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Beron moved to the Lady of Autumn's seat, resting a hand on her shoulder. The same arm that now bore a bright scar. She did not so much as flinch, but her hand tightened around Eris's wrist.
"You have injured my wife, viciously attacked my heir, and made an attempt on my life. These are acts of war, little girl. Perhaps your mate should have done better filling you with knowledge of politics and common sense rather than vile seed!"
"Beron!"
"I have spoken my piece!" he snarled in answer to Thesan's snap. Beron turned back to the Night Court and pointed his finger.
"Too long have we endured the arrogance of this insolent half-breed. Well. No longer." Beron spat out the words, "This meeting was the last straw in a bale of thousands. As High Lord of Autumn, I declare war on Night."
The ripple was instantaneous.
"Father, are you certain of this?" Eris murmured.
But Beron did not answer his son. His gaze was fixed on Rhys's frozen face. The male recovered quickly, a sneer forming on his lips.
"What matter is it of mine whether you wage war on us or not? We both know your forces are nothing in comparison to Night's."
Beron's face turned thunderous, and he opened his mouth to reply when a voice cut through, sharp and clear.
"Spring will stand with you, Lord Beron."
Rhys barked out a laugh, relaxing "Oh? With what army?"
Tamlin merely smiled, unsheathing those deadly claws and letting them gleam in the steady candle light.
"I don't need one. I killed one High Lord of Night before. I can do it again."