The Flames in the Horizon

1

The meeting of the High Lords was of great significance, the future of Prythian rested on the success of this meeting, and yet Azriel's family seemed under-alarmed. Everything was utterly underwhelming. He did not fit in. The blinding beauty of the Dawn court contrasted violently against the darkness that surrounded the shadowsinger. The forever rose-tinted sky fought with the blackness of Azriel's shadows. It was unnerving walking through Thesan's palace of gold for there were no dark corners he could slink away to. He was exposed and vulnerable.

His High Lord and Lady put together this diplomatic meeting in hopes of discussing court relations and trades following the destruction left by Hybern. The war was long and bloody, but they came out on top and Azriel couldn't possibly thank the Mother enough for the safety of his family and court.

Though Azriel shared in their optimism, he remained skeptical of the outcome of this 'get together'. Based on the bets his family laid down earlier, they too, subconsciously, thought this meeting would be a waste of time. Tamlin hadn't responded to the invite sent to him, and for that Azriel was grateful. He wasn't sure he could sit through a meeting with both the Spring High Lord and Autumn's entourage.

Beron had brought his wife, the Lady of Autumn, and four sons, Eris, and his three brothers. The sons of Beron, exempt from Eris, were quick to show their idiocy, snarling and sneering at the gathered High Lords and their attendants. Eris, a step behind his father, silenced his younger brothers with a quiet, "Enough." Beron either did not care or notice the sway his oldest son held over the others, instead, he stood at the end of the table scowling at everyone. Rhysand spoke first.

"It's no surprise that you're tardy, given that your own sons were too slow to catch my mate. I suppose it runs in the family." Rhys goaded the Autumn High Lord in greeting.

Azriel frowned, of course not outwardly, he would never reveal such emotion in a room full of potential enemies. This meeting was brought together on the basis of making alliances, and yet his brother insults Autumn upon first allowance.

Beron's lip curls slightly as he assesses Feyre. "Mate—and High Lady." Disdain drips from his voice.

Azriel's gaze moves to the eldest son of Autumn. Eris smiles, amused and aloof. Then his attention shifts to Mor. Azriel stiffens alongside Cassian from where they stand behind their High Lord and Lady. Dawn attendants show the Autumn court to their seats and only when they are seated does Thesan speak.

"Rhysand, you have called this meeting. Now would be the time to explain what is so urgent."

Rhysand blinked—slowly. His response was lost on Azriel as a shadow curled around his ear to whisper about a late arrival. Moments later, the doors of the room opened to reveal Tamlin in all his gruesome glory. As he strolled into the room, Azriel took a subtle step closer to his seated High Lady at the loathing in Tamlin's eyes. Tamlin did not remove his gaze from Rhysand and Feyre as he sat between a son of Autumn and a Day court attendant.

Helion waved a hand. "Let's get on with it, then."

Tamlin opened his mouth. "It would seem congratulations are in order." The words were flat and yet there was a vicious sharpness to them.

Azriel was wholly aware of the rage that rolled off his brother but Rhysand remained composed as he addressed Thesan. "We can discuss the matter at hand later."

"Don't stop on my account," Tamlin said calmly.

Again, that darkness reared its head in the High Lord of Night. It invited the shadowsinger's own darkness to play with his. Azriel had to fight to keep his shadows at his side. "I'm not in the business of discussing our plans with enemies," Rhysand replied cooly.