Nala and Azriel had been the first to touch down in Velaris, the two of them hadn't said a single word since he had stopped her from ripping her own hands to shreds. 

When they reached the townhouse Amren had been waiting for the two on the outdoor sofa collection by the fountain in the courtyard and Nala had immediately thrown herself down onto the silver-eyed female, faceplanting on Amren's lap. Azriel sat on the table in front of the two with the tiniest of smiles on his face as Amren ran her fingers through Nala's hair. 

Rhys came out to the courtyard third, and sat his ass on the rim of the fountain with his forearms braced on his knees as he stared at the moss-flecked flagstone between his feet. 

The other three of the inner circles sat around on the white-painted iron chairs as Nala made no effort to move and make space next to her on the couch. 

"If you're out here to brood, Rhys," Amren said as she ran her hand through Nala's golden hair. "Then just say so and let me go back to my work." The rest of the inner circle looked from the silver-eyed female to their High Lord, all of them trying to wrap their head around how different the female was acting now that Nala was a part of their lives.  Cassian had some suspicions about the relationship between the shadowsingers and their second-in-command. 

Rhys' Violet eyes lifted to stare at Amren. They were cold, and humorless, so much unlike the man Feyre had gotten to know. "The humans wish for proof of our good intentions. That we can be trusted." 

Amren's gaze cut to Feyre as she kept running her hand through Nala's hair. "Feyre were not enough?" Nala growled in her lap, blurring her face deeper and tightening her hold on Azriel's hand. 

"She is more than enough," Rhys said with his deadly calm tone, his eyes blazing with violet fire. "They're fools. Worse - frightened fools." The man turned to study the floor again as if the ground were the most interesting thing in the world.

"We could... depose them," Cassian said his voice light, just above a whisper. "Get newer, smarter queens on their thrones. Who might be willing to bargain." 

Nala smirked into Amren's lap and slightly turned her head to look at the male. "I second that motion." Her voice still held that dangerous darkness that warned everyone of her still foul mood. "I would love nothing more than to hear them scream as my fire runs along their skin." 

Feyre looked at her little sister in slight panic and worry. Nala had always been a bit unhinged, but since stepping into her fae heritage she had been even more ruthless and brass. Cassian on the other hand simply matched Nala's manic smirk and leaned forward in his seat. Most likely to start planning the queen's murder. 

Rhys shook his head though, stopping the terror twins from planning further. "One, it'd take too long. We don't have that kind of time." Nala turned her face to her High Lord with a pout. You ruin all my fun. She thought at him, knowing his daemati power would pick up on it. "Two," Rhys continued, rolling his eyes at Nala, "who knows of that would somehow impact the magic of their half of the Book. It must be given freely. The magic may be strong enough to see our scheming." He sucked on his teeth. "We are stuck with them." 

Nala nodded before getting up from Amren's lap to sit at the woman's side and Azriel moved to sit beside her instead of the table. 

"We could try again," Mor said, her face turned away from the trio as Azriel placed his hand behind the two females, his shadows dancing from Nala to Amren. "Let me speak to them, let me go to their palace-" 

"No-" Azriel said. Mor raised her brows, and Azriel's back straightened. "You are not stepping foot in that human realm." 

"I fought in the War; you will do well to remember-" 

"No," This time it was Nala who spoke. Both her and Azriel's wings shifted behind them and Amren squeezed Nala's thigh. "They would string you up and make an example of you." 

"They'd have to catch me first." Mor snapped at Nala, making the entire inner circle tense. No one had ever commented on the hostility that lay between the two females. And it would seem that it just might bubble over on this very fine light. Feyre shifted uncomfortably in her seat. 

"That palace is a death trap for our kind," Nala snapped back, her voice dark and deadly with enough bite to make those around her flinch. "Built by Fae hand to protect the humans from us. You set foot inside it, Mor, and you won't walk out again. Why do you think we've had duck trouble getting a foothold in there?" 

"You are not one of us, halfling!" Mor snarled and the people around them gasped. Azriel and Amren growled in the back of their throat as they stared at the blonde. Nala's fury was so violent that it only made their own more uncontrollable. "Stop talking like you have any say here. You are only kept around because you somehow have made your way into Azriel and Amren's beds." 

Nala snarled at the blonde, showing off her fangs as she leaned forward in her spot, the flames of her Autumn heritage on full display in her eyes. "You think you are so high and mighty, princess?" The flames built in her hands. "While I might just be a halfling, I'm still more powerful than you will ever be. You know, seeing as I'm not the one terrified of leaving Velaris in fear of dear old dad. Am I now?" Nala's smile was that of a nightmare and Feyre knew her sister had hit the head on the nail when Mor gasped and looked away from the flames in Nala's eyes. 

