Tamlin paused a few feet away. None of us said a word. Not as Lucien opened his mouth.

“Tamlin—”

But Tamlin’s attention had gone to the clothes Lucien now wore. The Illyrian leathers.

He might as well have been wearing Night Court black.

It was an effort to keep my mouth shut, to not explain that Lucien didn’t have any other clothes with him, and that they weren’t a sign of his allegiance—

Tamlin just shook his head, loathing simmering in his green eyes, and walked past. Not a word.

I looked at Lucien in time to see the guilt, the devastation, flicker in that russet eye. Rhys had indeed told Lucien everything about Tamlin’s covert assistance. His help in dragging Beron here. Saving me at the camp. But Lucien remained standing with us as Tamlin found his place in the sitting room to our right. Did not glance at his friend even once.

Lucien wasn’t foolish enough to beg for forgiveness.

That conversation, that confrontation—it would take place at another time. Another day, or week, or month.

I lost track of who filed in afterward. Drakon and Miryam, along with a host of their people. Including—

I started at the slight, dark-haired female who entered on Miryam’s right, her wings much smaller than the other Seraphim.

I glanced to where Azriel stood on Rhys’s other side, bandaged all over and wings in splints after he’d worked them too hard yesterday. The shadowsinger nodded in confirmation. Nephelle.

I smiled at the legendary warrior-scribe when she noticed my stare as she passed by. She grinned right back at me.

Kallias and Viviane flowed in, along with that female who was indeed her sister. Then Tarquin and Varian. Thesan and his battered Peregryn captain—whose hand he tightly held.

Helion was the last of the High Lords to arrive. I didn’t dare look through the ruined doorway to where Lucien now stood in the sitting room, close to Elain’s side as she and my sister silently kept against the wall by the intact bay of windows.

Beron, wisely, didn’t approach—and Eris only looked over every now and then. To watch.

Helion was limping, flanked by a few of his captains and generals, but still managed a grim smile. “Better enjoy this while it lasts,” he said to me and Rhys. “I doubt we’ll be so unified when we walk out of here.”

“Thank you for the words of encouragement,” I said tightly, and Helion chuckled as he eased inside.

More and more people filled that room, the tense conversation broken up by bursts of laughter or greeting. Rhys at last told our family to head into the room—while he and I waited.

Waited and waited, long minutes.

It’d take them longer to arrive, I realized. Since they could not winnow or move as quickly through the world.

I was about to turn into the room to begin without them when two male figures filled the night-darkened doorway.

Jurian. And Graysen.

And behind them … a small contingent of other humans.

I swallowed hard. Now the difficult part would begin.

Graysen looked inclined to turn around, the fresh cut down his cheek crinkling as he scowled, but Jurian nudged him in. A black eye bloomed on the left side of Jurian’s face. I wondered if Miryam or Drakon had given it to him. My money was on the former.

Graysen only gave us a tight nod. Jurian smirked at me.

“I put you on opposite ends of the room,” I said.

From both Miryam and Drakon. And from Elain.

Neither man responded, and only strode, proud and tall, into that room full of Fae.

Rhys kissed my cheek and strode in behind them. Which left—

As Lucien had promised, with darkness now overhead, Vassa found me.

The last to arrive—the last piece of this meeting. She stormed over the threshold, breathless and unfaltering, and paused only a foot away.

Her unbound hair was a reddish gold, thick dark lashes and brows framing the most stunningly blue eyes I’d ever seen. Beautiful, her freckled skin golden-brown and gleaming. Only a few years older than me, but … young-feeling. Coltish. Fierce and untamed, despite her curse.

Vassa said in a lilting accent, “Are you Feyre Cursebreaker?”

“Yes,” I said, sensing Rhys listening wryly from the other room, where the rest were now beginning to quiet themselves. To wait for me.

Vassa’s full mouth tightened. “I am sorry—about your father. He was a great man.”

Nesta, striding out of the sitting room, halted at the words. Looked Vassa up and down.

Vassa returned the favor. “You are Nesta,” Vassa declared, and I wondered how my father had described her so that Vassa would know. “I am sorry for your loss, too.”

Nesta simply regarded her with that cool indifference.

“I heard you slew the King of Hybern,” Vassa said, those dark brows narrowing as she again surveyed Nesta, searching for any sign of a warrior beneath the blue dress she wore. Vassa only shrugged to herself when Nesta didn’t reply and said to me, “He was a better father to me than my own. I owe much to him, and will honor his memory as long as I live.”

The look Nesta was giving the queen was enough to wither the grass beyond the shattered front door. It didn’t get any better as Vassa said, “Can you break the curse on me, Feyre Archeron?”

“Is that why you agreed to come so quickly?”

A half smile. “Partly. Lucien suggested you had gifts. And other High Lords do as well.”

Like his father—his true one. Helion.

She went on before I could answer. “I do not have much time left—before I must return to the lake. To him.”

To the death-lord who held her leash. “Who is he?” I breathed.

Vassa only shook her head, waving a hand as her eyes darkened, and repeated, “Can you break my curse?”

“I—I don’t know how to break those kinds of spells,” I admitted. Her face fell. I added, “But … we can try.”

She considered. “With the healing of our armies, I won’t be able to leave for some time. Perhaps it will give me a … loophole, as Lucien called it, to remain longer.” Another shake of the head. “We shall discuss this later,” she declared. “Along with the threat my fellow queens pose.”

My heart stumbled a beat.

A cruel smile curved Vassa’s mouth. “They will try to intervene,” she said. “With any sort of peace talks. Hybern sent them back before this battle, but I have no doubt they were smart enough to encourage that. Not to waste their armies here.”

“But they will elsewhere?” Nesta demanded.

Vassa tossed her smooth sheet of hair over a shoulder. “We shall see. And you will think of ways to help me.”

I waited until she headed for the sitting room before I flicked my brows up at the order. Either she didn’t know or didn’t care that I was also a queen in my right.

Nesta smirked. “Good luck with that.”

I scowled, shoving down the worry already blooming in my gut, and said, “Where are you going? The meeting is starting.”

“Why should I be in there?”

“You’re the guest of honor. You killed the king.”

Shadows flickered in her face. “So what.”

I blinked. “You’re our emissary as well. You should be here for this.”