Rhysand

"You're not seriously thinking of going."

Mor's voice pulled me from my dark brooding as I stared malevolently down at the embossed invitation that had arrived an hour earlier.

To the High Lord of the Night Court. Your presence is requested…

I sighed. "Someone has to." The rules of diplomacy required it.

"That doesn't mean it has to be you," Mor snapped.

"I've no wish to have to drag you back from Hybern again," Azriel added drily, his casual tone belying the warning beneath it.

"Send Keir, you know he lives for this kind of bullshit." Cassian smirked. "Maybe he and Amarantha will finish each other off."

"Never underestimate Amarantha," I said sharply. Cassian rolled his eyes in response. I had to remind myself that he wasn't there during the war, hadn't seen the depths of her cunning and cruelty.

"Rhys."

I met my cousin's earnest, worried gaze.

"I'm not going," I assured her. By rights, I shouldn't even be invited. My name was nowhere on that treaty. Not even all the other High Lords had signed it, according to Azriel's network, and the irony of my one ally in this matter did not escape me.

Cunning bitch. That Spring—once Amarantha's staunchest ally—hesitated should have been enough to give the others ample pause, and yet they had practically fallen all over each other in their haste to treat with Hybern. I had tried to arrange for a meeting of the seven of us, but Amarantha had outmaneuvered me, moving through the Courts with a speed even I had not anticipated. And with only five signatures, knowing or guessing the remaining two would not be granted, she was declaring victory, a new era of prosperity and cooperation, as the parchment in my fist proclaimed.

"I know that look," Mor pressed.

"I understand the situation," I said tightly, tossing the invitation aside with a note of finality. "Inform Keir that his services as steward of the Night Court will be required."

Yes, I understood the situation all too well, better than my cousin possibly could. A scourge had been set loose upon our lands, and it must be exterminated. Once again, my great enemy lay within reach, now a direct threat to all I loved. I would not be denied this time.

Evading my friends the night of Amarantha's reception would, hopefully, be the most difficult part of the evening. I had managed to distract Mor with an urgent request from Velaris's mayor on a matter of city governance. It had not been difficult to get Cass to tempt Azriel out for a round of drinks, and Amren—my official cover to the others—reposed unsuspectingly inside her apartment. She'd been absent when the invitation arrived, and I hadn't seen fit to inform her of it, anticipating a reaction similar to Mor's.

As for Amarantha, I should be able to catch her off guard. If she was in a celebratory mood, she would be drinking, her mind open for the taking. By the time I was done with her, she would have confessed to and paid for every crime she had ever committed against my people, as well as any she was inevitably still planning against Prythian. I would make sure the High Lords knew all her intentions unmistakably, so that if retaliation came from Hybern, he would meet a united Prythian front.

I met Keir and his entourage at the base of the sacred Mountain, straightening my impeccable attire casually. Amarantha had not specified a distinct location, only something about the "diplomatic harbor of neutrality in the shadow of the Mountain." I'd assumed she meant the foothills, but a string of faelights illuminated a path that disappeared into the caves beneath. I frowned.

"Milord?" Keir's face was a study in suppressed shock and outrage as he stared openly. "I… was informed you would not be in attendance tonight."

I shrugged impassively. "Plans have changed. But don't think you've gotten all dressed up for nothing, Keir. A High Lord still requires an appropriate retinue." He eyed the empty space at my back shrewdly but said nothing, gesturing stiffly for me to take his place in the lead.

I stalked down the sloping tunnel at the head of my Court, letting my power dim the glow of the faelights as we followed them into the heart of the Mountain. The low rumble of a large crowd deep in polite conversation reached me first, and I pushed out to examine the space Amarantha had chosen to entertain from through the eyes of a Dawn courtier.

The hall was larger than I'd expected. I had no idea whether it was one Amarantha had found or created, but as I observed the details, familiarity tugged at me, and my wrath ignited. I had hosted Amarantha in my Court only once, in the Hewn City, and she apparently had taken note of its design. The bloodred chandelier lights, the black marble dais, even the thrones—seven, for the High Lords of Prythian—all bore the mark of the Night Court in their design. But this Mountain was no mere Court; its ancient, hallowed space belonged to none, and yet it appeared for all the world as if Amarantha had claimed it for herself. I added the insult to my list of crimes as we approached the wide-flung entrance doors, pausing only to be announced.

