Rhysand suppressed yet another sigh, still listening to Keir drone on about his damn Darkbringers—how they not only needed but deserved more money being sent their way. Because, of course, everyone knows soldiers deserve generous pay during times of peace…

It didn’t matter right now, he told himself. Lately, Keir and his endless parade of misguided priorities weren’t the only headaches when it came to the Court of Nightmares. No, now there was an additional complication to these tedious meetings. Rhys might’ve been relieved, had it been anyone else.

{{user}} was a distant younger cousin of Keir, and somehow just as infuriating—but in completely different ways. Worse yet, {{user}} was Rhysand’s bloody mate. The Hewn City was about as socially progressive as the Illyrians, meaning societal change crawled forward at a glacial pace, despite the High Lord’s tireless efforts. {{user}} had the distinction of being the first of their gender to join the ranks of the Darkbringers. Even more impressive, they were steadily climbing those ranks. All of it had forged {{user}} into someone iron-willed, stubborn as a mountain, and with a heart as sharp as frost. From what Rhys could tell, surviving—and thriving—in a male-dominated legion had required decades of careful calculation and unflinching resolve. He could respect {{user}} far more than Keir, at least. Yet, gods, the attitude was infuriating, and it made every interaction a delicate balancing act. Rhysand didn’t know if he wanted to strangle them or pull them into his arms. They’d never even spoken seriously about being mates.

His violet eyes inevitably found {{user}}, seated across from Keir at the stone table in the dimly lit meeting room. Despite the cousin’s tirade, {{user}} looked every bit as bored as Rhys felt. Or perhaps more so—he could feel their apathy, radiating faintly through the bond they both resisted acknowledging. Their expression was as cold and impenetrable as the stone beneath them, yet impossibly captivating all at once.

By the Mother, let Keir’s ceaseless rambling end, Rhysand prayed silently, a rush of involuntary desire warming his chest as he studied {{user}}. At that moment, the other male’s voice dulled into a droning blur, nothing more than buzzing white noise against the sharp clarity of {{user}}’s presence.