Emerie squeals happily as Balthazar lands on her balcony with a thud, placing her back on her feet, his wings ruffling and stretching behind him as he does.

"That was so much fun. And the food there was amazing, thanks for taking me."

"Anything for you, starshine."

She blushes softly and goes into her top-floor loft, trying to stretch her wings, but a small, painful grunt escapes her lips. The muscles have been freezing up lately, causing her a lot of neck and back pain. It's been holding her back at training and everyone has noticed but were too polite to say anything.

"Em?" He looks at her concernedly.

"I'm fine", she whispers, passing her vanity and glancing into the mirror. All those horrid words come back to her along with the faux feeling of her father kicking her—wanting her dead like her mother. The image of him grabbing a heavy mirror encased in gold, only to bring it down onto her head and her back, fogs up her brain and she can nearly see her own mirror fracture, the shards exploding towards her face. She yells out and throws her arms over her face to protect it, waiting for the sharp cuts...but none come. Only soft, coxing words from her mate.

"Emerie...Em, it's not real. It's not real. You're okay. I'm here." Then he's behind her, his arms carefully yet protectively wrapped around her body like a weighted blanket, warming her, soothing her. "It's alright", he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck. "He's gone, he can't hurt you. I'd never let anyone hurt you."

Like a dam that has been breached, all of her stress overcomes her and she can feel herself spiraling, her legs giving out as he holds her up, sobs ripping from her lungs. She's done everything right—everything. Her life is amazing, close to perfect even, and yet one fucking trigger...one sole horrid memory and everything crashes down around her within seconds.

Balthazar scoops her up and lies her on her bed, lying next to her and pulling her into his chest, letting her cry as he fondly strokes tear-dampened hair from her face.

"Why do you even want me?", she chokes out. "I'm shattered."

He shakes his head. "Shattered things can be pieced back together. I will take every broken shard of you and make a beautiful mosaic in the shape of my heart. Because that's you, Emmie. My incredibly strong and lovely mate, my very heart. And the only one that I'll ever love, from now until my final breath."

She sobs harder and wraps her arms around his neck, pressing closer into his warmth. "He'll never let me be happy."

Balthazar cups her cheek and tips her face up to look at him. "You don't need permission, Em."

"He haunts me, I can't get rid of him."

He leans in and nuzzles her nose, his thumb tracing her lower lip. "You can fight him. You're a fighter, a Valkyrie. Take your power back. Isn't that what it's all about? He can never, ever hurt you again. He's dead, Em. Dead. You just need to figure out how to bury him in your mind."

"It's not that easy."

"I know, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound like it is." He strokes a tear from her cheek tenderly. "You're so strong, Emerie. I love you."

She looks up at him, brown eyes gleaming. "I love you, too", she whispers. "Sometimes that scares me."

Balthazar pulls her closer and presses a kiss to her forehead, before leaning his on it. "You have no reason to fear loving me. I promise I won't ever let you down. I am yours, and you are mine. Forever, my love."

She sniffles and takes his hand, intertwining their fingers. "It seems so surreal sometimes. That I have a mate, that it's you, the male who the Mother put in my path in the most unexpected way. And how amazing you are...after everything in my life I needed this, needed you." She strokes his chest and looks up at his boyishly handsome face. "There were days I didn't think I would survive...and then Nesta and Gwyn happened. They made everything worth it again, they made life worth it. I love my shop, and it was mine to protect, but Bellius..."

"Your rotten cousin?", he mumbles.

"Mhm. He would come by periodically to intimidate me, scream at me...I was on edge all the time and my back pain was near intolerable some days because of it. I was always terrified he would come when there was nobody around." Emerie takes a shaking breath. "I'm glad they're all dead. That sounds—well, terrible, but..."

"No, so am I. You didn't deserve any of what happened to you. None of it. I just wish I could have been there back then to protect you", he says comfortingly, twirling a finger around her braid absently. "To protect you and your mother. Illyria isn't right. It has never been right", he sighs in annoyance. "I got so lucky to have a father who cherished his bond and adored my mother. A father that treated her with respect and allowed her to soar through the skies with him no matter what words any of the other males spat at him for it. I got lucky enough to be raised correctly, where so many Illyrian children grow up to be like Bellius because of this despicable mentality that females are lesser. It needs to change, but nobody knows how."

