A Court of Rage and Fire

Chapter 21

Lucien Vanserra had spent centuries as Tamlin's emissary before being appointed as Rhysand's, and yet he had never, in all his years traveling the courts of Prythian and the Continent, ever felt so disrespected.

Except for maybe that time Amarantha had torn out his eye.

This, however, felt personal. And unexpected—considering the Day Court was supposed to be the Night Court's staunchest ally, and Lucien had requested the meeting on behalf of its High Lord. Sort of.

When Lucien arrived in the Day Court, he was greeted not by Helion, but by a chorus of the High Lord's advisors, all draped in jewel-tone fabrics and swirls of golden jewelry, and several blue-and-silver-clad High Priestesses. He tried to ignore the latter, as their blue robes and circlets triggered memories of Ianthe. She was dead, he had to remind himself—dead and eaten by the Weaver, who had been eaten by the King of Hybern's naga-hounds, so she was definitely gone, hopefully rotting somewhere in a pile of naga-hound shit. Her order was supposed to be investigating whatever corruption had produced Ianthe's ambition and bellicose desires. And Nesta's friend Gwyn, the young, lower-ranking priestess who had managed to shyly coax Elain into joining her on the lively dance floor at Nesta and Eris's wedding, hadn't reminded him of the forceful, relentless Ianthe at all.

He still couldn't look at these High Priestesses.

The advisors, at least, were polite enough as they informed him that Helion, along with his head librarians, were barricaded in a library with a firm request that they not be disturbed under any circumstances. The High Lord, they said, had been attending councils once per week to receive updates and deal with any matters of the Day Court that required his hand rather than an advisor's. He was next due to meet with them in three days, but in the meantime, Lucien was welcome to discuss matters with any of them or avail himself of the Day Court's decadent hospitality, including various nobles' and priestesses' offers to tour the pegasus tower, attend daytime revels, and even join their beds.

"Surely you can silently deliver a note with his food," Lucien beseeched them, ignoring these offers.

"We are under express direction to allow no distraction, save from the lips of another High Lord," was all they said. "If you return for the next council, you may attend."

"The High Lord of the Night Court would prefer not to risk travel because of his expecting mate. So unless you think Helion would rather deal with the wrath of a new father," Lucien growled the half-lie, praying to the Mother it would not come to involving Rhys, "tell him to meet with me."

They did not budge.

The secret of what Lucien sought was too dire to share with the advisors or even the available librarians—really, with anyone less than Helion himself. And though he could have wandered the public areas of the palace, he knew the Day Court would never shelve such a precious and dangerous book where anyone could walk in and take it.

Lucien's tasks weighed heavily on him, and every passing moment reminded him how little time was left. So he left the Day Court with a message requesting Helion to meet with him in three days, when he would next convene with his advisors.

Lucien then traveled to the house he had shared with Jurian and Vassa in the human lands. Still shared, he supposed, as they welcomed him no less warmly than if he were a lover returned from a quick errand. But it was different for him now. His heart had never really been in the human lands, as much as it had been a refuge for him in the long, aimless months after the War. But now, he had a purpose with the Night Court—with Elain. He hoped that Vassa and Jurian understood that.

He passed one day and one night there, arriving when the nocturnal couple were still abed so that he could silently root through drawers and sketch the familiar crystal-and-gold orb without Jurian's judgment or Vassa's penetrating questions. And though they had a pleasant-enough meal together at dusk, Jurian and Vassa did not rouse Lucien from where he fell asleep on the plush couch afterward, nor did they go out of their way to offer him their bed, with a flippant request from Jurian for a "ginger-bread sandwich," as he would have just weeks ago.