Chapter Text
Without saying a word, Azriel picked up the whiskey bottle and poured them both a drink. In a rare moment of agreement, they both downed their drinks like two fae who had just finished a hard day's work. Azriel kept his glass in his hand and slowly traced the rim with his index finger, not taking his eyes off Eris.
“Even if things didn't turn out quite as Rhion had originally planned,” Eris finally summed up after a few moments of silence, “he still benefited from the events on many levels and harmed many of his opponents and rivals. And he did it all in such a way that hardly any fae could expose him as the manipulator behind the events.”
Eris raised his hand again, his many rings sparkling in the fae light. He began to list the advantages Rhion had gained through his intrigue, extending one of his elegant fingers for each one.
“First, Keir's ambitions were permanently thwarted and he was disgraced by Morrigan in Hewn City. Second, his powerful daughter was finally removed from his and Beron's sphere of influence. Morrigan did not come to the Autumn Court as a bride and broodmare, and Keir could not remarry her after everything that had happened. Instead, third, she was allied with Rhysand and thus also with Rhion. Fourth, Rhion's rival, Beron, was discredited by insulting me as heir. However, Rhion's response ensured that I did not lose face to such an extent that Beron would have started a war with the Night Court. Within the Autumn Court, the incidents did not harm Beron. In terms of foreign policy, however, Beron and I are still seen as ruthless monsters, even today, more than five centuries later! That did not help us form alliances with other courts back then, and it does not help us today. Fifth, my chances of marriage were effectively reduced. For decades, all the ladies at balls gave me, the extremely cruel and heartless prince, a wide berth.”
He looked down at his hand pensively for a moment, then shrugged and continued: “Well, you learn from the best. It's a pity I'm not a daemati. Imagine what I could achieve with all the possibilities a daemati has...”
Eris smiled with a hint of malice and lowered his hand. “But at least Rhion, without knowing it, did me a favor and spared me a marriage. To have a wife or child at this court...” Eris shuddered.
“If that's how it all happened, why haven't you revealed the whole truth until now?” Azriel asked, his tone as if he were talking to a friend in a bar about his life.
“Oh, I thought about it very thoroughly!” Eris replied. “But by the time I had figured everything out for myself and pieced the story together, all of Prythian was in turmoil because of the human rebellions. If I had told Beron what had really happened, he would have started a war with the Night Court. Someone messing with his heir's mind was a disgrace Beron would never have tolerated. The family's reputation and his own pride have always been central anchors of his actions.”
Azriel nodded. Beron's pride had become proverbial in Prythian. Moreover, in Prythian, even ill-advised seating arrangements had already led to wars.
“It was clear to me that a war against the Autumn Court would have made the Autumn Court extremely vulnerable to the Spring Court. Hybern and the Spring Court had already positioned their legions. Ultimately, I would have risked a war on two fronts and many Autumn Fae would have died. I didn't want to endanger their lives, not even for the sake of my own reputation. I have always put the welfare of the Autumn Court before my own.”
At first, Azriel frowned. A moment later, however, his face smoothed out as if the gesture had been an instinctive, automatic reaction after centuries of mistrust and prejudice fueled by hatred. Azriel finally nodded.
“Or, another option,” Eris added. “Beron would have allied himself with Hybern and the Spring Court for his war against the Autumn Court. But contrary to what you might think, Shadowsinger, I loathe the enslavement of humans. I definitely didn’t want the Autumn Court to fight on the side of the Loyalists. So I kept quiet.”
“But the war is long over...” Azriel objected.
Eris rolled his eyes. “Except that not long after the war, the villain in my story was murdered. I couldn't prove anything for sure unless I wanted to have my head look inside again. I preferred not to.” He poured himself some more whiskey and took another sip.
As if the alcohol had loosened his tongue, he added, “And well... maybe the years during the war also made me realize that Rhion had actually given me certain advantages, and that the truth would be more detrimental to me? As I said, I can do without a wife. And the reputation Rhion has given me...”
Eris licked his upper lip with relish. “Cruelty and heartlessness are hard work. Shouldn’t you know that better than anyone, torturer of the Night Court? But if you already have a certain reputation…” He laughed softly. “Then you can use it without actually being cruel.”
Eris mimicked an imaginary person: “He left his own beautiful betrothed to slowly and painfully bleed to death... with nails in her stomach! What will he do to me?”
His eyes flashed. “These fears have given me countless opportunities without me having to lift a finger... a glance or a threat is enough.” He grinned diabolically.
Azriel looked thoughtfully at his glass. With a steady hand, as if he were performing the movement deliberately, he put the glass back down. He paused for a moment, his gaze still fixed on the glass. When he looked up and met Eris's gaze, his posture straightened.
“Vanserra, your story may sound plausible, and you have certainly given me some new insights. Because of our bargain, I believe you when you say that Rhion manipulated your mind. But ...!”
Azriel leaned forward, narrowed his eyes, and whispered into Eris’s bejeweled ear: “Your story also contains an extreme number of claims, conjectures, and assumptions. You believe them to be true, but whether they really are remains to be seen. And I will find out which parts are right and which are wrong.”
Eris shrugged. “You wanted to hear my honest version of the story. You got it.”
Azriel looked Eris up and down once more, then started to walk toward the cave exit. But before he reached it, he turned around.
“One more question. You said it was one of the few things in your life you regretted. And that it had cost you something. What did it cost you?”
Eris, who had remained standing and was watching the spymaster, pressed his lips together into a thin line. He hesitated for a moment. “That part of the story is not part of our deal.” He pulled his doublet tighter around his neck, as if he had suddenly felt a chill.
With great bitterness in his voice, he said, “Not that you could probably understand. But fine, here goes: I lost the last few years with my aunt, who refused to speak to me after I willingly left Morrigan behind. By the time I finally found out the truth, the war that was brewing had already separated us for most of the time, and we couldn't get back together like we used to. And then...”
Eris’s voice faltered. Everyone knew what had happened to his aunts in the war.
In a hoarse, quiet voice, he added, “You got your answers, Azriel. Now you're bound by your part of the bargain.” Before winnowing back to his home, he called out to Azriel, “So enjoy your favorite pastime: brooding in silence.”