A Court of Rage and Fire

Chapter 12

Lucien did not bother to hide his groan as he opened the front door of the manor to find not an unexpected visit from Elain, but from his eldest brother.

"Eris." Lucien leaned against the threshold, blocking the doorway.

"It's lovely to see you too, brother. Appreciate the warm welcome. Are you going to invite me in? It's rather chilly," Eris said, thinly veiling the sarcasm beneath a courtier's graceful tone.

Lucien pulled back against the doorway, just enough for his slimmer, taller brother to slip through, followed by two dark smokehounds. "You've never been cold a day in your life."

"I didn't mean the weather," Eris said lightly, leading the way to the parlor and making himself comfortable in the golden chair by the fire. The two hounds immediately sprawled in front of the mantle near their master's side.

"Who are the pups?" Lucien asked, stooping to pet them.

"Storm and Shadow. They're...Soup is their sire."

Lucien smiled sadly to think of his own hounds. He didn't regret anything about leaving the Autumn Court, fratricide included, except for not being able to bring his smokehounds with him to the Spring Court.

"Where are your friends? Are they well?"

"They're out." Lucien was intentionally vague, not wanting any word of unrest in the human lands to reach Beron, through Eris's tendency to feed their father careful half-truths or otherwise. "What do you want? Did you find your men?"

"Yes." Eris's face was utterly neutral, but even after spending centuries separated, Lucien knew well his brother's love of listening to himself talk, and all that Eris's rare reticence could hide.

"I'm sorry. Truly."

"You didn't do it." Eris changed the subject. "I need you for a few days."

"With what? Wedding planning? An escape route for when Cassian comes to rip your head from your body?"

"Don't you have any tea to offer me or anything? I've been in the wilderness for a week," Eris said, crossing an ankle over his knee.

"I can tell." Not because Eris was disheveled in any way—not an auburn hair out of place, not a wrinkle nor stain on his clothes—but because Eris was dressed far too simply and practically for a short visit. He wore not his usual embellished jewel tones, but plain browns and whites, though still clearly well-made with fine fabric. The sort of vanity only a Vanserra could display despite hard travel and sleeping outside.

Eris tutted indignantly at the remark, taking clear offense to the jab at his appearance. Lucien sighed, and brought a tray of tea and biscuits, as well as bowls of water for the hounds.

"I need your help drawing Tamlin out. I've been roaming the gardens around his manor for days, but I think he's avoiding me. I'm running out of time. Aren't you supposed to be there, anyway? Last I spoke to Rhysand, you were." Eris said, as he daintily picked at a biscuit.

"I am, but he's been...difficult since he found out about Feyre's pregnancy. I check in, but it's no place for anyone in their right mind to live full time. His presence is..." he trailed off, setting his jaw grimly as he considered why Eris would want anything to do with Tamlin. "I'm not helping you do Beron's bidding."

Eris pinched the bridge of his nose and was quiet a moment before he looked up to meet Lucien's gaze. "I'm trying to prevent civil war. Beron is planning to invade the Spring Court regardless of what I tell him, and Tamlin can either be prepared or not."

"Just kill him." Lucien's voice was low, almost petulant, barely audible to a Fae from across the room.

Eris's pale mask was unreadable. "Would you?"