A Court of Dreams and Promise

Chapter Forty-Three

Azriel

Azriel surveyed the tent, filled with some of the most powerful fae in Prythian. All commanded the space in their own right. He was surprised at the sheer amount of fae who somehow fit in Helion's tent. Somehow, in all of their differences, everyone was eerily quiet, purely quiet as they waited for someone to start talking.

Azriel's eyes naturally began to wander around the space, taking the time to survey every single fae he had interacted with since that terrible, terrible night of Calanmai.

The Winter Court stood on Helion's left, icy and fierce. Kallias stood slightly in front of Viviane, a pale hand circling her wrist to keep her behind him. Roland clutched Sylvie's shoulders, steadying her as she took deep breaths. Iona was standing strong, the slight quiver in her bottom lip the only sign of emotion in her strong stance.

Next to the Winter Court royals stood Cresseida, anxiously biting a hangnail, with Amren on her side. Ezio absentmindedly rubbed Cresseida's shoulder. Ciel stood tall, stretching out his wings (which had healed properly with Feyre and Velaria's help) and then tucking them behind him once again.

The fiery Autumn Court males were scarily tense, but their passion shone bright. As he was with Rhysand and Cassian, the Autumn Court brothers seemed ready to fight tooth and claw to get their brother back, a sentiment Azriel certainly didn't feel about Eris, but could understand considering he knew how strong the familial bond could be.

Azriel was shoulder to shoulder with Cormac Vanserra, constantly shifting his wings to make sure they didn't bump into the Autumn Court prince.

Emerie was next to him, fiercely hugging Mor, whose normally bright golden hair seemed somehow dimmer, despite the fire burning in her alight brown eyes. Velaria, who only had eyes for Helion at the moment, had a hand on Mor's shoulder. Her hair was pressed back into a tight ponytail, and Azriel's gaze lingered on his mate longer than it had on anyone else.

Feyre was stoic, holding Nyx as he slept. They had been practically inseparable since his return.

And the Day Court was made of Lucien, Elain, and Marigold standing close together, the perfect portrait of a happy family ready to fight for their happiness.

Helion cleared his throat. "Shall we get started and go over the plan?"

Nods rippled through the tent.

Helion's gaze was serious. "We've – referring to Feyre and I – officially divided the plan into three sections. Lucien, Elain, and Cresseida are distracting the High Lords once we get there so no one sees Azriel, Feyre, Kallias, Velaria, or me and gets confused as to why there are two Thesans sneaking around," he explained, stern and to the point. "I will be Tarquin, Kallias will be Thesan, Feyre will be Eris, and Velaria will change herself and Azriel into Rhysand and Cassian, respectively."

"The third section is Marigold and the Spring Court sentries," Feyre said, tattooed arms folded across her chest. "The sentries will claim they found Marigold, bringing her to Tamlin, who we assume will interrogate her."

"And if he doesn't?" Cresseida asked, eyes narrowed.

"I will improvise," Marigold said. "'Accidentally' spill a fake secret Tamlin will want to hear."

"We will do the same if anything goes wrong," Velaria said. her voice was clear and steady, her shoulders squared. "We will improvise, and Tamlin will not catch us unaware again."

"Any more questions?" Helion asked, gaze darting around the tent.

"What do we do once we have the stone?" Kallias asked quietly.