Days blurred into weeks and they heard very little from the group who'd gone to the Spring Court. Seren tried not to worry about them too much, but concern always sat in the back of her mind. It was often accompanied by that odd feeling she'd carried since returning from the Mortal Lands.

    Recalling the Mortal Lands only added to her concern. Jurian was supposed to meet with Rhys, but for some reason, could never find the time. They rarely heard from him, and when they did, he never had any new progress to report.

    Seren eyed the blank canvas in front of her. Her time as of late had been filled with painting, reading, babysitting, and trying to fix up another nursery. Feyre had given her jurisdiction over a small room right beside her and Azriel's. She had a few plans for the room, but was waiting for Elain and Mor's return so that they could help.

    Seren dipped her brush into a blot of silver and began to paint. She knit her brows as the image took shape, depicting four females. One female wore a crown. Another, a mask. The third carried a harp. The fourth wore an amulet. The women were just silhouettes, blurs of shadow.

    Almost as though she were being guided, Seren began to paint over the figures. She painted three new females over the ones with the crown, mask, and harp. The original fourth woman was left untouched. Seren touched up the artifacts, so that the new women held them.

    Seren leaned back in her chair, tapping her chin with the edge of her paintbrush. The amulet resembled the one she'd painted before, in Uncommon Beauty. With a shudder, Seren remembered Elain's whispered words.

    There is an amulet. There is life. There is light. Now, there is darkness and anguish. I hear screams. I hear cries. I see a broken body.

    I know that those three artifacts make up the Dread Trove, Seren thought. And clearly this amulet is important. She examined the females, but could find no identifying features on them. Or maybe I've just been thinking too much lately. Seren cleaned up her workplace and took the painting after it had dried.

    She carried it up to her room, trying to think of a title for it. Seren hung the painting beside Uncommon Beauty. "Dreadful Unknown," she said at last, still eyeing the new painting. Someone knocked on the door. "Come in."

    Feyre poked her head into the room. "Amren, Nesta, Gwyn, and I are going out for dinner, if you want to come."

    "Sure. Just give me a moment." She gestured to her paint splattered clothes with a laugh. Seren ducked into the closet and emerged minutes later, dressed in clean clothes.

    She followed Feyre down the stairs and outside, where the others were already waiting. Feyre took Seren and Nesta by the arms. Gwyn and Amren hung onto them as well as Feyre winnowed them deeper into Velaris.

    They arrived in front of a quaint little restaurant. It almost looked like a cottage, with its carved white stone walls, green copper roof, and trailing vines of ivy. Nesta led the way into the restaurant and a waitress seated them.

    "I've never been here before," Seren said.

    "Really? It's my favorite restaurant in Velaris," Gwyn explained. "I came here with Mor and Emerie once and I've been a regular customer ever since."

    They ordered their drinks and the waitress hurried off. By the time she returned, they were all ready to order. Their food sat before them soon enough. "What is that?" Amren asked, pointing at Seren's drink.

    "Raspberry lemonade."

    "Her favorite," Feyre laughed.

    "Want to try some?" Seren offered.

    Amren wrinkled her nose, then relented and took a sip. "That's surprisingly good."

    "When are you going to start decorating your baby's nursery?" Nesta asked.

    Seren finished her bite of sandwich before answering. "When Mor and Elain get back. I'm sure they'll want to help, and I'll need it."

    "I can help if need be."

    Feyre arched an eyebrow. "You didn't want to help decorate Nyx's nursery."

    "I wasn't exactly on good terms with you and Rhys at that time."

    "You weren't on good terms with anyone at that time," Amren scoffed.

    Nesta's cheeks grew red and she looked down. Gwyn nudged her with a shoulder and laughed. "You were on good terms with me." Nesta flashed her a grateful smile.

    "Did you ever learn the baby's gender?" Feyre asked, leaning closer to Seren as Amren, Gwyn, and Nesta continued to converse with one another.

    "No, I told Azriel I wanted to wait and he agreed. We did learn that the baby has wings, though." And she'd definitely been feeling them more often these days. Between the baby's kicks and small wing flutters, it was a wonder her womb was still intact.

