(Rhysand)

"Steady," I told Celeste as I straightened her stance, shifting one foot ahead of the other to distribute her weight a little more evenly, "your form on the ground is just as important as when you get into the sky, remember that."

Nodding, she quickly made the adjustments. Her tiny frame shifted with ease, her wings curled tight against her back, ready to unfurl at a moment's notice. She'd been making incredible progress in her flying lessons, a natural if I'd ever seen one.

There could have been no more pride in my heart.

I glanced out toward the horizon where the sun was slowly beginning to descend beneath the edge, the last golden rays saturating us. We'd been at it all day, running form exercises and learning how to take off and land safely, practicing all the things she would need to know before she could fly on her own.

Bright as she was, she'd absorbed it all like a sponge.

She was ready.

"Back straight," I reminded gently one last time, smiling as she lifted her shoulders-she was growing tired, even if she would never admit it. She would never jeopardize what she was about to do, stubborn as she was. "Are you ready?"

Star-flecked violet peered up at me with such hope as she bobbed her head in acknowledgement, focus trained on the edge of the cliff we stood on. My brothers and mate waited in the valley below should she fail.

A safety net that would always protect her no matter how far or hard she fell. With us she would never have to fear the plummet.

"All right, you know what to do."

Blinking those doe eyes at me, her face broke into a wide grin that melted my heart.

Stretching, she loosed a breath before flaring her wings wide, already tauntingly larger and stronger than other children her age. Larger and stronger than even mine or my brother's had been.

It didn't stop the flicker of nervousness though as I watched her lower herself, preparing to get a running start before she jumped from the precipice. It took all of my self-control to not run beside her, to let her do it on her own.

She peered at me over a slender shoulder, silken tendrils of her hair escaping from her once orderly braid. "I won't fall, Papa, promise."

"I know," I told her, offering her a reassuring smile that I hoped conveyed everything I felt in that moment, "now go make me proud."

She winked, spirited as ever. "Of course."

With a swiftness and grace even I couldn't have mastered at her age she shot for the edge, wings flared as she threw herself from the cliff without an ounce of fear. I raced after, heart in my throat, and skidded to a halt at its edge in time to see the wind catch her wings—

Her form was perfect as she soared over the treetops, laughing in delight as she rode the breeze. A chuckle of joy built in my throat as I cheered, the sound echoed by shouts of triumph from beneath the trees as she shot for the horizon-

"That's always been one of my favorite memories too," my mate murmured, her mind curling against my own as she stepped up beside me, breaking me from the memory I'd become lost in as I often did. Her fingers laced through mine. "I'll never forget the way she soared so flawlessly, even if her landing was a little . . . rough."

The thought of the nasty curse that had escaped my four year old's lips when she'd entangled herself in an ancient pine and had to be retrieved by her cackling uncle still sent pulses of joy through me. She'd been furious the whole way home, even if her anger had been dampened by the fact that she had flown on her own for the first time.

It was a memory that I savored, revisiting time and time again when the hole that she'd left became a little too empty. Every moment we'd had with her had been precious, kernels of joy that I now valued more than anything.

"I thought she was going to tear Cassian's hair from his head," Feyre chuckled against my shoulder, the feel of her body against my arm maddening as she raked her fingers through my hair, pressing kisses to the inside of my throat. "It was truly a miracle that she didn't."

A miracle indeed. I had no doubts Celeste would have walloped my brother from one end of the training ring to the other had she lived long enough to do so.

I nearly growled when Feyre's lips pressed to the hollow of my throat, the contact sending a pulse of enticing energy through me, we still had time, we weren't needed for at least another half hour—

"Don't get any bright ideas," she purred as she pushed away from me, a groan escaping my lips at the loss of contact, the layers of her dress rustling with the movement. "We have guests to entertain - a house full."

It still didn't negate the warmth pooling in my stomach and in other precarious regions.

I'd still prefer to entertain you, I purred into the antechamber of her mind as I straightened the lapels of my jacket. We've a few minutes to spare.

She cocked one of those lovely brows at me, her lips parting in that damningly beautiful smile before she shot one word down the bond.

Lech.

You like me that way.

