“Not amongst our family.”

Warmth spread through me at the words—our family.

He took my hand, interlacing our fingers. “We can make whatever rules we want. You have every right to question me, push me—both in private and in public.” A snort. “Of course, if you decide to truly kick my ass, I might request that it’s done behind closed doors so I don’t have to suffer centuries of teasing, but—”

“I won’t undermine you in public. And you won’t undermine me.”

He remained quiet, letting me think, speak.

“We can question each other through the bond if we’re around people other than our friends,” I said. “But for now, for these initial years, I’d like to show the world a unified front … That is, if we survive.”

“We’ll survive.” Uncompromising will in those words, that face. “But I want you to feel comfortable pushing me, calling me out—”

“When have I ever not done that?” He smiled. But I added, “I want you to do the same—for me.”

“Deal. But amongst our family … call me on my bullshit all you want. I insist, actually.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s fun.”

I nudged him with an elbow.

“Because you’re my equal,” he said. “And as much as that means having each other’s backs in public, it also means that we grant each other the gift of honesty. Of truth.”

I surveyed the bustling city around us. “Can I give you a bit of truth, then?”

He stilled, but said, “Always.”

I blew out a breath. “I think you should be careful—working with Keir. Not for how despicable he is, but because … I think you could truly wound Mor if you don’t play it right.”

Rhys dragged a hand through his hair. “I know. I know.”

“Is it worth it—whatever troops he can offer? If it means hurting her?”

“We’ve been working with Keir for centuries. She should be used to it by now. And yes—his troops are worth it. The Darkbringers are well trained, powerful, and have been idle too long.”

I considered. “The last time we went to the Court of Nightmares, I played your whore.”

He winced at the word.

“But I am now your High Lady,” I went on, stroking a finger over the back of his hand. He tracked the movement. My voice dropped lower. “To get Keir to agree to aid us … Any tips on what mask I should wear to the Hewn City?”

“It’s for you to decide,” he said, still watching my finger trace idle circles on his skin. “You’ve seen how I am there—how we are. It is for you to decide how to play into that.”

“I suppose I’d better decide soon—not just for this, but the meeting with the other High Lords in two weeks.”

Rhys slid a sidelong glance to me. “Every court is invited.”

“I doubt he’ll come, given that he is Hybern’s ally and knows we’d kill him.”

The river breeze stirred his blue-black hair. “The meeting will occur with a binding spell that forces us all into cease-fire. If someone breaks it while the meeting occurs, the magic will demand a steep cost. Probably their life. Tamlin wouldn’t be stupid enough to attack—nor us him.”

“Why invite him at all?”

“Excluding him will only give him more ammunition against us. Believe me, I have little desire to see him. Or Beron. Who perhaps is higher on my kill list than Tamlin right now.”

“Tarquin will be there. And we are pretty high on his kill list.”

“Even with the blood rubies, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to attack during the meeting.” Rhys sighed through his nose.

“How many allies can we count on? Beyond Keir and the Hewn City, I mean.” I glanced down the river walkway. The diners and revelers were too busy enjoying themselves to even note our presence, even with Rhys’s recognizable wings. Still—perhaps not the best place for this conversation.

“I’m not sure,” Rhys admitted. “Helion and his Day Court, probably. Kallias … maybe. Things have been strained with the Winter Court since Under the Mountain.”

“I assume Azriel is going to be finding out more.”

“He’s already on the hunt.”

I nodded. “Amren claimed she and Nesta needed help researching ways to repair the wall.” I gestured to the city. “Point me toward the best library to find that sort of thing.”

Rhys’s brows lifted. “Right now? Your work ethic puts mine to shame.”

I hissed, “Tomorrow, smartass.”

He chuckled, wings flaring and tucking in tight. Wings … wings he’d allowed Lucien to see.

“You trust Lucien.”

Rhys angled his head at the not-quite question. “I trust in the fact that we currently have possession of the one thing he wants above all else. And as long as that remains, he’ll try to stay on our good side. But if that changes … His talent was wasted in the Spring Court. There was a reason he had that fox mask, you know.” His mouth tugged to the side. “If he got Elain away, back to Spring or wherever … do you believe, deep down, that he wouldn’t sell what he knows? Either for gain, or to ensure she stays safe?”

“You let him hear everything tonight, though.”

“None of it is information that would let Hybern wreck us. The king likely already knows that we’ll go for Keir’s alliance—that we’ll try to find a way to stop him from bringing down the wall. He wasn’t subtle with Dagdan and Brannagh’s searching. And he’ll expect us to try to band the High Lords together. Which is why the meeting location will not be decided until later. Will I tell Lucien then? Bring him along?”

I considered his question: Did I trust Lucien? “I don’t know, either,” I admitted, and sighed. “I don’t like that Elain is a pawn in this.”

“I know. It’s never easy.”

He’d dealt with such things for centuries. “I want to wait—see what Lucien does over the next two weeks. How he acts, with us and Elain. What Azriel thinks of him.” I frowned. “He’s not a bad person—he’s not evil.”

“He certainly isn’t.”

“I just …” I met his calm, steady stare. “There is risk in trusting him without question.”

“Did he discuss what he feels regarding Tamlin?”

“No. I didn’t want to push on that. He was … remorseful about what happened with me, and Hybern, and Elain. Would he have felt that way without Elain in the mix? I don’t know—maybe. I don’t think he would have left, though.”

Rhys brushed the hair from my face. “It’s all part of the game, Feyre darling. Who to trust, when to trust them—what information to barter.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

“Sometimes. Right now, I don’t. Not when the risks are this high.” His fingers grazed my brow. “When I have so much to lose.”

I laid my palm on his chest, right over those Illyrian tattoos beneath his clothes, right over his heart. Felt the sturdy beat echoing into my skin and bones.

I forgot the city around us as he met my eyes, lips hovering over my skin, and murmured, “We will keep planning for the future, war or no war. I will keep planning for our future.”

My throat burned, and I nodded.

“We deserve to be happy,” he said, his eyes sparkling enough to tell me that he recalled the words I’d given him on the town house roof after the attack. “And I will fight with everything I have to ensure it.”

“We will fight,” I said hoarsely. “Not just you—not anymore.”

Too much. He had given too much already, and still seemed to think it was not enough.

But Rhys only peered over his broad shoulder, to the cheerful restaurant behind us. “That first night we all came here,” he said, and I followed his gaze, watching the workers set the tables with loving precision. “When you told Sevenda that you felt awake while eating her food …” He shook his head. “It was the first time you had looked … peaceful. Like you were indeed awake, alive again. I was so relieved I thought I’d puke right onto the table.”

I recalled the long, strange look he’d given me when I’d finally spoken. Then the long walk we’d taken home, when we’d heard that music he’d sent to my cell Under the Mountain.