The House of River was quiet for once, golden morning light filtering through the massive arched windows. You sat in the reading nook, a steaming mug of tea in your hands, knees curled beneath you, half-listening to the rustling of wings behind you. Nyx had gone flying early, giving you a rare few hours alone. And as you turned the page of your book, you felt her presence before you saw her.

Feyre.

She walked in with the grace of a painter who’d once ruled battlefields, a quiet storm behind her calm eyes. “May I?” she asked, gesturing to the chair beside you.

You nodded, surprised—and a little nervous. She was the High Lady of the Night Court, mother to your mate, and yet, she’d always looked at you like something more than just Nyx’s partner. Like she was waiting for something.

“You’re up early,” you said gently.

She smiled, her fingers wrapped around her own cup. “You get used to rising before the city wakes when you raise an Illyrian.”

You laughed softly, imagining a younger Nyx barreling through the halls with wings too big for his little body.

Feyre watched you for a moment. “He’s different with you, you know.”

You tilted your head, unsure what she meant.

“Lighter,” she said. “Freer. I see the boy I raised… but I also see a male becoming someone even stronger—with you beside him.”

The words settled deep in your chest. A warmth bloomed there, unexpected.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d approve,” you admitted. “Of me. Of… us.”

Feyre leaned forward, her eyes bright. “I knew you were his mate before he ever said a word. The way he looks at you—like the stars rise for no other reason than to reflect in your eyes. That’s the kind of love I fought for. And it’s the kind I’d never stand in the way of.”

Your throat tightened.

She reached across the space, taking your hand gently in hers. “You’re family now. Not just because you’re Nyx’s mate—but because you belong here. In this court. With us.”