I winnowed directly from the townhouse in Velaris after dropping Feyre off. I hadn’t even said goodbye to her.

Azriel was waiting.

And so was Cassian, who greeted me deep below the mountains of the Hewn City. So far down in dingy cells and chambers, the only sound heard for miles were the screams Azriel elicited every so often from the Attor under Truth-Teller’s sharp blade.

Feyre could wait. She’d remained icy all through breakfast - and so be it. Right now, this took precedence.

“Anything?”

Cassian picked up the pace beside me as we met in the hall and walked to the prison room. It wasn’t a bar cell like the one Feyre had stayed in, but it gave me a shudder of remembrance all the same. I hadn’t been down here in... a while.

“Fifteen minutes before he told us a task force sent from Hybern had infiltrated our northernmost border,” Cassian informed me, his face a hard line. Still wet drops of silvery blood speckled the gauntlets over his leathers. “ Five minutes before he admitted to closing in on Illyrian territory with a few other choice beasts.”

Only five minutes.

Damn .

“Azriel’s in quite the mood,” Cass finished as we reached the door. A whimper sounded behind the wood panel.

“Lucky for us, a mood is just what the occasion calls for.”

Cassian’s grin was razor sharp.

---

“It’s done,” I said when I landed in the townhouse living room. Feyre sat on the couch, her feet curled under her as she read. But as soon as she saw me, she was up in flash, eyes all over me. Whatever that meant.

“We learned what we needed to. It’s up to you, Feyre, to decide how much of our methods you want to know about. What you can handle.” Feyre took a deep breath, brow drawn. “What we did to the Attor wasn’t pretty.”

“I want to know everything,” she said, no hesitation even if it was plain she understood the severity of the situation. “Take me there.”

She stepped forward, ready to take off.

“The Attor isn’t in Velaris,” I said. “He was in the Hewn City, in the Court of Nightmares - where it took Azriel less than an hour to break him.” Feyre didn’t so much as flinch. Hard as nails, Cassian would have said. I stepped forward - just one step, giving her the space to change her mind if she wanted. But she held fast. “I’ll show you,” I offered.

And... Feyre closed her eyes.

She watched the memory with perfect ease. Her face only slightly pinched when mention of Tamlin came up, but given the fresh information there it wasn’t surprising.

I showed her the Attor, bruised and bloody on the table. Showed the details he’d let slip both before I arrived and after, including that Hybern had found a way of tracking Feyre’s movements; we just didn’t know how yet. And even went so far as to let her listen to the wails as I exited and Truth-Teller dragged along the veins of the Attor’s wings.

It wasn’t pretty.

But it was effective.

I loosened my hold on Feyre’s mind and watched her as she came out of it, looking for a hint of distress or horror or revulsion for what we’d done. But there was nothing except a glint of rage that earlier this morning had been directed at my chest in the form of talons digging through my leathers against the snow.

“What situation with the Spring Court?” she said, staggering back to regain her balance.

“None. As of right now,” I swiftly assured her. And there wasn’t. Everything Azriel had said about the silence of Spring was true. It was only... “But you know how far Tamlin can be driven to... protect what he thinks is his.”

And because Feyre had yet to recover her shields since vacating the premises of my own mind, I saw it: a flash of red paint bruising the elegant paneling of Tamlin’s study and the havoc that had ensued.

Feyre had been forced to block herself that day, the magic driving out of her in ways only her panic and desperation could create. She’d been all alone. Though I’d witnessed enough of it to know.

“I should have sent Mor that day,” I said, not quite able to meet Feyre’s eyes.

She read my shame and stalked toward the stairs. Perhaps she’d had enough mistakes from me for one day to have to add another to the stack.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said. The casual sweater she’d changed into sagged over her shoulders. I could still see a bit of bone sticking out at her shoulder.

“Feyre,” I said, reaching... stretching for anything to get her back. She dismissed my call.

Done .

“I am sorry - about deceiving you earlier.”

She paused, but didn’t turn around as she stared at the bottom step of the stairs. I didn’t know what that meant. Maybe she was deciding if she could ever forgive me.

And then she sighed.

“I need to write a letter.”

---

I left of my own free will.

I am cared for and safe. I am grateful for all that you did for me, all that you gave.

Please don’t come looking for me. I’m not coming back.

I read the letter three times before I willed it into the mist to find Azriel. He’d find a way to make sure it found its master regardless of borders and wards.

Tamlin would never believe Feyre had written the letter herself. It was likely he’d be in need of another newly decorated study before he’d even finished reading it, and the bill would likely come addressed to the High Lord of the Night Court - the stupid ass.

But when Feyre had pushed the paper so carefully into my hands, her eyes were grey and rested surer on her face, her shoulders back and straight.

She said she felt cared for and safe .

A lie to please Tamlin as best she could, or... the truth?

“Are you sure?” I asked her once I’d sent the letter off.

Feyre tilted her chin up determined, and did not blink once. “I am no one’s pet,” she said. This time, it was her own words coming out of her mouth. Not mine.

Beautiful. Wonderful. Resilient Feyre.

“What next?” she asked.

“For what it’s worth, I did actually want to give you a day to rest-”

“Don’t coddle me.” Her lip curled.

“I’m not,” I said, knowing I was skating on thin ice as it was. “And I’d hardly call our encounter this morning rest . But you will forgive me if I make assessments on your current physical condition.”