I reached for Amarantha the moment I entered the room, sparing only a fraction of my attention for offering the expected pleasantries to those in attendance. That fraction narrowed considerably as I encountered the complex, intricate maze that was her shield.

I swore internally. Of course, of course Amarantha would have trained with a daemati. Hers was one of the most well-fortified minds I had ever encountered, a veritable labyrinth, designed not only to rebuff but to ensnare. This was going to take more work than I'd thought.

I circled the room slowly, the brooding, mysterious High Lord of Night, letting my steward play diplomat, as I often did at these functions. A drink was placed in my hand and I let it languish there, uninterested in refreshment of any kind tonight. Keeping my gaze carefully neutral, I flexed my mental talons and figuratively dug in.

Her shield was formed of many overlapping pieces, with gaps scattered deceptively throughout the layers. Each piece was uniquely shaped, some laddered together, others jointed like a snake. All were a pale bone-white, and I recoiled reflexively as I suddenly realized exactly what material Amarantha had used to construct her shield.

Human bones. The ladders were rib cages, the jointed trails spines. Tibias and fibulas intertwined with ulnas and scapulas, decorated with grinning skulls I could now recognize clearly. The gruesome imagery gave me added motivation not to brush up against any of the edges as I began slowly, painfully slowly, to weave my way through the minute gaps.

As slow as the going was, I knew that likely no other daemati alive would even be able to find let alone exploit the tiny corridors that exposed themselves to me as I delved deeper… deeper…

"A toast!" The words clanged through her mind as she shouted them to the assembled crowd, and I retreated hastily, cursing, to my own consciousness. So close. I'd nearly had it, I was certain.

I raised my glass impatiently, waiting for her attention to lapse once more, mentally rehearsing the path I had taken to avoid losing more time as Amarantha extolled the virtues of each of the Prythian Courts by name.

"And to Night," she finished, her eyes glittering as she turned them on me, "in whose darkness I find a particular kinship. May our union run as deep as the stars are cold."

I dipped my head absently, already slithering my way back toward the bone maze, and amid shouts of "To Prythian!" drank.

Blinding pain drove me to my knees, as if my very essence were being stripped away, and all my senses flared. I was vaguely aware of six other slumped figures scattered throughout the room, their courtiers stooping worriedly to their aid. I had no one here who would be the slightest bit concerned for my well-being. On instinct, I looked to Amarantha.

Her amused expression hadn't changed, and there was a hunger in her eyes as she surveyed the gasping High Lords around her, idly twisting a glowing red ruby around her finger.

My first instinct was to fight to hold on to the power I could now feel siphoning away from me, spooling inexorably toward that damn ring, but the cool, calculating part of me, the part I relied on in matters of governing and protecting my people, took over. I'd been a fool, walked right into her trap, so consumed with my own vengeance I didn't even stop to think that she might be one—or ten—steps ahead.

I reached out to the Night courtiers around me, even as I hurtled toward Velaris, multitasking feverishly as I wiped information from the minds at hand and activated the impenetrable shield Amren had helped me construct around our city. Amren… I thought dizzily. CassianAzrielMor. I knew my friends would come after me, might even try to take on Amarantha, who would very shortly now be truly unstoppable. I bound the shield to each of their essences, trapping them inside, working frantically against my own ticking clock.

Already three of the High Lords had lost consciousness, their power fully contained within Amarantha's trinket. I was the strongest by far, with the deepest well to draw from, but I knew even I didn't have much time.

I'm sorry, I nearly wept at Amren, accessing her mind and shoving all the information I had into it, knowing she would be able to parse through it all and apprise the others, would lead them in my stead.

Rhys?! Mor's panicked voice speared into me, causing me to cry out physically as the last of my power ebbed from my body.

I'm sorry, I whispered, cutting her off sharply before I slipped away, with a finality like the lid sliding onto a sarcophagus, into oblivion.

I awoke on my knees, being shaken roughly by one of Amarantha's horrors, its grip on my shoulders the only thing keeping me upright. All seven High Lords were lined up before the dais, facing the hushed and frightened-looking crowd of our attendants. I was the last to awaken, naturally, having been last to succumb.

"How good of you to join us, Lord Night," Amarantha said scathingly as she prowled past, tossing me a look of disdain.

