Elain only rose to her feet. “He doesn’t know you,” she said to me. Then she faced Nesta with a frank, bemused look. “And he hates you.”

Some rotten part of me wondered if their broken engagement was for the best, then. Or if Elain had somehow suggested this visit, right after Lucien had left Prythian, for some chance to … I didn’t let myself finish the thought.

I said, watching the space where my friends had vanished from the town house, “I need you to understand, Elain, that if this goes badly … if he tries to harm you, or any of us …”

“I know. You will defend your own.”

“I will defend you.”

The vacancy fogged over her eyes. But Elain lifted her chin. “No matter what, don’t kill him. Please.”

“We’ll try—”

“Swear it.” I’d never heard that tone from her. Ever.

“I can’t make that promise.” I wouldn’t back down, not on this. “But I will do everything in my power to avoid it.”

Elain seemed to realize it, too. She peered down at herself, at the simple blue gown she wore. “I need to dress.”

“I’ll help you,” Nesta offered.

But Elain shook her head. “Nuala and Cerridwen will help me.”

Then she was gone—shoulders a little squarer.

Nesta’s throat bobbed. I murmured, “It wasn’t your fault—that the wall came down before we could stop it.”

Steel-filled eyes cut to me. “If I had stayed to practice—”

“Then you just would have been here while you waited for us to return from the meeting.”

Nesta smoothed a hand down her dark dress. “What do I do now?”

A purpose, I realized. Assigning her the task of finding a way to repair the holes in the wall … it had given my sister what perhaps our human lives had never granted her: a bearing.

“You come with us—to Graysen’s estate, and then travel with the army. If you’re connected with the Cauldron, then we’ll need you close. Need you to tell us if it’s being wielded again.”

Not quite a mission, but Nesta nodded all the same.

Right as Cassian clapped Rhys on the shoulder and prowled toward us. He paused a foot away, and frowned. “Dresses aren’t good for flying, ladies.”

Nesta didn’t reply.

He lifted a brow. “No barking and biting today?”

But Nesta didn’t rise to meet him, her face still drained and sallow. “I’ve never worn pants,” was all she said.

I could have sworn concern flashed across Cassian’s features. But he brushed it aside and drawled, “I have no doubt you’d start a riot if you did.”

No reaction. Had the Cauldron—

Cassian stepped in Nesta’s path when she tried to walk past him. Put a tan, callused hand on her forehead. She shook off the touch, but he gripped her wrist, forcing her to meet his stare. “Any one of those human pricks makes a move to hurt you,” he breathed, “and you kill them.”

He wouldn’t be coming—no, he’d be mustering the full might of the Illyrian legions. Azriel would be joining us, though.

Cassian pressed one of his knives into Nesta’s hand. “Ash can kill you now,” he said with lethal quiet as she stared down at the blade. “A scratch can make you queasy enough to be vulnerable. Remember where the exits are in every room, every fence and courtyard—mark them when you go in, and mark how many men are around you. Mark where Rhys and the others are. Don’t forget that you’re stronger and faster. Aim for the soft parts,” he added, folding her fingers around the hilt. “And if someone gets you into a hold …” My sister said nothing as Cassian showed her the sensitive areas on a man. Not just the groin, but the inside of the foot, pinching the thigh, using her elbow like a weapon. When he finished, he stepped back, his hazel eyes churning with some emotion I couldn’t place.

Nesta surveyed the fine dagger in her hand. Then lifted her head to look at him.

“I told you to come to training,” Cassian said with a cocky grin, and strode off.

I studied Nesta, the dagger, her quiet, still face.

“Don’t even start,” she warned me, and headed for the stairs.

I found Amren in her apartment, cursing at the Book.

“We’re leaving within the hour,” I said. “Do you have everything you need here?”

“Yes.” Amren lifted her head, those uptilted silver eyes swirling with ire. Not at me, I realized with no small relief. At the fact that Hybern had beaten us to the wall. Beaten her.

That wasn’t my problem.

Not as the words of that meeting with the High Lords eddied. Not as I again saw Beron walk out, no soldiers or help promised. Not as I heard Rhys and Cassian discussing how few soldiers the others possessed compared to Hybern’s forces.

The king’s taunt to Rhys had been roiling through my mind for days now.

Hybern expected him to give everything—everything—to stop them. Had claimed only that would give us a fighting shot. And I knew my mate. Perhaps better than I knew myself. I knew Rhys would spend all of himself, destroy himself, if it meant a chance at winning. At survival.

The other High Lords … I couldn’t afford to risk counting on them. Helion, strong as he was, wouldn’t even step in to save his own lover. Tarquin, perhaps. But the others … I didn’t know them. Didn’t have time to. And I would not gamble their tentative allegiance. I would not gamble Rhys.

“What do you want?” Amren snapped when I remained staring at her.

“There is a creature beneath the library. Do you know it?”

Amren shut the Book. “Its name is Bryaxis.”

“What is it.”

“You do not want to know, girl.”

I shoved back the arm of my ebony dress, the finery so at odds with the loft, its messiness. “I made a bargain with it.” I showed her the band of tattoo around my forearm. “So I suppose I do.”

Amren stood, brushing dust off her gray pants. “I heard about that. Foolish girl.”

“I had no choice. And now we are bound to each other.”

“And what of it?”

“I want to ask it for another bargain. I need you to examine the wards holding it down there—and to explain things.” I didn’t bother to look pleasant. Or desperate. Or grateful. I didn’t bother to wipe the cold, hard mask from my face as I added, “You’re coming with me. Right now.”