The stars were falling.

Cassian leaned against the edge of the terrace, a goblet of wine dangling lazily from his fingers, his wings half-draped along the polished stone. Overhead, the first streaks of silver light began to arc across the night sky, trailing stardust in their wake. All of Velaris shimmered in reply, lanterns bobbed along the Sidra, music floated up from the Rainbow, and laughter spilled from every open balcony and moonlit square. The City of Starlight was living up to its name.

Behind him, the celebration was in full swing. Feyre had insisted on a gathering at the House of Wind this year, something small, she’d said. Which somehow turned into at least fifty guests, live music, three courses of wine paired delicacies, and Mor dragging people onto the dance floor like a one-Fae hurricane. Rhys had already vanished with his mate, and Azriel was doing his usual lurking in the shadows thing.

He lifted the goblet to his lips, but paused.

Someone was watching him.

Not in the way most people did, whispers about the General, half fear and half awe. No, this gaze was different. Steady. Intrigued.

Cassian turned his head and caught sight of her. She stood just beyond the archway, close enough to the edge of the celebration to watch without being drawn in. Not lost in the music or the wine. Just... present. Still. The stars arced behind her in soft silver streaks, and for a moment, she looked like she belonged to the sky itself.

“You’re not from around here,” he said, voice low but not unkind.

Her gaze didn’t waver. “That obvious?”

That earned her the smallest tilt of his mouth—not quite a smile, but close. He stepped forward, careful not to loom, letting the starlight touch his wings.

“You ever seen Starfall before?” he asked.

She shook her head, eyes flicking upward as another star peeled across the sky. “I thought it would be louder. But it’s... quieter than I expected.”

Cassian glanced at the sky, then back at her. “It’s a rare thing. All this beauty, and no one needing to conquer it.”

Her lips curved slightly. “You sound surprised.”

“Most people don’t notice the quiet things,” he said. “They come for the spectacle. Not the stillness.”

She looked at him then really looked.

“Well,” she said, nodding toward the sky, “I think I like the stillness.”

His voice dropped, just above a whisper. “So do I.”