Emerie leans up and kisses him lovingly, snaking her fingers into his dark, wavy hair. "If anyone could change Illyria, it would be you. You said it yourself, you enjoy politics, Bal."

He lets out a breath. "Well, yeah, but...do you really think all those old generational males would listen to me? I don't."

"Well, they won't unless you try. But you would need to speak to the High Lord. Maybe enact some sort of reform council. I know they would hate it, and they would rage against it, but we have to start somewhere."

"We?"

"You", she corrects.

"No, I-I like 'we'. It would be nice having you by my side if anything comes of it. You were defiled by the system put in place to keep you low. It's only fitting that you end up rising above them all." He kisses along her jaw and her eyes flutter.

"Mhh, maybe. If you don't leave my side. I'm still uneasy around too many people."

"I wouldn't leave you alone there for a single second, ever."

"Then...okay. If we can get a meeting with the High Lord and Lady and General. We can go from there."

Balthazar grins and hugs her closely. "Now, lay on your belly. I'm going to massage your back muscles and try to loosen the tightness around your wings. It might hurt at first, but it will help, I promise. It's a healer's tactic I learned after the war. Many Illyrians had pain from pushing themselves and their wings too far."

"At this point, I'd try anything", she says, shifting her weight onto her stomach, grunting a bit as her wings shift heavily onto her back, the tendons straining her muscles painfully. Tears prick her eyes.

"I'm so sorry, I know this is going to hurt for a few minutes, but then it'll be such a huge relief..."

"Just do it", she mumbles, taking a deep breath.

He nods and begins to massage between and around her wings, the heel of his palms smoothing out the knots as she breathes hard and tears fall. She squeezes her eyes closed and thinks back to the Blood Rite.

"Nothing can be worse than that, nothing. Breathe, Emerie. Just breathe. In…out…in…out…in…out..."

"Ohhh", she gasps, her eyes flying open, looking back at a smiling Balthazar as relief begins to flood her. "Ohh fuck, how are you doing that?"

He laughs and keeps going. "I told you, I made a healer show me how."

"Your hands are magic", she murmurs, her eyes drifting closed again before her cheeks pinken, realizing the double entendre of her words. "I-I just meant—"

"I know what you meant, starshine", he chuckles softly. "But hey, one day maybe you will mean it the other way too."

Her tan cheeks turn red as an apple as he looks back at him meekly. "Bal!"

"I'm just sayinggg. One day in the future."

She snorts and rolls her eyes. "Males", she quips.

Balthazar laughs airily and finishes the massage, pressing a kiss between her wings. "I love you, my sparkling starshine."

"Mhh, I love you too, Lion", she winks.

He turns red and smirks at her. "Always and forever."

"Always and forever."

.

.

.

The dank corridor was dripping with rusted moisture, jagged rock lining the tunnels as Elain inches her way down the path, the roar of crowds getting louder and louder as she goes. Hard breathing that is trying to be steady resounds beside her. Looking over, she sees her mate—Lucien. A sweaty sheen coats his body, and his beige tunic has blood stains all over the back of it. He staggers slightly and leans on the rocky wall, panting for air.

Lashed...this was a day or so after he was lashed. His wounds are not healed, in fact, they are still bleeding through his shirt. But he's trying—trying so hard to get there.

Lucien stumbled again, but catches himself on a rock, slicing his palm open. He hisses and drops to his knees with a thud, the glimmering bronze of the fox mask on his face looking molten in the heat.

Elain tears up and drops beside him. "Lucien?? Lucien, I'm here." Her hand reaches out to stroke dampened hair from his face, except she can't. Her ghostly hand passes right through him as if she were made of air, the only exception is the reddened glow around her form—if only for her to be able to see herself, even if he can't.

"F-Feyre", he mumbles, nearly incoherently.

Feyre. He was trying to get to Feyre. They were Under the Mountain.

Forcing his chin up, he grapples with the sharp edges of the cavern wall, hoisting himself up as a pained wince falls from his lips, the lash marks stretching and stinging with every movement, making his vision swim. It's nearing the evening and within hours the music and drums will start, and Feyre will once again be Rhysand's plaything—if she weren't already dead from infection. He needs to get to her. He needs to heal her. Not only was she his friend, but she's the only one who could ever get them out of this hellhole. And he can't let that hope die with her.

