless, I am displeased with it. So we should do something about it."

"Like what?" Feyre glared at him. He was not supposed to be like other politicians. He was better, she knew it.

"We'll steal them," Rhys said simply. "I'll contact the others. We have six hours to do it. I think we can pull it off."

What.

Feyre gaped at him. How could he even consider doing such a thing? She had thought he was good, that his republic was pure and good in every way. Well, she had been wrong.

"Oh, I don't know about we, Rhysand. I thought you were better than him. But this? Rhys, this is wrong, plain and simple. There has to be another way." She started to walk out of his room.

"Wait," Rhys called. "Feyre. Wait."

"Fine," Feyre spat. "One chance."

"It's like you said, Feyre. War is coming to us, and if we don't do something about it, we are all dead. Or worse. Feyre, this is our only chance to stop the war. We need to do it. We can't let Tarquin stand in our way." Rhys set his jaw.

Feyre frowned. He was right. The war was bigger than all of this. That didn't make her feel any less uncomfortable, but…

"Okay," she said. "Okay. But I am not going to help you out." She stood up and started to slowly walk back. "I'm sure you can do it on your own. And I don't think there's anything I can contribute to this… heist." She shuddered.

"Fine," Rhys said mildly, raising an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure Azriel can do it on his own."

"Great," Feyre said coldly. "See you tomorrow." She stalked out of the room without another word.


Hi readers! So what did you think? I definitely had fun writing this chapter. I'm sorry to leave you on a kind of cliffhanger...but there's more coming.

I hope you like the alternate universe! I'm really not the best at world-building, but I did my best... :)

Questions? Comments? Suggestions? Please review! It encourages me a lot, and I will definitely listen to what you have to say.

That's all for today, stay beautiful!