She huffed a laugh as she strode for the mirror on her vanity, straightening the golden pins in her curled hair. I watched as she smoothed her dress, a flowing gown of ivory embellished with whorls of gold and sheer gossamer, the piece nearly as lovely as she was.

My mate was right of course, we had a banquet to host in honor of all of the merchants and families who'd stepped up to donate and place the hundred-plus trafficked children that had been recovered on the front lines of the slave trade, the children Lucien had inquired about finding homes for weeks prior.

I'd presented the idea to the panel of Velaris's city representatives and the decision had been unanimous: any child that needed a home would find one, much in the same way that my people had selflessly opened their homes and hearts to the refugees from Hybern over a century before, when they needed it most.

Even if they had once been considered the enemy.

Feyre and I had nearly offered to take one of the children as well, as we'd flipped through the hastily written notes that had described each of the children and come across a young high fae girl, barely three, who desperately needed a home to call her own.

We'd discussed it at length but had quickly, and, albeit a bit sadly, decided that perhaps it was for the best that we didn't. No one could ever replace the child that we'd lost and we weren't ready to offer that love to another, not yet at least.

It hadn't helped that our other offspring had decided that squatting in the woods was preferable to speaking to his family.

At least Az had convinced him to return for a jacket fitting, much to both his mother's and my relief. Hopefully he would return once his aunt and uncle's wedding took place in the spring. The preparations for the event were rapidly assembling, and I'd never seen my brother look quite so happy.

It was a sight for sore eyes, and one that we all needed as we finally left the remnants of the rebellion behind us once and for all. Not that there weren't loose ends that still needed tying - Nesta and Cassian had still had no luck finding Valka, having scoured the Steppes for months in pursuit of her with nothing to show for their efforts.

I wasn't entirely convinced that she hadn't fled them entirely.

Nesta, stubborn as she was, had no intentions of abandoning the search, even if my mate had somehow been able to convince her and Cassian both to return for this banquet, to show a unified front and to celebrate a victory we had not expected.

A victory that still amazed me every day as I looked through the notes that I had received, the number of slavers and trade routes that one tiny ship had managed to rout in only a few months' time.

Feyre gave a quiet noise of acknowledgement as she gestured vaguely to her hair. Help?

Certainly.

I was just about to assist my mate with the golden pins when a soft knock sounded at the door and Elain's lovely voice filtered through it.

"The guests are arriving, should we start seating them?"

Sensing my thoughts, Feyre gave me a wolfish grin over her shoulder before replying sweetly to her sister, "Please do, we'll be there momentarily."

I couldn't help the laugh that escaped my chest as she pushed me up against the wall and crooned, "Five minutes."

I set to work.

Fallon let out a low whistle as she drank in the scene before her, the small hills and flat-topped mountains, the rolling river and sparkling pale buildings peppering the land, the massive estate poised just so on the lip of said river, sprawling gardens flanking its sides.

Velaris. The legendary city of the Night Court that had been shrouded in mystery for thousands of years, the rumor of its existence murky at best.

And here she was about to attend a party at its infamous High Lord's estate.

She grinned like a cat.

She had no intentions of spoiling this little party, and with Celeste and Co. in charge of matters in the south, no doubt preparing to intercept the next shipment, she had very little she had to focus on other than a good time.

"Your friends certainly are wealthy, aren't they?" She nudged Lucien with an elbow, waggling her eyebrows as they stood on the prow of the ship, the cool sea breeze whipping through her hair. They'd been on the sea for several weeks, slowly sailing up and around the coast of Prythian to reach their destination.

They'd only arrived a few days prior and had immediately set to work placing the children in their designated homes, the process taking days of wandering through the beautiful city, its streets filled with laughter and song.

She'd jokingly asked Lucien if his friends were in the market for a captain and ship, picturing herself occupying one of those pretty apartments by the river and becoming a regular at the taverns she'd been haunting in the evenings. He'd wryly informed her that she'd have to ask Rhysand, the High Lord, herself.

"Why does it not surprise me that that's your concern?" Lucien replied dryly, resplendent in an emerald tunic embroidered with gold, his hair loose about his shoulders-the way Fallon preferred it. She stuck her tongue out playfully.

