𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚎(𝙰𝙲𝙾𝚃𝙰𝚁)

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓

Despite the chill night, every shop was open as we walked through the city. Musicians played in the little squares, and the Palace of Thread and Jewels was packed with shoppers and performers, High Fae and lesser faeries alike.

But we continued past, down to the river itself, the water so smooth that the stars and lights blended on its dark surface like a living ribbon of eternity.

The eight of us were unhurried as we strolled across one of the wide marble bridges spanning the Sidra, often moving forward or dropping back to chat with one another.

From the ornate lanterns that lined either side of the bridge, faelight cast golden shadows on the wings of the three males, gilding the talons at the apex of each.

The conversation ranged from the people we knew, matches and teams for sports, new shops, music we'd heard, clubs we favored.

The other side of the city was even more crowded, with patrons in finery out to attend the many theaters we passed. We strolled along the riverside walkway, past shops and cafés, music spilling from them.

Eventually, we entered a small restaurant beside the river, built into the lower level of a two-story building, the whole space bedecked in greens and golds and barely big enough to fit all of us. And four sets of Illyrian wings.

But the owner knew us, and kissed us each on the cheek, even Rhysand. Well, except for Amren, whom the owner bowed to before she hustled back into her kitchen and made us sit at the large table that was half in, half out of the open storefront.

The starry night was crisp, the wind rustling the potted palms placed with loving care along the riverside walkway railing. No doubt spelled to keep from dying in the winter—just as the warmth of the restaurant kept the chill from disturbing us or any of those dining in the open air at the rivers edge.

Then the food platters began pouring out, along with the wine and the conversation, and we dined under the stars beside the river.

The owner—a slim, dark-skinned female with lovely brown eyes—was standing behind Feyre's chair, chatting with Rhys about the latest shipment of spices that had come to the Palaces.

"The traders were saying the prices might rise, High Lord, especially if rumors about Hybern awakening are correct."

"We'll find a way to keep the prices from skyrocketing," Rhys said, leaning back in his chair.

"Don't trouble yourself, of course," the owner said, wringing her fingers a bit. "It's just so lovely to have such spices available again—now that that things are better."

Rhys gave her a gentle smile, the one that made him seem younger. "I wouldn't be troubling myself—not when I like your cooking so much."

"Is it to your liking?" she asked Feyre.

"I've lived in the mortal realm, and lived in other courts, but Ive never had food like this. Food that makes me feel awake."

"Then Ill bring you a special dessert," she said, and strode into her kitchen.

Mor was busy telling us a story when the owner emerged with a metal goblet full of dark liquid and placed it before Amren. She hadn't touched her plate, but pushed the food around like she might actually be trying to be polite. When she saw the goblet laid before her, she flicked her brows up.

"You didn't have to do that."

The owner shrugged her slim shoulders. "It's fresh and hot, and we needed the beast for tomorrow's roast, anyway."

Amren swirled the goblet, the dark liquid lapping at the sides like wine, then sipped from it. "You spiced it nicely." Blood gleamed on her teeth.

The owner bowed. "No one leaves my place hungry," she said before walking away.

By the time we left, I had eaten much more than my stomach could handle. Mor rubbed her stomach in lazy circles as we paused beside the river.

"I want to go dancing. I won't be able to fall asleep when I'm this full. Ritas is right up the street."

"I'll go—for the drinks. No dancing," Cassian decided.

"Thank the Mother. You nearly shattered my foot the last time you tried."

"Will the rest of you be joining us?" Mor asked us. I sighed, throwing my head back.

"Fine," I agreed.

"I think Eve and I will head home," Az said, wrapping an arm and wing around Evelina.

"I could go for the dancing," Eve insisted. Az raised an eyebrow at her.

"You know you can't be around that much alcohol, Evie," he reminded her. Feyre furrowed her eyebrows, and Mor snickered.

"When Eve was married off in Autumn, she and her sister-in-law used to get wasted," Mor explained. "Like fucked up. The entire court started calling them the Plastered Princesses. We even heard about it here in Night."

   Feyre chuckled with the rest of us, but Eve just rolled her eyes.

"Fine, Az and I will head home," she decided, though she was pouting a bit. "Mor, you don't have to tell everyone that story, you know."

"I know, but I'm your cousin and embarrassing you is what I do best," Morrigan teased her.