Dance of Fate

Chapter Seventy

For two hours, the High lords and their companions conversed. Well, argued, mostly. With Tamlin there, none would declare what numbers they had, what weapons, what weaknesses.

During that time, Azriel had refused to look at Asteria. He could sense her eyes on him, pleading silently. But he had kept her shut out from his mind. Even if she could break through his mental shields if she wished- and not just because they were mates. 

Despite the apparent absence of Asteria's power, it was now evident that she had been choosing not to show it, after what she'd done to Eris. Before, and since then, not a glimmer of it had appeared. Not even when she'd told off the High Lords, or when she'd growled at Beron. 

Azriel supposed she didn't need to show off her power. Even though he hadn't been Under the Mountain, he knew enough to know that none of them had forgotten that Asteria's power was superior to all of theirs. It was why none of them doubted her after she said she could nullify the Cauldron. 

Azriel pushed down the agony he felt as he realized she refused to use her power out of guilt. He'd seen that guilt written on her face while she'd spoken to Tarquin, and then again when Tamlin had brought up what she'd done for Amarantha. It destroyed him to see that guilt- and it terrified him. 

It was why he couldn't look at her. He'd been able to ignore it for the past few days, with how relieved he'd been that she was alive, how happy he'd been that she was back. But he didn't think he could pretend anymore. And after what she'd just done- betrayal again stung him. Impossibly worse than before. 

He knew she saw it too- that thing between them, building up like an overdue storm. Threatening to destroy them.

"You are all welcome to stay the night and resume this discussion in the morning—unless you wish to return to your own homes for the evening." Thesan announced at last.

Rhysand silently told him they would stay. As would the other High Lords. 

Tamlin was escorted away first, by Thesan himself and a trembling attendant. Then Tarquin was led out, then Helion. Until only Kallias's party and their own party remained. 

Rhys rose from his seat and dragged a hand through his hair. "That went well. Asteria, it seems you've won the bet." Azriel knew Rhys was just as enraged at his sister as he himself was. But at least he seemed to be willing to pretend all was well for now.

Azriel let his gaze slip to the floor, ignoring the look Asteria gave him. He locked out the image of her face after he'd attacked Tamlin.

"Sorry." He said. The word was emotionless—distant.

"He had it coming," Viviane said. "So did Eris." She added with a wink at Asteria. "He's a piece of shit." Kallias turned to his mate with high brows. "What?" She put a hand on her chest. "He is."

"Be that as it may," Kallias said with cool humor, "the question remains about whether Beron will fight with us."

"If all the others are allying," Mor said hoarsely, her first words in hours, "Beron will join. He's too smart to risk siding with Hybern and losing. And I'm sure if things go badly, he'll easily switch over."

Rhys nodded, but faced Kallias. "How many troops do you have?"

"Not enough. Amarantha did her job well." Azriel could feel the guilt radiating off of Asteria, even if he'd locked her out.

"We've got the army that Viv commanded and hid, but not much else. You?"

"We have sizable forces. Mostly Illyrian legions. And a few thousand Darkbringers. But we'll need every soldier who can march."