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To say that Eris was terrified would be an understatement.
He’d received a notice at breakfast that he was to meet with Beron by midday. His father had never been one to schedule last minute meetings, especially with Eris. That was unless Eris had done something to upset his father. These days Beron could find absolutely anything to be mad at Eris about, anything to blame him for, then pin any and all anger on his eldest son in the deepest pits below the Forest House.
To receive a summons so soon after one of Beron’s fits is what scared Eris most. There was only so much torture he could take anymore.
And yet, despite his fear and trepidation Eris put on his usual brave face and arrived at his father’s office at the precise moment he was expected.
Eris never spoke until his father did. A habit that had been beaten into him quite early in life. He stood in front of his father’s desk for a handful of minutes before finally being addressed.
“You’ve probably been wondering why I’ve summoned you here,” he started; Eris was smart enough to not respond. “You see my boy, some new information has come to light regarding you, do you have any idea what that might be?”
A million different thoughts ran through Eris’ mind. Beron could be referring to Eris’ alliance with the Night Court, his plans to take Beron off the throne. It could be the small acts of treason he’s committed over the years in the name of helping his people have a better life. Could it be that he’s learned that Eris played an integral part in keeping Lucien alive all these years, going back as far as when his youngest brother was born.
Or maybe, just maybe, even with all the precautions he’s taken to ensure this would never be discovered by his father, maybe Beron had learned of Eris true relationship with the Night Court’s Shadowsinger. The secret bond he’d shoved down for 500 years until that fateful day at Kochie’s hands, when the Shadowsinger finally learned just why Eris had kept him at arms length for so long. And yet despite all that, Azriel still wanted to be a part of his life (at least once they had a long, long, long , chat about everything that had happened over the years).
If Beron had learned of that secret, then everything Eris had worked so long to protect would be destroyed.
Instead of giving a true answer, Eris responded with “Please Father, do enlighten me as to what sparked you requiring my audience.”
Beron grimaced at Eris’ tone, and Eris internally winced. He didn’t mean for it to come out like that, but he was freaking out in his mind, worried that his and his mate’s lives might be at risk now.
“You might find it interesting that I’ve learned some information regarding the Shadowsinger of Night.”
Eris began praying to every major deity he could think of, anything that might protect his mate once he was killed.
“You see, it’s been reported that the bat has been lingering around Autumn, specifically you.”
Every muscle in Eris screamed at him to run, to find Azriel and flee the continent far, far away from where Beron’s eyes might ever see him.
“Sources even claim that the Shadowsinger is your mate.”
Eris stood still, hoping that there was still some way he’d be able to protect Azriel before it was all too late. Before Beron had both of them imprisoned and killed.
Benon reached for a file on the side of his desk, flipping it open to the first page and retrieving the quill closest to him.
With a sigh, Beron finally spoke, “What color flowers do you want for the wedding?”
What?
Before his mind could keep up with his mouth, Eris was speaking, “I beg your pardon?”
“Are you deaf? I asked what flowers you want? Isn’t that something you pixies care about?”
This was all too much for Eris to even begin to process. Eris had seen Beron tear others apart for even a rumor of them having a same-sex lover. If so much as a whisper ever went through the court Beron would order an execution. Eris expected an even worse punishment than that for there being evidence from a spy of Autumn that he had a male lover.
And yet, now he was being asked what flowers he’d want for the wedding? None of this made any sense.
“Father, may I ask you a question first,” Beron made a motion for him to continue, “Are you saying that you want me to marry the Night Court’s Shadowsinger?”
“Obviously,” Beron said as if it were a ridiculous question to ask. “Things fell through with Morrigan and that Archeron sister, but neither were as high of a position as the Shadowsinger. If you marry him, then Rhysand will lose one of his most powerful assets. Then Autumn will once again be the most feared court in Prythian.”
And suddenly everything started making sense. At least as much sense as this situation could possibly make.
If his mate had been any other male, then Eris would have arrived at his Father’s office and seen their head placed on a spike.
But his mate was Azriel. Azriel, one of the most powerful Illyrians- fae -of this age, wielding seven coveted siphons. Not only that, he was one of the most rare creatures to grace Prythian. A Shadowsinger. Such rare gifts, that of course Beron would want for himself. Even if it meant allowing his eldest son to marry the Shadowsinger so that his loyalties would no longer be confined to the Night Court, but rather the Autumn Court.
Trying to summon the same confidence that he’d entered the room with, Eris braced himself for whatever conversation would soon follow.
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It was hours later when Beron finally dismissed Eris and he could finally take a trip to Night. He needed to tell Azriel everything that had happened with his Father today. He wasn’t even sure where to begin when he got there. How did one go around telling their mate that their insane father, who up until now would have killed his eldest if he’d known his mate was a male, now suddenly demands that his son marry that mate publicly in front of the entire court.
None of it seemed to be making sense.
Even by the time Eris reached the Night Court, arriving just in time to join his mate and allies for dinner at Feyre and Rhysand’s estate, Eris didn’t feel like he’d made sense of his afternoon meeting with Beron.
Azriel noticed something was off with him. He’d tapped against the mating bond inquiring if Eris wanted to talk right now. He didn’t, maybe after dinner when they’d break out Rhys’ good wine, then he’d be ready to explain. He could tell Azriel wanted to know more, but he was willing to let it go for now once Eris persuaded his mate with a few kisses.
Dinner passed uneventfully and once everyone was settled in the living room, each person with their own drinks, Eris finally spilled everything that had happened with Beron. When he mentioned Beron’s questioning of floral arrangements, Nesta broke out in an absolute cackle. Feyre too was giggling.
Azriel had frozen beside him. “Are you sure Beron hasn’t been replaced?”
“My thoughts exactly. He’d seemed too open-minded about the whole thing, but then every other decision he’d find some way to insult you or just couples like us in general.”
“So what did you do?”
“I apparently started planning our fucking wedding. Beron’s going to get what he wants here. After his other attempts to marry me off, he’s not going to let it happen a third time,” Eris answered.
“Actually, we could make this work in our favor,” Rhysand finally chimed in.
“How so?” Azriel asked.
“Well, it would be an event where countless faces from the Autumn Court and others would appear, so it might actually be one of the best places to finally enact Eris’ plan of taking the court.”
Trust Rhysand to read between the lines and find a silver lining in all this absurdity.
But as Eris thought about it, the more he grew to like the idea. “You might be onto something Rhys.”
Azriel sighed beside him, “Clearly you two are going to be meddling into the early hours of the morning, I’ll make some tea.”
Eris didn’t quite hear everything, already enraptured in his conversation with Rhysand, plotting just how and when he’d kill his father during his wedding. Nesta too got onboard, joining in adding her own ideas on how to make the greatest spectacle out of this unforeseen change in plans.