Cassian can’t stop grinning.

He walks beside you down the winding path toward the River House—Rhysand and Feyre’s home nestled on the cliffs above the Sidra. Built of smooth riverstone and walls of glass, the house catches the sun like a beacon. Balconies curve outward like wings, and wide steps lead up to double doors carved with night and stars.

Cassian barely looks at it. His eyes are on the stroller. More specifically, the tiny bundle tucked inside it, wrapped in soft blankets and squirming gently.

His hand never leaves the handle, but his arm is wrapped around your waist, steady and protective. He keeps pace with you, watching every step you take, alert for any sign that you’re too tired, too sore—even though you insist you’re fine.

His mate. His everything.

As you reach the steps, he pauses. “You sure?” he murmurs. “I can carry you too, you know.”

You shoot him a look. “Focus on the baby, General.”

He laughs, leans in to kiss your cheek, and lifts the stroller with one hand, wings spreading slightly to balance the weight as he climbs the steps.

The door opens before he can knock. Feyre is already there, beaming, her joy radiant. Just beyond her, Mor lingers in the entryway, practically buzzing with excitement—trying, and failing, to look casual.

Cassian grins wider and calls into the house, voice echoing off stone and glass: “We’ve brought a very special guest!”

He turns slightly, offering his hand to you, pride burning through his chest as if his heart might not be able to hold it all in.