She was as smug and self-satisfied as I had ever seen her as she paced along her line of captives. That's what we were now. I held back a shudder as I thought of the last time I'd been in this position, and then a wave of despair at the tide of regret threatening to drown me. If only I had stayed away, as I'd been advised—practically ordered—to do. Her plan never would have worked without all seven High Lords present, a fact she knew all too well.

She tsked theatrically, tapping her lip as if in thought. "Seven rulers, all equal in stature… However could Prythian call itself united under such fragmented leadership?" She faced her audience, and I noticed the gleam of armored guards closing in on the gathered fae, looking garish in their finery as they quailed under the inspection of their conqueror. "My subjects, you need be troubled by this misguidance no longer! I am here to unite Prythian under one absolute monarchy, ushering in a glorious age of unparalleled prosperity and peace."

The guards stepped forward as one, pounding spears on the stone floor and shouting, "Hail, the queen! Long live Amarantha!" repeatedly until the array of courtiers caught on, joining reluctantly in subdued tones.

Amarantha's mouth twisted. "Your want of enthusiasm is noted…" she said ominously, staring into the crowd. "But I'm sure you will come to find that I am above all a benevolent ruler, and Prythian will prosper under my singular reign."

She spun on her heel, eyes glittering as she addressed the seven of us. "You will swear fealty to me, here and now." She didn't need to pair it with a threat, smirking as she fondled the ruby ring that now held the combined might of all seven High Lords of Prythian.

She approached Beron, opposite from me on the end of the lineup, who, predictably, snarled and opened his mouth to spew forth a tirade—except, no sound emerged from his moving lips. Amarantha's smile widened at the chance to showcase the level of control she now held over us, and Beron suddenly doubled over as if he'd been kicked, wheezing loudly in the deathly silent hall.

"Care to try again, Lord Autumn?"

"I, Beron, High Lord of the Autumn Court, hereby swear fealty of life and lands to Amarantha, Queen of Prythian," he spat the words with fire in his eyes. Amarantha smirked again as she offered her ring, the same ring that now held us in her bondage, for him to kiss. He did, with an expression as if he'd swallowed a grapefruit whole.

The next High Lord, Nostrus, showed only resignation as he gave his pledge. Boreal was tense, Triand stoic. When she came to Tamlin, whose eyes glittered with impotent fury as he bent to kiss the ring, Amarantha caressed his face tenderly, causing his whole frame to stiffen.

"Tamlin," she crooned. "Your father was such a dear friend to me. Such a shame he's no longer with us… a crime, even." I tensed imperceptibly as I felt her gaze slide cruelly down to me. "Such a disgrace, how Prythian's former government failed to bring about the appropriate justice for his murder."

She faced the tense crowd and spoke rapidly, harshly. "For high crimes against the Spring Court, I hereby sentence those responsible… to death."

As if on some pre-agreed signal, the guards surrounding the crowd surged forward, blades flashing. It took me a moment to understand they were moving only among the Court of Nightmares—my Court, in Amarantha's eyes—cutting down all in their path as those who had realized what was happening scrambled to flee. I reached automatically for the minds of the guards, but my well was utterly dry. My blood turned to ice as I realized I was truly, completely powerless.

The slaughter went on for what felt like minutes as I watched, with screams not only from the dying but from members of the other Courts, who in the chaos couldn't tell whether they were also targets. My eyes caught on the already bloating face of a female with a weeping red slash across her throat. She was young, on the verge of being bartered off to whomever her family might wish to build an alliance with.

First casualties of war.

The thought sprang unbidden to my mind as I continued to soak in the destruction, my face an unfeeling mask. A different kind of war than the last, to be sure, but as long as my enemy lived, I would be continuously at war now. She was doing this to hurt me, to break me, as she had with my warriors centuries before, as she would continue to seek out any attachment I might have in order to tear it apart. My stomach twisted as I thought of Velaris, and I prayed the shield would hold without my power to sustain it.

At length, Amarantha's voice rang out. "Enough." A beat of shocked silence, and then the screams turned to wails as those left alive, about half, by my count, began to identify the bodies.

I felt Amarantha's gaze on me, and I wrenched my eyes away from the gruesome sight, giving nothing away in my expression. I raised an eyebrow blandly as our eyes met, and her lips twisted in annoyance before she swept on to the next High Lord in line, without so much as an order to dispose of the bodies.