Elain can't hold back her gasp at the thought, seeing to be hearing everything her mate is thinking.

His breaths come in ragged heaves now, and his body fights to stay upright as the searing sting once again shoots across his back. With every movement, he allows more of the faebane to seep into his bloodstream like a slow poison. Not enough to kill, but enough to prevent fast healing, and enough to knock him out.

He falls another three to four times, the muddied ground infiltrating the bloodied slice on his hand as he grits his teeth together tightly, pain ripping through his entire body. This time Elain feels it and can't stop the scream that rips from her as she is flooded with his pain, as if living as his double.

How he could ever be so quiet while hurting that much is a fucking miracle to her. It subsides for the moment, and she continues to walk beside him toward wherever they are keeping her sister. Elain almost prays that she will get to see her. The state she was in, the conditions...if only for a better understanding of her sister's confidence and strength.

"I'm here, Lucien...you can do it. I'm here...", tears fill her eyes as she watches him continue to struggle, and then he falls yet again, just barely catching himself before his masked face hits the ground. His body begins to tremor as the overwhelming anguish overcomes his body, the faebane setting in. Elain's bloodcurdling scream fills her eardrums as it infiltrates her being as well, making her tremble. That's when a shot of fear reaches his heart—their heart—and for a split second, all is silent aside from heavy, approaching footsteps.

"I'm dead. The Attor will kill me. I'm dead. Please, Mother, make it quick." Lucien offers up a quick prayer in his mind that Elain hears as she begins to sob for him.

No. No, he can't be dying. She wouldn't get a chance to meet her mate. No!

That's when she watches his russet eye go hazy as he blacks out, his body sagging on its side on the dirty ground, merely another thirty paces to Feyre's cell. Terror strikes Elain's heart as she watches helplessly, her eye widened and blurry with tears.

Two of Amarantha's lackeys come across Lucien on the ground and laugh, spitting on him, before hauling him up roughly by his arms and dragging his body back to his own cell, tossing him face down on the too-hard mattress. Elain rushes over, but before she can touch him or soothe him, she can feel her essence being ripped away, floating further and further, as if being carried by a phantom wind until...

"Elain!"

A sharp gasp is pulled into her lungs as Elain shoots straight up in bed, her body covered in sweat and tears running down her face. Lucien is leaning over her, hands on her cheeks, his golden eye whirring in response to his distress. She quickly notices that he is also covered in sweat.

"Lucien", she breathes out, panting.

"I'm here...you were having a nightmare."

Elain blinks a few times to clear her vision. Vision—that's what it was. She was in his dreams again, the way she had been when witnessing him with Jesminda.

"No", she chokes out. "You were."

His face goes pale, and he swallows hard. "What?"

"I-I was there. I saw you, I saw what happened to you. I was seeing you. Like I am now, but...more. I could also feel what you felt, but only sometimes. And I could hear your thoughts. But then I-I saw what they did after you passed out too It was a vision but...I was also floating between realities somehow. I know the bond can pull me into your dreams because of my powers, but it seemed entangled with the vision of what happened to you, all at the same time. I was both feeling you as your double and seeing you as a witness...it was switching off."

Lucien pulls her into a tight embrace and nestles his nose into the side of her neck. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I don't mean to—"

"Shh, I know", she murmurs, stroking his ruby tresses. They are both still trembling slightly. "You never mentioned that part. How you tried to get to Feyre after you were lashed. You told me you were out cold for a few days. I only saw you passing out the first time."

He shudders and sighs. "There was nothing to tell. I woke up once, barely and I tried to get to her, because I knew...she was human, and that arm was going to be extremely infected. I needed to try to get to her to heal her again. Even if they truly killed me for it..."

"You were lashed because you helped her before. Lucien, it very well could've been a death sentence for you to help her again."

"I had to try", he says firmly. "Even though I failed. I had to try. She was our only hope, she was Prythian's only hope. Whether I was here for the liberation or not...people I care about would be. And if I could help even in the tiniest way for our freedom to come, I wasn't going to be a coward. I would die knowing that I had done everything in my power to help. I would die knowing I did my best. I was okay with that."

Elain weeps into his shoulder and holds him tightly. "I don't know what I ever did for the Cauldron to gift you to me. But the Cauldron took a liking to me, so it gave me the best mate in all of Prythian", she chokes out. "I couldn't be more grateful, and I was so foolish before. I'm sorry, Lucien. I know I said that before, but I'm so so sorry. You never deserved my cold shoulder. You were nothing but kind and respectful to me, and I can't believe that we are here right now."

