A Court of Light and Melody

We Can Walk

****Set about 40 years after ACOLAM and just before the Epilogue**

Bonus Chapter 10/12

We Can Walk

"Other things may change us, but we start and end with the family."

- Anthony Brandt

Song: Heavy gets Light - Angus and Julia Stone

Gwyn watched from the doorway as Azriel rocked Petra in his arms. He stood on the nursery's balcony, the night breeze softly ruffling his dark hair as he sang a tender lullaby to the newborn he held. She smiled fondly at the picture. At the shadows that danced down his arms and the babe that yawned hugely, looking every bit like Cassian.

She stepped further into the nursery, warmly lit by the House. "That's a good look on you, Shadowsinger," Gwyn said softly.

Still singing quietly, Azriel turned only his head to look at his mate of approximately four decades. He lifted a finger to his lips, still cradling Petra in his arm, then crossed over to the bassinet.

The newborn floated out of his arms on a gentle wind of shadow. The smoky wisps slowly lowered her onto the blankets in her bed. Azriel looked down upon the babe, letting the baritone of his voice fade into the background. He smiled fondly, then walked back out to the balcony, jerking his head and motioning for Gwyn to follow.

She did so, sparing a glance at the snoozing baby. Petra looked like Cassian when she yawned, but the rest of the time she had the serene and stoic beauty of Nesta. Right down to the icy blue eyes.

Gwyn walked out onto the balcony, joining Azriel by the railing. They stared out at the moonlit night, and his arms lifted to wrap around her, pulling her back to his front and resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Now," he said, hot breath tickling the shell of her ear, "what was that about me looking good?"

Gwyn laughed softly, tilting her head back against his shoulder. "What can I say? I'm partial to a male that sings a good lullaby."

He nipped at her ear. "Trying to tell me something, mate?"

Gwyn nibbled her lower lip. Maybe she was... They'd been together for so long. Nearly as long as Nesta and Cassian. And watching her friends take this journey, from the announcement to the birth, had made her chest pinch. Had made her heart swell. And when she'd watched Azriel hold Petra, kiss her brow and smile down at her that day she was born, Gwyn had found herself practically swooning. And if that hadn't been enough, when Gwyn had held Nesta's daughter, she'd felt an urge to never let go. She'd felt a yearning to have one of her own. One that belonged to her and Azriel.

So yes. Gwyn was saying something. Maybe.

"I could be persuaded," Gwyn began, "to see if my pliable bones could do something by the way of a part Illyrian baby."

She felt Azriel's cheek lift from where he pressed his face against hers. "So Gwyneth Berdara wants a baby?"

"Only if Azriel Berdara wants one," she amended. "I could also be persuaded to wait." Gwyn shrugged. "I'm content being an aunt, just as you're content being an uncle."

Azriel stilled briefly, then hummed in response. But Gwyn turned her head and found his cheeks were pink, his lips were turned up in a faint smile. Something akin to disappointment and longing in his hazel eyes.

She laughed quietly. "Ah, so Azriel Berdara wants one after all."

Azriel pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. "I've been waiting for you to catch on, my love."