My mind churned behind the impassive façade as Thesan gave his pledge. A different kind of war… one requiring a different kind of weapon. Subtlety and deception would be my tools in this subterranean war camp. I had lost a grave battle tonight, and the consequences of that would continue to haunt me, but I was ready now to launch an offensive, by whatever means necessary.

When it was my turn to swear, I said coolly, as if I could think of nothing more inconsequential, "I, Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, hereby swear fealty of life and lands to Amarantha, Queen of Prythian."

I kissed the ring with equal dispassion, and immediately felt a rush of power returning to me. I stilled in surprise, then relaxed. A drop, barely enough to function on a day-to-day basis, though as a percentage, my portion was probably greater than anyone, including Amarantha, realized. I intended to keep it that way, for now.

Amarantha's stare lingered on me, as if waiting for something, so I gave my best Court of Nightmares smile, letting it spread languidly across my face and forcing her to be first to look away.

She turned her back on the crowd with a wave of her hand that indicated dismissal and a return to the festivities—her entourage would celebrate their conquest long into the night—settling herself onto the sole black throne remaining behind us. Tamlin and Thesan winked out immediately, followed closely by their retinues. After some hesitation, Nostrus and Boreal, seeing no retaliation or even acknowledgment from Amarantha, followed. Only Beron and Triand remained with their advisers, lingering on the edges of a floor now filled with increasingly monstrous revelers, quietly evaluating the transformed state of Prythian rather than return to their lands just yet.

I, of course, had nowhere to return to. Any perceived attachments would be used against me. Even something as innocuous as my ancestral home, which in reality I rarely frequented, could not be demonstrated to be any kind of refuge from this new court under the Mountain. My heart, deep down in the recesses that still clung to feeling, ached at the knowledge that this cavernous abomination was now my home, until I could find a way to break free of it, which I solemnly vowed to do, whatever the cost.

I ignored the remaining contingent of the Court of Nightmares—the best thing I could do for them here, where I could still feel Amarantha's eyes on me—as they somberly cleared away their dead. Hands in my pockets, I strolled unhurriedly toward the refreshment table. I could think of nothing more interesting to me now than the array of libations available.

Out of curiosity, more than anything, I probed Amarantha's mind gently as I busied myself with filling a goblet, but her shield was now an incomprehensible mass as I tried in vain to locate the fissures and tunnels that had been so perfectly accessible to me not one hour ago.

A rising tide of malevolence drew my attention, and I turned just in time to see a grief-stricken member of my Court rush wildly at Amarantha, a dark blade clutched in his fist. I half thought I should restrain him, take control of his mind and stop this, but I admit, I was curious to see what would happen, and I could also see in his mind that this male had nothing left to live for in the wake of his mate and son's killings.

Amarantha watched with something like anticipation in her eyes as he hurtled closer. When he reached the throne, the thrust of his blade was repelled by some invisible force—a ward, as I had much suspected. The deflated wretch was caught between two of her guards, then hauled off at a flick of Amarantha's fingers. Her eyes found me in the crowd, and I raised my glass with a look of appreciation. She raised her eyebrow in return, but as she looked away, I saw a slight smile steal across her face.

Interesting… I thought as I quietly reached out again, this time to end the now out-of-sight male's suffering before Amarantha could intensify it. Ending him did take slightly more effort than I was used to, especially as I intended it to look natural, but it was still well within my range. I continued my prowl around the room, avoiding Beron, Triand, and Keir—I didn't want to confer with any of the other High Lords just now, and I had nothing to say to my fuming steward—taking the opportunity to test the limits of my diminished prowess.

Conniving bitch! How dare she… Prythian will have its revenge, whore, just you wait. Just because I didn't want to talk with Beron didn't mean I couldn't eavesdrop, and he was notoriously bad at shielding his more incendiary thoughts.

Triand was trickier. The High Lord of Day's mental shields weren't nearly as intricate as Amarantha's, but I still was unable to slip in the way I was accustomed to. I decided to try a more aggressive approach.

"Agh!" I heard as Triand grabbed his temple. Must be the wine… he thought blearily. I retreated quickly, my purpose not to invade his privacy. I had learned what I needed.

