ACOWAR (Rhysand's POV)

Chapter 17

(Rhysand's POV)

My foot tapped on the plush carpet of the study as the sound of rustling papers filled the room. Across from me, Azriel sat, quiet and reserved, flipping through his reports—those meticulous notes he had taken during his conversation with Lucien.

"Much of the information he gave me was outdated." Azriel said without looking up, eyes roving over a paper in his left hand. "Though, not much has changed over the centuries."

I picked at a piece of lint on my sleeve, flicking it in the air as the spymaster continued.

"Beron is still... Beron. His brothers. . . We saw what they're capable of a few days ago. His mother, though—he was hesitant to reveal everything he knew about her."

"Do you think he's withholding that information for a reason?"

"Not likely. He spoke of her very fondly." Azriel set down the paper, replacing it with another, a hint of irritation in his voice. "He had no issues giving up his father's closest allies or the most conniving courtiers in their court."

"Anything new to us?"

"No. It's all things we already knew, but it is nice to have the confirmation." Despite the calmness in his voice, I could sense the simmering frustration beneath Azriel's composed exterior.

A low hum passed through my lips as I let the weight of Azriel's words settle. One of my favorite things about the spymaster was his comfort with silence - his need for conversation minimal. There was never an awkward pause; he was just as content to sit in stillness, never demanding a response or feeling the need to fill the space. He allowed the moment to breathe, letting emotions flow and granting everyone in the room the chance to think. It was during these quiet intervals that he expertly assessed a person's motives—while their mouths might be shut, their bodies spoke volumes.

"You trust him." Azriel's soft voice cut into my thoughts.

"Is there a reason I shouldn't?"

His lips pulled into a thin line as he considered it. "From what I could tell, he was eager to give over the information on his father and brothers. Not a hint of guilt. At least, not where his family is concerned."

I raised a brow, Azriel reading the confusion etched on my face.

"When I asked about the Spring Court—Tamlin—he tensed up. He has some unresolved feelings about it."

"Understandable." I crossed an ankle over my knee. "Do you trust him?"

Azriel fell silent again, weighing the question deeply. It was another quality I admired in him—his ability to consider each question at length before responding. It took longer than I had expected, different emotions washing over his face before he finally replied, "I think so."

"Fair enough." I blew out a breath as vibrations started down the bond once more—Cassian and Feyre had exited the Prison. "Thank you, Az." With that, I winnowed right from the chair.

"Well?" I asked, barely appearing fully on the rocky outcropping of the island.

Cassian hopped off the boulder, extending a hand to help Feyre down. "You're not going to like his asking price."

I sighed, holding out both hands to winnow us back to Velaris. "If he wants the fancy dinner plates, he can have them."

Cassian and Feyre each took a hand, their expressions serious—no laughter at my remark. A shiver ran down my spine at that. "You better bring your bargaining skills tonight," Cassian muttered before we vanished into shadow.