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What the fuck are you doing? Rhys snarled into Az’s head.

But Lucien met Az’s stare, his metal eye clicking. “Why do you ask?”

It was time. “An envoy arrived from Hybern the other day with a message about Hybern wanting to meet with us regarding an alliance.”

Someone’s fork clattered onto their plate.

“Repeat that,” Feyre gasped. Her face was so white that her freckles stood out against her skin. But Rhys demanded, “You were going to tell us this when, exactly?”

“Tomorrow,” Az said, meeting his brother’s stare and daring him to deliver a reprimand. “I didn’t want to ruin today for you, but it’s too late for that. Bryaxis got there first.”

“On whose behalf did the messenger speak?” Cassian asked, hazel eyes already churning with calculation, wine now forgotten beside him.

“It didn’t say. Just that Hybern had sent it.” Az wasn’t above nodding toward Lucien again. “So I thought it might be helpful to know who you contacted before the war with them.”

This is beneath you, Rhys shot into his mind. You really need to make this male look bad in front of his mate in order to feel better about yourself?

Az blocked out his brother’s words. Kept his expression mild, curious as he waited for Lucien’s answer.

“We dealt with the king himself,” Lucien said at last, voice a bit strained. “Tamlin knew him vaguely from his own father’s alliance with Hybern during the Sundering War, so all it took was a message to initiate contact.” The color on Lucien’s cheeks darkened and spread.

Az pushed, “And then where did you meet? How did you communicate?”

Azriel. Drop it. Crackling power laced every word. Az ignored that, too.

Lucien cast his gaze around the table, settling finally on Elain. She was still staring at her plate, hopefully remembering once again that her own mate had brought about so much of her suffering. But Lucien said, with a steadiness that Az begrudgingly admired, “I can walk you through all of it, if you want. But perhaps after dinner.” A gesture toward Feyre, whose face was still achingly wan. “We were given orders to banter, after all.”

Down the table, Cassian was rubbing his jaw. He asked Rhys, apparently no longer inclined to obey his High Lady’s request, “You think those assholes actually want an alliance?”

After the war, from what Azriel had gathered, a small group of lords had come together to rule Hybern—at least until a new king could be enthroned. He’d reported to the others that this group now operated out of the king’s old castle, and though none of them had claimed the title yet, it seemed a young male had been making headway. Not that the people of Hybern had benefitted. Az had gleaned that Hybern had suffered a few bad harvests—and a distinct snubbing by other countries for trade. The country had seen better days, and deserved it.

Feyre cut in, picking up her utensils, “We’ll talk about it tomorrow morning.” Along with a report of what had occurred at the Summer Court, no doubt.

Az had a feeling it hadn’t been good, given that neither Feyre nor Rhys had talked about it yet.

But now Feyre gave Az a glare that had him suppressing a wince of shame. “I’m not inclined to trust them.”

Nesta grunted her agreement. Mor and Rhys had locked eyes, having some mind-to-mind conversation, Az suspected. They didn’t include him.

Az stayed quiet after that, not trusting himself to say another word. Not daring. He glanced across the table to Elain. She’d barely moved an inch, her food still untouched.

As if sensing him, her lashes stirred, lifting slightly. Those doe’s eyes met his. His skin tightened over his bones. She was so beautiful—so perfect and pure and as lovely as a spring dawn. Her high, delicate breasts lifted as she sucked in a breath—

Rhys’s ire landed on Az like a brand.

Az immediately cast his attention to his own plate, even as his fingers clenched his wineglass.

Rhys had no fucking right to tell him not to look at Elain. Just as Lucien had no fucking right to be her mate, to her affections, or so much as a blink of attention from her. Az waited for the mental tongue-lashing from his High Lord, but none came.

Food was consumed, drinks swallowed down, and the candles burned low.

And though Feyre had insisted on tomorrow morning, talk again returned to Hybern. They were all adamant that Hybern could get fucked. There would be no response to their request. Not even a simple no. If Hybern needed allies, they had dug their own grave. It was time to wallow in it.

Az peeked at Elain once more before the meal was over.

Her gaze was already on him. And even with her mate sitting mere feet away, he didn’t miss the way her tongue darted out over her lower lip.

Didn’t miss the longing, the desire that heated her brown eyes to a molten chocolate.