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I shoved away the unbearable ache. The strange blend of terror and sorrow and absolute pain. I forced myself to look at my old friend and truly smile, saying, “He’s fine, thank you. And thank you for the gift.” Tarquin nodded, eyes shining. I squared my shoulders, pushing aside thoughts of my son. “It’s because of our friendship and our gratitude for your presence in our lives, Tarquin, that we wanted to talk to you.”

Some of the brightness dimmed from his eyes. And there—I beheld the burden curving his broad shoulders. The disappointment tightening his mouth.

My heart sank. “You won’t stand with us?”

Tarquin’s throat bobbed. “When you look at me like that, Feyre Cursebreaker, you make it an impossible decision indeed.”

“What changed? You were our ally against Hybern.”

Tarquin gazed across the glittering bay, to the ships and the city beyond. “Yes, but Hybern wanted to take our lands. Hybern attacked this city.” The sweet, salty breeze ruffled the folds of his regal robes, but he remained perfectly still as he said, “The dangers on the continent do not and will not affect us.” His eyes slid to mine, full of regret—and fear. “You are asking me to send my soldiers to their deaths for a war we cannot win, for land we have no ties to. You ask me to devastate their families on the principle of doing what you deem right.”

I couldn’t stop myself from straightening to my full height. And couldn’t stop the sharpness in my tone as I demanded, “And you don’t deem it right that we should help the humans protect their lands and ability to self-govern?”

Pity washed through his eyes. “I think the humans of the continent are a people we know little about; who are well aware of what is marching their way, and yet have not asked for aid.”

“What does that mean?”

Tarquin again contemplated his lovely, vibrant city. “The humans have certainly heard of the war we waged here against Hybern two years ago. To defend the humans in this land, to stop Hybern’s spread beyond it. The humans on the continent know Prythian to be sympathetic, and willing to die for their sake. Yet no emissaries have come to ask for our assistance against this invasion. Why?”

That is a very good question, Rhys said into my mind.

How are you listening to me and talking to Cresseida at the same time?

I’m the most talented, delightful, charming High Lord to ever exist, remember?

I gave him a filthy gesture across the bridge between our minds. Night-kissed laughter floated my way.

I tried again with Tarquin, my mate’s teasing bolstering my spirits. “Believe me, I have every reason not to go to war, not to face this, to sit in Prythian with my son and hide from the world, comfortable in my luxuries. But how could I face Nyx when he’s older and say, We’d done enough already and it was someone else’s turn?”

From the corner of my eye, I caught Cresseida turning from Rhys to stalk our way, her coral-pink dress flowing behind her. She cut in before Tarquin could answer, “If this conflict is as dire as you suspect, then I will be glad to avoid it and live long enough to have my future children ask me those difficult questions.” Tempests capable of shattering rock lay in her eyes.

Tarquin didn’t contradict her. Didn’t nod, but didn’t argue, either.

I shook my head, unable to help my disgust, but Rhys said calmly, utterly unruffled as he trailed after Cresseida, “In order to attain allies of our own beyond Prythian—allies that might make Rask, Montesere, and Vallahan back down—we need a united Prythian first. A Prythian that, at least to our enemies and would-be allies, appears united in one goal, and ready to march together.”

“And if we unite,” Tarquin said, leaning back against the stone railing of the balcony with a casualness that belied his words, “only for these enemies to call our bluff and march south anyway, will we follow through and lead our people to the slaughterhouse to save some far-off land, to rescue humans who loathe us?” The wind buffeted his blue robes into a living wave around him. “This would be a very different war from the conflict with Hybern, my friend. And very different from the war five centuries ago.”

I knew that phrase—my friend—would go right to Rhys’s heart.

My mate said nothing. His face revealed nothing, either.

Tarquin continued, the sunlight bouncing off his white hair in a near-halo, “During that war, at least, the humans on the continent were used to our kind. They could tolerate us, even saw some of us as allies and family. Now they’ve had more than five hundred years to forget about us. To hate us. Their willingness to accept and trust our help might be hard to come by.”

Rhys slid his hands into his pockets. “I suspect that when the hordes of Rask, Vallahan, and Montesere are laying siege to their walled cities, they’ll happily accept any help they can get.”

Tarquin said nothing.

I couldn’t quite believe it. That my brave, honorable, good friend—for that was what Tarquin had always been—was speaking these words.

Had Amren known? Was it why she had pushed for Fomoria instead of this? Angry as I might be with her, I didn’t think she would have withheld that information. Had Varian known and kept it from her—had he avoided being here today so he could deny it? Amren being Amren, she’d have sensed something amiss, but she wouldn’t have had proof of their intentions.

“What do we owe these strangers?” Cresseida demanded of my mate, utterly unfazed by the dark, foreboding figure he cut. “The humans of Prythian, those who dwelled in our shadow and suffered for it, they are our neighbors, and we owed it to them to fight for their safety and freedom against Hybern. But the humans on the continent are across an ocean. And even if we did go, the entirety of Prythian’s armies couldn’t take on all three territories’ forces. And who is to say these so-called allies you seek beyond our borders would even join us in that battle? Would we still march into war even without them, just to prove our honor?” The princess gave Rhys, then me a disdainful glance. “We would die in order to feel morally superior.”

I glared right back at her. Might have flashed my teeth a bit.

Silence fell, taut and resentful.

They aren’t wrong, Rhys said mind to mind. I can understand their reasoning, even if I don’t agree with it. I didn’t answer.