I felt eyes on me again and turned back to Amarantha, who was watching me coyly. I smiled lazily and took a long pull of my drink, licking my lips slowly after I finished. She blushed, a little too noticeably, and looked away again.

So it's to be bedroom games, then. The thought turned my stomach, but the cold part of me that had so blithely assessed the casualties earlier observed that a war was not won by defense alone, and perhaps I had just found my weapon of offense. She may be affecting the girlish blush in a ploy to have me—some sort of continued revenge or power play, I had to imagine—but I could make her blush genuinely, and much, much more… And if I could keep her eyes on me, they wouldn't be on my Court, or, more importantly, on what might lie beyond the borders of my territory.

For my reputation alone wouldn't be enough to protect my people, not from Amarantha. I would need to prove myself the monster they all suspected, move not just in the shadows but beside the throne, with no unexplained absences or remotely questionable movements. Amarantha had modeled her stronghold here after the Court of Nightmares, a place where the dreaded High Lord of Night would be eminently contented, would thrive on the darkness and depravity of it. I felt myself slipping into the mask, one I would wear now for the rest of my life if I had to, if losing my life meant freeing my people.

And perhaps this was an opportunity, I told myself. The closeness shared in bed might give me exactly what I needed to find any vulnerability, sow seeds of chaos, or whatever else it might take to rid our lands of this pestilence. But first, to do any of that, I had to take control of the situation. I had to convince her—convince them all—that I desired her. Above all, I had to leave her wanting more.

So, when I felt a hand brush daintily inside the joint of my arm, I turned with a lazy smile and said in a low, sultry voice, "Good evening, Your Majesty."

Amarantha's bedroom was lavishly decorated, hardly the domain of someone who occupied it on a whim. I would wonder later how long she had been planning her coup, but in this moment I had eyes only for the room's occupant.

She reached for the lapels of my jacket, but I captured her wrists smoothly, flashing her the arrogant grin I'd used for centuries on willing females as I held her there.

Her lips thinned, and her eyes flashed dangerously, but I simply lowered my mouth to her palm, nipping at the sensitive spots I found there and moving down her arm until she twisted her fingers in my hair, pulling me insistently to her bodice. I chuckled against her and gently extricated myself, bringing her to me instead, trapping her arms between us and forcing her gaze upward.

"That's not what you want," I crooned, drawing a finger up her spine, following it with a whisper of power and smirking at her involuntary shudder.

"You're in no position to tell me what I want," she snapped, her breathless voice at odds with the scowl on her face, and even that slipping.

I pressed forward, holding her mind lightly in my grasp, just enough to breathe movement into her legs as I backed her against the wall. "You've invited the High Lord of Night to your bed. Surely, you didn't think this would be some ordinary tumble? No…" I whispered into her ear. "A female like you, so powerful, so formidable… you want the illusion of dependency. You want to be taken, to surrender…" I dipped my mouth into the hollow of her throat, flicking my tongue against the most sensitive spot as I palmed her breast with my other hand.

"And what is it about your situation that would make you presume so boldly?" she said, a note of suspicion creeping into her voice. I laughed darkly.

"We're alike, you and I," I told her, leaning in until her head brushed against the wall. "I know you've heard the stories of my Court." I whispered silkily into her ear, "Think of what we could accomplish… together."

"And here I thought you simply wanted me." She pouted, prettily, I imagined she thought, looking up at me through hooded lashes.

"Oh, but I do," I purred, nibbling sensually on her neck and rewarded by a spike in her heart rate. She pushed weakly against me, but I refused to yield, alternating teeth with a flick of my tongue.

"I don't usually get such… enthusiastic reaction following my executions," she said breathlessly, trying to regain control of the situation. She'd been chasing my rage, but I wouldn't give her the satisfaction. I needed to make her think she wanted my ardor more.

"Every member of my Court knows they exist only by my will and… pleasure." She gasped as I punctuated the last word with a well-placed finger.

"But," I said lightly, letting her fall limp as I retreated, straightening my jacket and turning away indifferently, "if you're so sure of what you want, I'm sure there are plenty of other males here who would give it to you. I'll see myself out."

"No!" she blurted, and her blush was true this time as she bit her lip too late against the unintended outburst.

I smiled and turned back, ready to begin my assault in earnest. By the time she started screaming, I knew I had what I needed, and with every thrust I pictured the blade I would one day plunge into her flesh instead.