The Inner Circle had gathered in the House of River’s common room after dinner, the room filled with a quiet, familiar ease.

Rhysand and Feyre sat together on a couch near the fireplace, their voices low and affectionate as they spoke. Cassian poured wine for Nesta and Mor, the three of them gathered around a coffee table, a deck of cards between them, laughter rising every so often as they played.

Amren and Elain sat in separate armchairs, the soft rustle of turning pages marking their comfortable silence. Amren’s eyes flicked up now and then to observe the room, while Elain smiled faintly at something in her book.

Near one of the tall windows, Nyx stood with Azriel, the two Illyrians speaking in hushed tones. Azriel nursed a glass of wine, occasionally glancing toward the stars outside. Nyx had his arms crossed loosely, his wings relaxed behind him, a rare moment of quiet on his usually restless face. Whatever Azriel said made him nod slowly, his gaze thoughtful as the firelight flickered across his features.