Lucien takes a shuddering breath. "I...kept it. As a reminder to never get so cocky that I can't be humbled."

"Kept what?"

He swallows hard. "The mask. I took it off the ground before I winnowed away from Under the Mountain."

"Show me", she whispers.

"Elain..."

"Show me, Lucien. I need—I want to know. You're my mate. In good times and in bad times, they are mine to share with you now."

He nods weakly and waves his hand, orbs of faelight lighting up the room. Lucien motions to the trunk at the foot of their bed.

Elain climbs out of his embrace and crouches in front of it, undoing the latch of the emerald-velvet lined trunk, and shifting some things over to the side until her fingers brush a cool, glass case.

She sits on the carpet of their bedroom and places it in her lap, opening it tentatively, carefully, her eyes beholding what her sister had seen—and had equated to her mate as she got to know him back in the Spring Court.

"So...this is it?" Her fingers brush over the burnished copper of the thin metal of the mask, slightly rounded foxy ears on the top of it and all.

"Yes", Lucien blows out. "That-that would be it. I know it seems ridiculous to still be affected by the mere sight of it...", he trails off, becoming a bit sheepish.

Lucien was never sheepish. Elain looks over his pained features, then back down to the small case; to the fox-shaped metal mask that lay within the deep purple velvet of the glass box. She traces over its dings and worn edges, hardly able to comprehend fifty years cursed to wearing it, unable to see or feel parts of your face for so long.

Suddenly, a jolt moves through her at the contact, and her powers take over her body as she brushes over a particular spot, tossing her into another vision of the past.

Her mate is on his knees in the same dirty, dank cave, his back raw and drenched in blood as he receives lashings, involuntary screams ripping from his throat at the pain. An evil crone sits upon a ruby-studded throne and grins as if she enjoys devouring the energy of his pain. Every lashing has a pause, a hesitancy, the crone barking at the bearer, threats that should never be heard by anyone's ears. "Don't hold back my sweet Tamlin", she purred. "You're the strongest brute here, my delicious beast. Use all that strength."

When it's finally over, the evil queen stands and walks over, gripping Lucien by the edges of his mask. She yanks him to his feet harshly by his face, before viciously grinning at the scar peeking out of the bottom and down his cheek. Amarantha hisses. "You'll not forget me. Not a single day won't I haunt you. For you bear my scar, and every day you will realize what petty nothingness you are."

Then she releases the mask and pushes back on his face, hard, forcing him to fall backward on the bloodied mass of flesh that was once his back, his shrill and roughened scream echoing throughout the cavern.

Her vision gets sparkly, fizzing into blurred lights before evening out again, another time, in the same place. Elain recognizes Tamlin, catching a sword her mate had thrown to him, stabbing through Amarantha's body the way she had with Hybern. He then transforms into a partial beast, clamping his sharp canine teeth around the queen's throat and ripping it out, deep red blood spurting from the wound to cover his maw and soaking the dress beneath her collar.

As Amarantha takes her final breath, Elain witnesses Lucien reaching up with a trembling hand to remove the mask, allowing it to clatter to the ground like it was a leech, before rushing over to Feyre, now deceased as well, and the other High Lords, Tamlin dropping to sob over her body.

With a sharp gasp, she's suddenly back in their bedroom, panting hard, her entire body trembling once more as she looks down at the object in her hands, dropping it back onto the velvet as roughly as Lucien had allowed it to fall to the ground Under the Mountain, before quickly burying the box back in the trunk.

Tears rush down her face and Lucien tears up, lifting her from the ground and bringing her back to bed, pulling her close into his lap and stroking her hair.

He murmurs softly. "You want to know why I kept it, despite all the atrocities I've seen with it? It's not only for closure, but to remind me that our home is no longer cursed, that I am safe and alive, and never ever to underestimate anyone's anger or power. I keep it to humble myself when I get too cocky or when I need to remind myself how far I've come. How far we have all come."

Elain shakes and sobs, clinging to his shirt. "You were screaming. I-I've never even heard you yell i-in annoyance or anger or frustration, you hardly ever made a sound after the lashings, and you barely make a sound when something hurts you now, and-and you were screaming so much." Her lip trembles as she cries weakly.