"Means there's bound to be good booze." Lifting Priscilla, she ran her fingers through her freshly curled hair, the locks tumbling down her shoulders and into the deep crevice between her breasts, accentuated by the tightest and loveliest corset she owned.

She had intended to look her best for this little festivity, reveling in the opportunity to catch the attention of anyone who cared to look.

The article had immediately caught Lucien's attention when she'd donned it hours before, the male spluttering and muttering as he tried, and failed, to direct his gaze elsewhere. She'd of course preened, pleased with the grip she held on him. He'd offered her a compliment on how lovely she looked and she'd decided to repay him with a little morning distraction that had nearly sent him to his knees. She could still hear the moans he'd failed to stifle.

Frankly, she was just too good.

Not that her little gift hadn't been earned in other ways as well, quite the contrary actually. Thanks to Lucien's efforts all of the children had been placed in their new homes the evening before, each welcomed with open arms and smiles that had eased even the most nervous of them.

For that she'd been thankful, pleased that Lucien had been able to wrangle homes, good ones, for all of them. Not every child who'd been in that position before had been so lucky. Choosing not to dwell on the thought she looped an arm through Lucien's, tugging him along towards the gangplank.

"Shall we?"

"What of Avi and Vaerek, will they not be joining us? They had a hand in this victory as well." Lucien's brow furrowed as he scanned the deck behind him, no doubt looking for her fathers who'd subtly slipped below deck moments before, informing Fallon they'd be a bit busy for the evening and to enjoy herself.

They'd tirelessly assisted in corralling children to their destinations and were no doubt in need of their own private time, drained from the grueling hours they'd spent tending to the Siren's passengers, and had politely declined her offer to join them at the banquet.

She'd only smirked at them in return.

"No, they have other matters to attend to." She pressed a hand into Lucien's chest, running it down the length of his torso with a smirk. "I'm afraid it's just going to be you and me this evening."

The male slowed, his arm loosening from hers as he turned her to face him, the panes of his handsome face tightening. "Fallon, may I ask one favor of you, just one?"

"Name it." She gestured conspiratorially towards the large Estate before them. "I'm certain we can find a room somewhere in that monstrosity if the need comes upon you-"

"Fallon," he gripped her shoulders gently, embarrassment coating his scent, "Please—"

"Fine, fine I was just kidding," she adjusted her long, dangling earrings, "mostly."

He gave her a look that told her he knew she was most certainly not jesting. She shrugged shamelessly - he hadn't been complaining that morning.

"Just . . . behave. Please."

She quirked a single brow at him. Why would he ever suspect her of misbehaving? She was always the pinnacle of poise and maturity.

"I always behave."

(Feyre)

The murmuring of the crowd was interrupted by the faint strain of violins as I strode through it, offering smiles at the people of Velaris and their newly adopted children who milled around me dressed in their finery, none the wiser to my slightly delayed appearance.

My mate on the other hand was still . . . recovering, no doubt locked in our bathing chambers scrambling to make himself presentable. I nearly laughed at the thrum of annoyance that flickered down the bond.

I'd told him five minutes; it wasn't my fault that he hadn't managed to finish in that timeframe even though I'd happily found my completion.

Cruel thing, I heard him purr down the bond, the least you could have done was help me finish.

You're an adult, I shot back, toying with a lock of hair at my shoulder, I think you can handle yourself just fine.

The grumbling the echoed after nearly had me snickering.

Feeling the smallest bit of sympathy I shot an image down the bond, one of me in a particular position wearing a certain piece of jewelry that had been purchased for me several solstices ago.

The spark of release that followed had my toes curling in my shoes.

"I can see that grin all the way over here," Mor chortled from her perch next to a bored looking Amren and stiff-backed Lucien on one of the many chaise lounges arranged throughout the ballroom, a glass of wine between her fingers and clothed in a stunning crimson gown. "I'm surprised you've arrived at all, if my suspicions are correct." She took a sip from her glass, glancing around, "Where is my dear cousin?"

"Tending to his blue balls, I'm certain." Amren scoffed, her silvery eyes matched by the pewter outfit she wore, the giant sapphire pin I'd bought her a century ago pinned to her shirt. Lucien choked on his wine at the comment, eyes a bit wide.