Feyre cocked her head at me, indignant. “I’ll be the person who decides that. What about the Book of Breathings?”

“Once Azriel returns from dealing with the Attor, he’s to put his other skill set to use and infiltrate the mortal queens’ courts to learn where they’re keeping it - and what their plans might be. And as for the half in Prythian... We’ll go to the Summer Court within a few days, if my request to visit is approved. High Lords visiting other courts makes everyone jumpy. We’ll deal with the Book then.”

Feyre would likely leave it there for the night. I waited for her eyes to spit at me that it was true, my punishment from here until Tarquin permitted us entry to his kingdom for offending her. The only question that remained was how long she’d last until there was trust again.

I was just about to step out so she could leave the study and do as she willed with herself when she held my gaze with the force of the sun and finally, that gaze softened into something like the forgiveness I didn’t anticipate she’d extend me so soon.

“You told me that this city was better seen at night,” she said. I inclined my head just slightly, puzzling over the fresh cut to her voice. “Are you all talk, or will you ever bother to show me?”

How I did not stumble over myself and fall at her knees was miracle.

Her skin seemed to glow and her eyes sparkled like diamonds, and I could see the spirit breathing - suddenly living - behind them. It felt like a new chapter. A clean start. And one she was asking me to be a part of somehow.

I looked over her body from the tip of that curt, admonishing chin down to the bare toes that wiggled along the floor, and all the many, many landscapes in between. She did not back down from me once.

A sensational thrill went through me.

She’s okay. Feyre would be... okay here.

It made me smile. It made me laugh. The first true and genuine expression of how I felt about her allowed to bear witness. Feyre did not share the expression, but she was... spicy, a bite of hot cinnamon on the tip of my tongue, ready to abandon her seclusion and step out to see the world - with me .

“Dinner,” I said without question. I wanted her. I wanted us. “Tonight.” Feyre’s eyes gave that little spark again and it was all I could do not to lean right into her and crash my waves against her own. “Let’s find out if you , Feyre darling, are all talk - or if you’ll allow a Lord of Night to take you out on the town.”

---

Cassian’s howl rattled through the entire house. I stifled a groan. “I just can’t believe you played the High Lord card to get a date out of her,” Cassian said in between fits of laughter.

“Will you stop-” I started to say before Azriel cut me off. Feyre was upstairs getting ready to leave with us. Amren and Mor hadn’t arrived yet. In this tight a space, Feyre might hear anything.

“If we wish to be accurate,” Azriel said, “technically Feyre asked Rhys out.”

The hand covering my mouth struck out flat in Az’s direction. “See,” I told Cassian. He rolled his eyes and fell backwards onto the couch, flipping off Azriel as he did so.

“Whatever, that line is still cheesy as hell, Rhys.”

“I don’t see you doing any better,” I ground out.

He moved his thick arms to rest behind his head, a cocky look in the set of his jaw. I half-expected him to kiss his biceps. “I don’t need to.”

Azriel snorted. “Yes, because staring at Nesta’s tits all through dinner counts.”

“I did not!” Cassian flew out of his seat, his stance ready to attack. Azriel looked him over and might have stifled a laugh.

The shadowsinger held his chin up a little higher, confident of his assessment.

“Three times at dinner and five at breakfast,” Azriel said. “I know. I counted.”

“You little piece of shadow shit-” Cassian was barking as he swiped at Az, who dodged easily and chuckled. I stepped between them before they could put a dent in a coffee table I was particularly fond of. “I should have known,” Cassian said, straightening up and glaring at Azriel. “You’re never quite so relaxed as when you get to take the piss out of someone - even if it is filth like the Attor.”

“ Especially if it’s filth like the Attor.” Azriel shrugged. A tiny wisp of darkness whispered at his ear. The shadowsinger smiled. “What can I say? It’s a good day.”

“Hello hello!” Mor’s voice carried like a songbird as she stepped through the door, her dress aflutter at her knees. Cassian’s head rolled back with a groan. “Lovely,” Mor said, giving him a look.

“Morrigan,” I said, nodding toward her.

“Feyre upstairs?”

“Mhm, though she won’t be for long if these dogs don’t stop barking around my living room with their tails out.”

Mor snorted. “I’m disappointed you haven’t realized the company you keep by now, cousin.”

I cleaned a spot on my jacket, brushing some piece of hair or dust away. “That company includes you, you know.”

“Yeah, but at least I’m nice to look at,” she said with her most winning smile. “And damn powerful too.” And then she jerked in the direction of Cassian, who’d fallen back over on the couch. “Unlike some people.”

“Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is Mor and prove it for a change,” Cassian grumbled, his face buried in the pillows.

The ensuing conversation Feyre walked in on was regrettable at best. A real pissing contest. The chatter had brought her downstairs to check on the status of things, and then promptly sent her right back up.

I didn’t blame her.

Cass and Mor went at it for a long stretch of time until Amren arrived, going round and round in circles over who could fly or winnow farther. Azriel stayed near the window listening, but the few times I caught him looking at his closest friends squabbling on the couch and remembered where the shadows had gone when the door had first opened...

I knew where he’d bet his money in this fight.

“I’m ready,” Feyre said quietly, her voice standing just behind me. A deep scent of grass and pine that had followed her from the Mortal Realms hit me as I turned and saw her bundled up in her thick, blue overcoat that brought out the skies in her eyes.

I smiled, and bowed my head.

And so our first night began.