“Hunting for our dinner.”

“No taste for such things these days?”

Tamlin’s eyes remained dull. “He left before I was awake.”

Hunting for dinner—because there were no servants here to make food. Or buy it.

I couldn’t say I felt bad for him.

Only for Lucien, once again stuck with being his crony.

I crossed an ankle over a knee and leaned back in my chair. “What’s this I hear about you not enforcing your borders?”

A beat of quiet. Then Tamlin gestured toward the door. “Do you see any sentries around to do it?”

Even they had abandoned him. Interesting. “Feyre did her work thoroughly, didn’t she.”

A flash of white teeth, a glimmer of light in his eyes. “With your coaching, I have no doubt.”

I smiled. “Oh, no. That was all her. Clever, isn’t she.”

Tamlin gripped the curved arm of his chair. “I thought the High Lord of the Night Court couldn’t be bothered to brag.”

I didn’t smile as I countered with, “I suppose you think I should be thanking you, for stepping up to assist in reviving me.”

“I have no illusions that the day you thank me for anything, Rhysand, is the day the burning fires of hell go cold.”

“Poetic.”

A low snarl.

Too easy. It was far too easy to bait him, rile him. And though I reminded myself of the wall, of the peace we needed, I said, “You saved my mate’s life on several occasions. I will always be thankful for that.”

I knew the words found their mark. My mate.

Low. It was a low blow. I had everything—everything I’d wished for, dreamed of, begged the stars to grant me.

He had nothing. Had been given everything and squandered it. He didn’t deserve my pity, my sympathy.

No, Tamlin deserved what he’d brought upon himself, this husk of a life.

He deserved every empty room, every snarl of thorns, every meal he had to hunt for himself.

“Does she know you’re here?”

“Oh, she certainly does.” One look at Feyre’s face yesterday when I’d invited her along had given me her answer before she’d voiced it: she had no interest in ever seeing the male across from me again.

“And,” I went on, “she was as disturbed as I was to learn that your borders are not as enforced as we’d hoped.”

“With the wall gone, I’d need an army to watch them.”

“That can be arranged.”

A soft snarl rumbled from Tamlin, and a hint of claws gleamed at his knuckles. “I’m not letting your ilk onto my lands.”

“My ilk, as you call them, fought most of the war that you helped bring about. If you need patrols, I will supply the warriors.”

“To protect humans from us?” A sneer.

My hands ached to wrap around his throat. Indeed, shadows curled at my fingertips, heralds of the talons lurking just beneath.

This house—I hated this house. Had hated it from the moment I’d set foot in it that night, when Spring Court blood had flowed, payment for a debt that could never be repaid. Payment for two sets of wings, pinned in the study.

Tamlin had burned them long ago, Feyre had told me. It made no difference. He’d been there that day.

Had given his father and brothers the information on where my sister and mother would be waiting for me to meet them. And done nothing to help them as they were butchered.

I still saw their heads in those baskets, their faces still etched with fear and pain. And saw them again as I beheld the High Lord of Spring, both of us crowned in the same blood-soaked night.

“To protect humans from us, yes,” I said, my voice going dangerously quiet. “To maintain the peace.”

“What peace?” The claws slid back under his skin as he crossed his arms, less muscled than I’d last seen them on the battlefields. “Nothing is different. The wall is gone, that’s all.”

“We can make it different. Better. But only if we start off the right way.”

“I’m not allowing one Night Court brute onto my lands.”

His people despised him enough, it seemed.

And at that word—brute—I had enough. Dangerous territory. For me, at least. To let my own temper get the better of me. At least around him.

I rose from the chair, Tamlin not bothering to stand. “You brought every bit of this upon yourself,” I said, my voice still soft. I didn’t need to yell to convey my rage. I never had.

“You won,” he spat, sitting forward. “You got your mate. Is that not enough?”

“No.”

The word echoed through the library.

“You nearly destroyed her. In every way possible.”

Tamlin bared his teeth. I bared mine back, temper be damned. Let some of my power rumble through the room, the house, the grounds.

“She survived it, though. Survived you. And you still felt the need to humiliate her, belittle her. If you meant to win her back, old friend, that wasn’t the wisest route.”

“Get out.”

I wasn’t finished. Not even close. “You deserve everything that has befallen you. You deserve this pathetic, empty house, your ravaged lands. I don’t care if you offered that kernel of life to save me, I don’t care if you still love my mate. I don’t care that you saved her from Hybern, or a thousand enemies before that.” The words poured out, cold and steady. “I hope you live the rest of your miserable life alone here. It’s a far more satisfying end than slaughtering you.” Feyre had once arrived at the same decision. I’d agreed with her then, still did, but now I truly understood.

Tamlin’s green eyes went feral.

I braced for it, readied for it—wanted it. For him to explode out of that chair and launch himself at me, for his claws to start slashing.

My blood hammered in my veins, my power coiling inside me.

We could wreck this house in our fight. Bring it down to rubble. And then I’d turn the stones and wood into nothing but black dust.

But Tamlin only stared. And after a heartbeat, his eyes lowered to the desk. “Get out.”

I blinked, the only sign of my surprise. “Not in the mood for a brawl, Tamlin?”

He didn’t bother to look at me again. “Get out” was all he said.

A broken male.

Broken, from his own actions, his own choices.

It was not my concern. He did not deserve my pity.

But as I winnowed away, the dark wind ripping around me, a strange sort of hollowness took root in my stomach.

Tamlin didn’t have shields around the house. None to prevent anyone from winnowing in, to guard against enemies appearing in his bedroom and slitting his throat.

It was almost as if he was waiting for someone to do it.

I found Feyre walking home from presumably doing some shopping, a few bags dangling from her gloved hands.

Her smile when I landed beside her, snow whipping around us, was like a fist to my heart.

It faded immediately, however, when she read my face.

Even in the middle of the busy city street, she put a hand to my cheek. “That bad?”

I nodded, leaning into her touch. The most I could manage.

She pressed a kiss to my mouth, her lips warm enough that I realized I’d gone cold.