". . . Preoccupied," I answered, unable to hide the amused grin creeping onto my lips. Mor chuckled knowingly. "He should be here shortly."

"I think he's anything but short right now."

We both burst into laughter at the quip from our Court's Second, the sound filling the space around us. She'd become pricklier than usual with the absence of Varian who'd returned home to Summer Court to tend to some errands.

Part of me wondered why she hadn't accompanied him. I'd known better than to question it, however.

I opted to continue chuckling instead, a vague pulse of disdain echoing from my mate.

You did this to yourself, I reminded.

"You look lovely," Lucien offered from his position next to Mor, his face a bit wan as he stood up to greet me, sketching a bow that had my eyebrow shooting up. "I'm glad to see you're well." He glanced back at Mor and Amren. "All of you."

Mor waved him off, guzzling more wine as Amren simply rolled her eyes.

He was being oddly . . . rigid. Sensing his unease, I stepped forward and engulfed him in a hug which he stiffly returned, shoulders still tight as I pulled away.

I knew he'd been working tirelessly on the seafront in the slave trade, corresponding between the field agents and the lords that were supplying them coin and men. Perhaps he'd just spent too long on the sea, likely exhausted from all of the work of placing the children in their homes, something that Rhys and I had been unable to assist with.

I sent him a questioning look which he sighed at, nervously raking his hands through his red locks.

He'd finally opened his mouth to speak when Cassian's voice cut in above the din.

"What is all the ruckus about? Did little Rhysie get stuck in a chimney somewhere?" The Illyrian strode towards us, his usual shit eating grin locked firmly into place as Nesta trailed behind him, her steely eyes surveying the room.

I was pleased to see that my sister had kept her promise to return, though I knew she was eager to find her missing lieutenant. Azriel approached in the distance, his arm looped through Elain's as she beamed at something he said.

Sensing my attention he lifted his head and smiled faintly at me, lifting a hand in acknowledgement. The smile faded the instant his eyes landed on Lucien, the shadows at his wings flaring wide. I saw Elain grip Az's hand just a bit tighter.

Lucien glanced uncomfortably away, trying all the world to be polite, to respect the choice his mate had made as he'd done for a century. Even if I knew it killed him inside, that it took all of his self-control to not try and tear Azriel apart.

Not that I was certain he could.

But . . . our family was converging together again as they should. Even if we were short two members.

My thoughts lingered on my absent son.

Sensing the unease Mor, easily supplied, "Something like that." Leaning over, she reached for the bottle by her feet that of wine she'd taken for herself, wiggling her fingers to grasp it. Amren tsked at her laziness.

"Well, he'd better hurry up," Cassian gestured to the guests, their voice a low murmur around them. "Everyone's waiting on one of his pretty little speeches. They're going to start getting bored soon."

"Who's bored?" Elaine asked as she stepped up beside Cassian, caramel eyes alight as she smiled at me, her arm still looped through Azriel's. I watched the smile waver just slightly as she caught sight of Lucien, even as she forced herself to be gracious.

Lucien respectfully nodded back.

The tension between them was still there . . . but it was weaker, weaker than I had ever seen it. I sent Lucien a questioning look that he shook his head at. Later, it seemed to say, I'll explain later.

To my surprise, Azriel's attention hadn't returned to Lucien yet and was instead directed across the room toward the refreshments table. Following his line of sight I spotted a roguishly beautiful female with hair the color of dark fire and the biggest bust I'd ever seen, cheerfully pouring amber liquid into the punch bowl.

I turned back in time to see the color drain completely from Lucien's face as Cassian barked a laugh, throwing his head back as Azriel dryly stated, "The guest of honor, apparently."

She tasted the punch, running her tongue along the roof of her mouth to analyze the residual liquid.

No, it wasn't nearly strong enough.

Pulling the flask she'd tucked under her belt free one more she dumped more of the rum into the large crystalline bowl before her, watching the amber liquid mix into the array of iced fruit juice-

"Fallon," Lucien hissed, immediately gripping her wrist as his eyes flashed dangerously, "What are you doing?"

Oh, that's where her date had gone, she'd been wondering where he'd wandered off too. She'd assumed he'd gone to find his friends and she, well, she'd decided to have a little fun.

