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Azriel refrained from arguing that no discussion was needed. It was Elain’s life, her body. It was hers to decide who she shared it with.

“I’m done talking to you,” Lucien shot back, chest heaving. “I’m done with all of you. You want someone to help you find proof of Koschei’s schemes? Want a spy in the Autumn Court? Go do it yourselves. I’m done.” The Veritas orb appeared in his hands—and then thudded to the floor.

His heart is breaking, his soul is cleaving—

Az shut out his shadows. He didn’t give a shit about Lucien’s feelings.

“Lucien,” Feyre pleaded. “Listen.”

Lucien again jabbed an accusing finger at Azriel. Every muscle in Az’s body tensed, wings tightening, readying to spring. But Lucien’s words were eerily steady as he said, “I hope you get everything that’s coming to you. Every moment of suffering you deserve.”

Az gave him a mocking bow of the head.

Lucien turned toward the doorway, toward Elain, still crying on the bed with Nesta. “I won’t be darkening your doorstep again.”

“I don’t think she’s shedding tears over that,” Az couldn’t refrain from saying.

Lucien slowly turned. And Az knew Rhys could have stopped it—and yet his brother let it happen. Lucien exploded with flame.

Az had all of a second to cast a shield of blue light from his Siphon, easily taking the brunt of the fire, but Lucien had launched himself in that second, too. Faster than Az had anticipated.

Lucien tackled him into the wall with a slam that shuddered through the entire house. Plaster and wood cracked beneath his wings, his back.

Az’s shadows advised, Feyre vanished to guard the baby; Lucien means to kill you; Rhys is debating letting him—

Only a second lapsed before Azriel’s training kicked in. He slammed an elbow into Lucien’s face, so hard bone crunched. Blood sprayed, its tang coating the air, and Az ducked as another wall of flame blasted for his head.

Darkness snuffed out the flame.

Arms stronger than steel banded around Azriel’s bare middle, hauling him back. Az surged, but Cassian held firm, fuming in Az’s ear, “You dumb fuck.”

Az thrashed to no avail. Rhys was talking to Lucien on the other side of the wall of black. Flame licked at the ceiling.

And then it vanished. Only darkness remained.

Lucien is gone, his shadows supplied. Rhys now turns toward you, speaks to you and you alone—

“Get out of my house.”

Cassian loosened his grip on Az in shock.

Rhys’s voice became like thunder from behind that wall of darkness. Once the wall fell, it wouldn’t be his brother standing behind it.

A small female hand gripped his, tugging hard. Mor. Her eyes were wide with pleading. “You need to go. Right now.”

Az did no such thing. Let Rhys wipe him from existence, let his brother turn him into stardust splattered on the wall.

“Azriel,” Mor begged, and that was genuine fear in her face. Elain was still crying in her room. He started turning to her—

“Stupid bastard,” Mor spat, and before Az could stop her, she winnowed them both out of the house. Or rather, to the front door, where she dragged him, step by step, beyond the wards on the lawn.

Lucien’s smell lingered, ashes on the wind. He’d come this way, too.

But Mor grabbed Az by the back of the neck and hissed, “Idiot,” before she winnowed them again.

They plunged into black, roaring wind, but they didn’t go far, landing atop one of the city’s elegant bridges spanning the Sidra. At this hour, few people were on the streets to witness them standing there, Mor in her silken red nightgown, Az shirtless, pants barely buttoned.

She slapped him. The sound rang out across the city like pealing bells.