Lucien swallows the lump in his throat and nuzzles her temple. "I'm alright now. I survived, Feyre survived, even Tamlin survived, and we are all in better places, Elain. We are still healing, but we are doing as well as we can."

She sniffles as he gently wipes her tears with his thumb. "Feyre told me that she made Tamlin lash you because you had helped her. Even knowing you'd go through that...you protected her. Thank you", she whispers shakily. "You are the kindest and most humble and most loyal male in Prythian, Luci. Your word is stronger than even your immense power. And I admire that so much about you."

He sniffs and strokes her cheek, placing a tender kiss on her lips. " I don't sell out people I care about. No matter the cost. Plus, it was all worth it to be here and now with you."

"Even at the cost of your life...I-I don't know if that is reckless or heroic. Maybe both", she whispers, remembering him fighting his Hybern chains to shield the sight of her body from the sniggering guards, knowing Hybern could've ended him for it.

Lucien looks into her eyes. "You're my mate. So yes, especially for you, at the cost of my life. Something I didn't get to put on the line for Jesminda's; something else that will always weigh on me and contribute to my morality. All the losses...I carry them with me. I remember them. I live and fight for them every single day. I realize that time is never guaranteed, and tomorrow is never promised no matter how immortal you are. I'm lucky though...even if I had to give my life tomorrow, I've lived years beyond others who should be here too. So I don't and can't take it for granted."

"I know you don't. You're...kind, and good, and perfect to me. But also...we should show Feyre what you did, what you tried to do. I think—I think it would help her to understand you better. To help you get past the crap that happened after. I think she would like to know how much you tried for her. To see it firsthand...I could show her now."

"After I healed, we had a conversation and she yelled at me for not coming to help her, but I did explain that I couldn't. I probably should've told her that I tried but—it didn't matter because I failed to get to her before Rhys did. I think after everything that's happened, it might just be water under the bridge, Elain. She's stubborn, you know that. And Rhys...", he blows out a breath. "It just seems that I can't win because I'm always stuck in the middle. I am the definition of neutrality. And I don't enjoy conflict. I had enough of it growing up and during the curse. I've learned to let things go."

"I want her to know, Lucien. I'll talk to her. I don't like knowing that you used to be good friends and now she hasn't been treating you well, if she even spares you a glance. It's not right."

"Whatever you'd like to do, Ellie. It's your sisterhood, and I won't get in the way of your decisions. I admire you sticking up for me though, even if it's not necessary."

Elain throws her arms around his neck. "Always. I love you, Lucien. I'll never ever take our bond for granted again either. I promise, and I'm sorry. I wish I could take some of your pain away from everything in the past."

Lucien shakes his head. "No...the pain is the one thing that is there to remind us of the fact that that we are not invincible, however long our lifespans may be and however powerful we think we are. Pain is a sign of love you once had. Pain stems from grief, and grief is simply love persevering when it is out of reach."

Elain nuzzles his neck. "I like when you get poetic. The things you say are always very true and very deep."

"Oh, I'm not a poet, love. But after five hundred years, you see things through a much clearer lens. Though, if you enjoy poetry, I should have Tamlin dust off his brain. He came up with some really great ones for Feyre back then that could make me belly laugh", he smirks. "That male couldn't flirt if his life depended on it. Again." He smirks, his golden eye humming lightly.

Elain chuckles softly as her body relaxes. "I don't think I ever want to see that mask again, but I didn't need the mask to tell me how much of a fox you are."

Lucien barks out a quiet laugh and she smiles.

"I'm not as poetic as you but I tried."

"It was adorable."

She gives him a cute pout.

"Okay, it was funny and flattering."

"Better", she smirks.

Elain shifts behind him and traces her fingertips over his lashing scars and then kisses them. "I don't care how many scars you have, you're the most gorgeous male, Lucien. They are only a sign that you fucking survived. Through every single fucking bit of that vile and grievous time. You survived, and I got the privilege of getting to know you and love you."

Lucien turns and wraps her up in his arms again. "It's hardly like you to curse, my lady."

"I needed you to know how serious I am. Because it is important. My strong feelings about you are important." She gazes up at him with her shining, honey-brown eyes.

Lucien's eye glistens with unshed tears. "Well, I have loved every second with you so far, and I look forward to the days ahead of us that I had survived for, unknowingly. I was meant to live...for you, my lovely Elain."