She gave him a mischievous smirk.

"What does it look like?" she asked matter-of-factly, gesturing to her now nearly empty flask. "Livening up the party, obviously."

"There are children drinking this!" he snapped, snatching the flask from her hands and sending a spark of annoyance through her.

"So? Means we'll all have a better time."

"Of all the irresponsible things you could possibly decide to do—and all I asked was that you behave for the evening, for once in your life—"

Fallon began to tune out the sound of Lucien's voice as she caught sight of a familiar dark-headed figure ambling to her, flanked by one of the most terrifying and beautiful females she'd ever seen. Fascinated, the last of her attention fled from her lover's ranting.

"Cassian," she purred as she sidestepped her fuming date and raised a gloved hand in greeting, "glad to see you're still as handsome as last time!" Looking him over she stopped, cocking her head to side, "I don't remember you having wings before."

No, in fact, she was certain she would have remembered those huge, remarkable appendages, the razor-sharp talon at their apexes and the beautiful, membranous sinew.

She made a mental note to ask Lucien about them later.

"Hello, Fallon," Cassian greeted, smirking as he glanced at Lucien behind her, who was no doubt glaring holes into the back of her head, "it's good to see you too. And these-" he gestured to his wings, "-glamoured. I wasn't expecting Marchedor," he said the name of the city a bit sourly, "to have been as inclusive as it's become. It wasn't like that a century ago."

Fallon nodded in agreement, having heard her father's stories about the critical and tedious period that had been Marchedor's rise to power as a central trading hub, and the acclimation and adjustment it had taken for both the human and fae.

She didn't blame the male.

Flickering her attention to the female beside him, she offered her a sultry grin as she inched closer. "And you," she evaluated her, catching the slight tinge of Cassian's scent entwined with her own steely one, "must be Cassian's mate." She clicked her tongue in approval. "Oh, you're absolutely gorgeous."

Cassian's scent flared in warning but his mate only blinked at her, something like disbelief flickering across her features. Fallon vaguely wondered what the rules were pertaining to sleeping with a set of mates instead of just one—

Lucien cleared his throat loudly behind her.

Sensing her time was up as the crowd around her stilled, she offered a wink to the quiet female. Cassian cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Fallon—"

"Ah, ah, Lucien." She wrapped her arm around his waist and pointed at a beautiful dark haired male with wings like Cassian's who'd appeared out of shadows in the center of the room who was talking to a bronze-haired female dressed in ivory, likely the famed High Lord and Lady. "I believe we're about to hear a speech and you wouldn't want to rudely interrupt that, now would you?"

She could practically feel the annoyance oozing out of him. Perhaps he shouldn't have insinuated that she wasn't capable of behaving.

"By the Mother," he grumbled as the crowd silenced themselves, their attention turning to the male in the center of the room, "once we leave—"

"You'll what?" she murmured back, pinching Lucien firmly on the rear. "Spank me?"

Cassian grunted beside her, nearly spluttering as he hid his face behind his hair. His mate, in turn, watched her warily.

Grinning, Fallon flicked her attention to the male speaking, the perfect image of attention. If she was going to snag a future job from him she would need to at least pretend to care about whatever he was about to say.

Even if she was already beginning to lose track of the words.

"Welcome, and thank you all for attending." The High Lord's voice was a rich and sultry purr, one that had goosebumps flecking on her arms. "It is thanks to all of your generosity and efforts that have allowed us to open up our city and homes to those who have none, to accept a new generation of citizens who I hope will find peace and prosperity here." He paused briefly, no doubt well accustomed to addressing crowds, to moving their emotions, and with that powerful chest of his—

She suspected his High Lady had quite a bit of nightly fun. The naughty kind that didn't involve clothing. Perhaps Lucien wouldn't be opposed to seeing his friends in the nude, surely she could twist his arm about trying something, or rather, someone new.

Oh, she'd certainly be inquiring after that later.

Sipping from her crystalline glass she lazily glanced around the room, taking in several familiar faces she'd met in the days prior, some of them having attended the banquet without their adopted children but most holding their newest family members close in their arms.

