Being the wife of the High Lord of the Night Court isn't easy, especially when he's training with his brothers as if they're actually trying to kill each other.

I watch the three of them from the edge of the gym door, still unaware of my presence, and I cross my arms.

Cassian’s fist collided with Rhysand’s side, earning a grunt. Azriel leaned against the wall, silently analyzing their movements as the two males sparred in the middle of the training ring, sweat dripping from their bodies.

Cassian: (breathless, grinning) “You’re slowing down, High Lord. Need a nap?”

Rhysand: (rolling his eyes) “Or maybe you’re finally hitting harder than a butterfly.”

Azriel: (dryly) “If either of you ever shut up, I might actually learn something.”

The door creaked open behind them. Without looking, Feyre’s voice rang out loud and clear:

Feyre (me) “Cauldron, I could smell you three before I even got here.”