"If going into their territory isn't an option," Feyre cut in, trying to stop the two females from ripping each other to shreds, "and deceit or mental manipulation might make the magic wreck the Book... What proof can be offered?" Rhys lifted his head at her voice but Feyre wasn't done with her thought. "Who is-who is Miryam? Who was she to Jurian, and who was that prince you spoke of - Drakon? Perhaps we... perhaps they could be used as proof. If only to vouch for you." 

Nala looked away from her sister. Amren had told her a bit about Miryam and Drakon, just enough to make Nala realize how dangerous her halfling status was. 

The heat died from Mor's eyes as she shifted a foot against the moss and flagstone.

But Rhys interlocked his fingers in the space between his knees before he said, "Five hundred years ago, in the years leading up to the War, there was a Fae kingdom in the southern part of the continent. It was a realm of sand surrounding a lush river delta. The Black Land. There was no crueler place to be born a human—for no humans were born free. They were all of them slaves, forced to build great temples and palaces for the High Fae who ruled. There was no escape; no chance of having their freedom purchased. And the queen of the Black Land ... " Memory stirred in his face. 

"She made Amarantha seem as sweet as Elain," Mor explained with soft venom.

"Miryam," Rhys continued, "was a half-Fae female born of a human mother, much like Nala, but Miryam's mother was a slave, as the conception was ... against her mother's will, so, too, was Miryam born in shackles, and deemed human—denied any rights to her Fae heritage."

"Tell the full story another time," Amren cut in. "The gist of it, girl," she said to Feyre, "is that Miryam was given as a wedding gift by the queen to her betrothed, a foreign Fae prince named Drakon. He was horrified, and let Miryam escape. Fearing the queen's wrath, she fled through the desert, across the sea, into more desert ... and was found by Jurian. She fell in with his rebel armies, became his lover, and was a healer amongst the warriors. Until a devastating battle found her tending to Jurian's new Fae allies— including Prince Drakon. Turns out, Miryam had opened his eyes to the monster he planned to wed. He'd broken the engagement, allied his armies with the humans, and had been looking for the beautiful slave girl for three years. Jurian had no idea that his new ally coveted his lover. He was too focused on winning the War, on destroying Amarantha in the North. As his obsession took over, he was blind to witnessing Miryam and Drakon falling in love behind his back."

"It wasn't behind his back," Mor snapped. "Miryam ended it with Jurian before she ever laid a finger on Drakon."

Amren shrugged. "Long story short, girl, when Jurian was slaughtered by Amarantha, and during the long centuries after, she told him what had happened to his lover. That she'd betrayed him for a Fae male. Everyone believed Miryam and Drakon perished while liberating her people from the Black Land at the end of the War—even Amarantha."

"And they didn't," Feyre said. Rhys and Mor nodded. "It was all a way to escape, wasn't it? To start over somewhere else, with both their peoples?" 

Another set of nods. "So why not show the queens that? You started to tell them—"

"Because," Rhys cut in, "in addition to it not proving a thing about my character, which seemed to be their biggest gripe, it would be a grave betrayal of our friends. Their only wish was to remain hidden—to live in peace with their people. They fought and bled and suffered enough for it. I will not bring them into this conflict."

"Drakon's aerial army," Cassian mused, "was as good as ours. We might need to call upon him by the end."

Rhys merely shook his head. Conversation over. And perhaps he was right: revealing Drakon and Miryam's peaceful existence explained nothing about his own intentions. About his own merits and character.

"So, what do we offer them instead?" Feyre asked. "What do we show them?"

Rhys's face was bleak. "We show them Velaris." 

"What?" Mor barked. But Amren shushed her. Even Nala looked at the High Lord in shock. Velaris is the Night Court's best-kept secret. 

"You can't mean to bring them here," Ferye said her jaw almost hitting the floor.

"Of course not. The risks are too great, entertaining them for even a night would likely result in bloodshed." Rhys said. "So, I plan to merely show them."

"They'll dismiss it as mind tricks," Azriel countered.

"No," Rhys said, getting to his feet. "I mean to show them—playing by their own rules."

Amren clicked her nails against each other. "What do you mean, High Lord?"

But Rhys only said to Mor, "Send word to your father. We're going to pay him and my other court a visit."

Feyre's blood iced over. Nala's blood sang in anticipation. The Court of Nightmares.