One male in particular, Connor if she recalled correctly, had his arms wrapped about the little girl that her father had first pulled from the cargo hold, her dark ringlets now clean as she chewed mindlessly on her fingers, little eyes alight with curiosity in her new floral pink dress.

The male had told them he'd once been an orphan from Hybern when Avi had brought the child to him, gently passing the girl into his arms. She'd immediately latched onto him, tugging at his dark locks as he'd told them the story of the courageous little heir who'd rescued him from bullies so many years ago and how she'd embodied everything Velaris was - safety and acceptance.

He said it'd been her actions that had given him the courage to step up and return what she, and the city, had done for him. Paying it back by claiming the little girl as his own.

From a distance she watched as the new father bounced his child, as she cooed in delight at him.

Some city and heir it must have taken to have crafted a male like that, she thought.

A place where a child would be blessed to grow.

The thought filled Fallon with a calm that she had desperately sought since stepping into that hold, a calm in knowing that they had stopped at least one monstrous crime and had given these children a chance.

They would all be all right, would find a life that wasn't drenched in the terror of the memory of being an item for purchase. Would never be fitted with heavy iron or faebane chains that chaffed the skin raw with blisters, would never be left alone in the damp darkness.

Even the memory of the suffocating musk still lingered at the back of her own conscious. She took a long swig from her glass.

Vaerek had stood quietly with her in her room when she'd stormed away that day, offering her a comforting, silent presence after what she'd seen. It had ended abruptly when Avi had stormed in and promptly swept her up into a death grip, holding her so close she wasn't certain he would let go.

No, she had survived and these children would do the same.

Lucien must have caught the shift in her scent because he sent her a questioning look that she mindfully ignored, choosing instead to tune back into the Lord's pretty speech as she finished off the contents of her glass.

". . . And none of this would be possible without the agents on the front lines leading the efforts." He gestured toward her and Lucien. Blinking in surprise, she seamlessly painted a beautiful smile on her face before she gave a sweeping bow, plucking Priscilla off her head as she sketched her leg behind her.

Lucien tactfully bowed at the waist too, side eyeing her as she straightened and plopped her hat back on her head, giving her a look that said he'd sensed more than she would have liked him to. She ignored it.

She didn't fail to notice the lingering eyes as the lord's speech continued, either. Several of the males and females had done it days prior as well, no doubt soaking in what the Mother had so graciously gifted her with.

She was pleased she'd decided to wear this particular corset, satisfied that her lovely assets and beauty were on display for everyone to look at. A clever distraction from the thoughts that tended to swirl underneath, even for Lucien.

Turning, she reached for another cup of the spiked punch and downed it, relishing in the warmth that bloomed in her stomach.

The more tipsy she was the more bearable this event would be.

"I would also like to dedicate today to my daughter. Though it has been over a decade since her loss, we will never fail to remember her for what she was - the Star of the Night Court." Intrigue filled Fallon at the comment, at the shift in the timbre of the Lord's voice as he spoke. He no doubt referred to the same child Connor had spoken so fondly of, though she certainly hadn't expected her to be dead. "So in honor of the bright future that awaits the children who join us now, I'd like to raise a toast to you all and to Celeste, may her memory forever light our hearts."

The crowd raised their glasses, murmuring softly.

Something strange pulled at Fallon at the mention of the dead Lord's daughter's name, a wheel turning her mind as she considered. Celeste? Her thoughts flashed to her violet-eyed friend, her raven locks and too beautiful face . . . She almost laughed at the preposterousness of it. It was absurd.

From the vague details Fallon had managed to gather, Celeste had been an ill-treated fae child who'd appeared in Vanica one night without warning. Had washed up onto the shore with twin wounds stretching the length of her back as she lay face down in the sand, as though someone had ripped something from her. Wounds that they'd whispered looked as though they'd been inflicted by a demon.

She'd never seen those scars herself, in fact she'd never heard any of the story from her friend or her human sister, their lips tightly sealed whenever anyone made mention of their pasts.