He then lies her down and Elain blushes prettily, beckoning him closer. Lucien crawls over her slightly and she pulls him down on top of her, claiming his lips as they slowly begin their descent into the essence of one another.

.

.

.

Amber's jaw drops as she strolls the streets of Velaris with Mor, arms linked and scarves wrapped around their necks. The chill of winter had finally breached and despite it being her least favorite in terms of weather, Mor was thrilled to have someone to cuddle up to this year.

"Holy fuck. That story literally seems made up. That's some impossible shit, Mor."

Mor chuckles lightly but huffs out a breath, watching it swirl in the air in front of her red-painted lips. "It's just so weird, you know. I spend nearly my entire life making up this whole story in my head about how horrible he was and why I had to hate him, all to keep up our guise. Until it somehow became so real to me that I believed it and started hating him for real."

"With our lifespans, I'm not shocked, plus he is the heir, and you carry the most resentment for his father whom he willingly works for, right?"

"There's a thin line when you say 'willing', in terms of Eris and Beron. Really, he's just staying the course until the bastard dies. Eris is the only hope that Autumn has. I think you of all people should know that."

Amber nods solemnly. "Yes...every time I leave, I have to tell the guards why I'm leaving the borders of Autumn. I've resorted to telling them that I had a mate here in the Night Court. You know how they are...they still think you all are the villains, so they probably think I'll end up dead or staying here and they wouldn't care less. It's just about control for Beron. Who comes and goes. Especially females", she sighs.

Mor nuzzles her shoulder. "I know. That's why Eris left me there at the border when Keir...nailed that note to me", she says quietly. "In a way, I knew it killed him to do so. Even though I rejected him, mates still are connected. The males go feral when their mates are hurt usually. I supposed the one good thing he learned from having to live there is having the shortest leash on impulses. Super control. Lucien has that too. Sometimes I wonder if it's a fear response. If expressing too much got them punished so often that they forced themselves to control what they can and can't feel. It's a crazy notion but, I've seen that in Eris especially lately. But...dying affects a person. I've seen my cousin struggle silently since the war. Though Rhys is harder to read curiously enough. Who knows, he could just be pissed that his life is now only linked to fucking Tamlin deciding to save him, of all people. Regardless of why he did it."

"Ooh, drama."

"Definitely."

"So, how are you feeling about the whole disappearing mate bond thing? Weirdly, it didn't come back when he did, right? I mean Rhys and Feyre's did, you said."

Mor nods slowly, pondering. "It's just weird. As long as I can remember that tether has been there, and we had tried so damn hard to avoid each other to cover the scent of it and he had glamoured his, and...it's just weird. I feel like this whole place inside of me is empty now. I don't know why it didn't come back. Maybe since we have grown and changed, we aren't truly compatible anymore. Our powers are the same though, so that doesn't make too much sense to me. But, I'm not going to complain about a second chance, regardless of why it happened. I could never love him that way, and both of us deserved to choose. That bond wasn't fair to either of us. So while I can see the mask he has worn, I wish him well now, and maybe we can be more friendly, it's a good thing that we are not bonded anymore. I think he has eyes for someone else and that's a good second chance for him. Not to mention that I also have eyes for someone else", she smirks, tugging Amber's scarf until their lips touch in a soft kiss.

Amber giggles ad kisses back. "You know, maybe the bond disappeared because its use played out."

"What do you mean?", Mor asks, brow furrowed.

"Well, your bond allowed him to know you wanted freedom, so he left you there, not to mention he influenced Keir so he'd never visit Velaris...so you could stay at ease. And on the other hand, it allowed you to know when he was hurt and dying to go to Autumn to retrieve his body so all of this could happen and he could be saved, allowing both of you to get that second chance at real love that you both deserved. Maybe that was the Mother's plan. To bond two people who would have otherwise had nobody in times they really needed somebody to see them. Two people, equal in power, but also equal in powerlessness despite their magic."

Mor's eyes glisten a bit as she stops walking. "You know...that makes a lot of sense, Amb."

"I can be smart", she laughs. "For a blonde. Right?", she nudges Mor who laughs softly.

"Let's stop in the café for some tea. I'm freezing."

"Oh, good idea, love", Amber grins, freckles dancing on her bronze skin.