No, the few scraps of information she'd gathered had been skimmed from the Loreley's crew, the former fishermen who tended to get a bit loose-lipped when they drank. She'd joined them one night in their revelry months ago and had listened as they'd weaved a harrowing picture of a beautiful, pale-skinned girl who'd appeared during the worst storm of the decade, of the taboo it'd struck with the isolated village when they'd seen her pointed ears, of how they'd all fled in terror when she'd drawn a breath when she'd clearly been in the throes of death.

They told of how the former Child of the Blessed had taken her as her own and how peculiar she had been. She'd always fled the shadows, they'd explained, had always keen to remain in the bright sun and headed home well before night set in. With that and the wounds she'd arrived with they'd somehow decided that a demon hunted her, that from the few kernels of information they'd managed to gather from her that she was a target of some great monster.

So they'd despised her, hated her for what she might one day draw to the island.

The men told stories of her strength and speed, of how she'd nearly ripped the Pennington boy's throat from him and had left him such a bloodied mess they'd worried she'd do the same to them. And when she'd breathed life back into the child Marrien . . .

The air had nearly sizzled as they'd told the story, thunder booming in the distance as they hunkered together as muttered amongst themselves. Fallon, losing her temper as she often did, had snapped at them about their idiocy and the outright cruelty they'd shown her. Stupid, paranoid grown men directing their biases and superstitions to a child who had never done anything to them.

They'd all gone silent at her words, and had slowly, one by one, expressed the shame they felt for their actions.

Explaining that over the years they'd grown to know Celeste when she'd come to work with them at the wharf, for coppers on the silver they were making, but never once complaining and putting in nearly double the effort they did. Had realized her love for her sister and adopted mother despite them being human and realized that maybe, though perhaps a bit late, she was no different from them.

And when she'd rescued them . . . it was a dishonor they could not recover from. So they now served her, not only as a trade but as a way to repay the cruelty they'd dealt to a child because of what she was.

So no, Celeste had faced heartache and turmoil in a way that Fallon doubted a spoiled child of a Pythian Lord would ever face.

To ever consider that a High Lord of such renown would abandon his heir in such a way? What kind of monster would that take? And the way he'd talked about her, the change in his voice . . . it wasn't possible.

Fallon tapped her fingers mindlessly on her leg. Perhaps Celeste was just a common fae name, one that'd popped up in recent years. Yes, that was a more sound solution than the ridiculous thoughts running through her mind.

Vaerek would have told her that her imagination was running away with her, that perhaps she should drink a bit less. Those phantom words of wisdom nearly had her putting her glass down. Speculation was all she was making, coincidences that were in no way connected-

Lucien tugged on her arm; his previous anger seemingly gone as he pulled her along. She almost cursed him for whatever he'd sensed in her moments before, instead settling for being snippy.

"Oh, and where are we going now?"

"To meet Rhysand and Feyre, the High Lord and Lady," Lucien gestured towards the two figures ahead of them. "You ought to at least meet your hosts."

Fallon blinked as the couple's features came into focus for the first time as they approached, her tipsiness coming to a screeching halt. Looking between them, the pieces clicked into place as they turned their attention to Lucien, every obscure detail coming together in her mind.

Rhysand's long, straight nose, high cheeks and cupid's bow lips, Feyre's tapered face, shapely eyebrows and contemplative expression . . . They offered her kind smiles, Rhysand's the twin to the slashing one she'd come to know, the starlight that danced in that violet—

Fallon's thoughts flashed to the wings that protruded from Cassian's back, and those of the Lord before her, wings that, had they been ripped from a child's body, would have left long, brutal wounds-

Their dead daughter's name—

The truth hit her like a ton of bricks falling atop her from the sky. Her heart stopped clean in her chest as she almost stumbled, the world around her honing into razor-sharp focus. She suddenly knew why her friend had been avoiding Lucien, had been so secretive with her identity. Fallon found herself regretting that last cup of punch as the floor swam before her, the memory of the color draining from Celeste's face as she begged her not to reveal her existence to someone who knew her father rising-

Celeste.

Celeste was their dead daughter.

She was the child that had been mutilated, then left for dead in a remote village full of human fisherman, barely clinging to life, fleeing from shadows - shadows, this was a Court of Night, a place where shadows ruled—a place from which Celeste was desperately hiding, had been hiding since she was a child.

And Fallon was the only one who knew she was alive.

Shit.