    Feyre winced sympathetically. "That's exciting, but a bit of a hassle." Seren nodded. "I'm just glad you don't have to worry about the same thing I did."

    "Me too." Seren bit her lip and poked at her food.

    "Have you discussed names?" Feyre asked, swiftly changing the subject.

    "A few. Azriel thinks it's a girl, but I think it's a boy, so we have a surplus of options. He really likes the name Estella for a girl, but I'm not overly fond of the 'Stella' part."

    "You could always tweak the name to your liking."

    "That's true. We'll have to think about it a little more." They carried on eating and listened to Amren describe how much tastier blood was, compared to their usual food.

•༻☾☽༺•

    Azriel wandered through Windhaven until he found Cassian and Jorah. They were near the training rings, watching as several males gave instructions to the females. Azriel smiled to himself.

    "Isn't it great?" Jorah asked, spying him. "More males offer to help with the lessons each day, and more females come to learn."

    "It is great," Azriel replied. "We've made more progress than anyone could have hoped for."

    "How is Seren?"

    "She's all right. She doesn't sleep very well, though."

    "Why?"

    "Aches and pains, and the baby is fairly active."

    "Oh, I see." Jorah faced the training ring again. Azriel crossed his arms and Cassian leaned against the fence.

    "Where's Devlon?" Azriel asked.

    "I don't know. He's somewhere in the camp. He usually avoids us, unless he's got something to yell about," Cassian explained.

    "Hm."

    "Have there been any new reports?"

    "No. We haven't heard from anyone. Not Jurian, not Lucien, not Mor."

    "Not even Elain?"

    "Or Emerie." Azriel drew Truth-Teller and ran his thumb over the edge of the blade. Jorah gripped the fence railing, then hissed in pain. "Is your hand still acting up?"

    She nodded, clutching it to her chest. "It's almost healed now, thankfully, but it's still sore." Jorah stiffened and looked over her shoulder. Azriel followed her gaze. Devlon was approaching. "What do you want?" Jorah snapped.

    Devlon ignored her and leaned onto the fence, propping up his elbows on top of it. Cassian and Azriel glanced at each other, but remained silent. Jorah groaned and moved closer to Cassian.

    "My scouts have reported no activity around Ironcrest," Devlon said presently. "But they did say there's been a lot going on at your father's estate." His eyes drifted towards Azriel.

    Azriel tensed. "Have you told Rhys?"

    "Yes."

    "And?"

    "He told me to have my scouts monitor your father. They've reported nothing of interest yet."

    "Tell us when they do." Azriel lifted his gaze. The sun was sinking to the west. "We should get home, Cass."

    Cassian straightened and followed him away from the training rings. "Hey, wait." He clapped a hand on Azriel's shoulder, pausing.

    "What?" Azriel looked back.

    Jorah was glowering at Devlon. He simply watched her in return. Jorah tensed as Devlon took her injured hand. He rotated it gently, inspecting the still healing wound. He pulled a fresh roll of bandages from his pocket and hastily wrapped her hand. Jorah stared at him in surprise.

    "Keep it covered for another day or two," Devlon instructed. He began walking away. "A real warrior knows how to treat their wounds. Remember that, Little Harpy."

    "Prick!" Jorah called after him.

    Azriel's gaze flickered towards his brother. "I think he's starting to warm up to her," Cassian said.

    "And you're all right with that?"

    "Not one bit." They leaped into the air and flew away from Windhaven.

    The night was significantly cooler than the past few nights. Azriel could smell the changing weather in the air. Dark clouds gathered over Velaris in the distance, promising rain.

    "Do you think they've made any progress in the Spring Court?" Cassian asked.

    "They would've told us if they had."

    "Unless they've been busy making sure Tamlin doesn't kill Elain before she can speak to him."

    Azriel inclined his head. "That's true. I suppose we'll find out soon enough." They flew faster as the first drops of rain fell.

    By the time they reached the river house, rain was pouring from the sky. They tumbled inside, dripping water everywhere. Feyre, Amren, Nesta, Seren, and Gwyn all stood just within the entryway. They stared at the soaked Illyrians, then began to laugh.

    Nesta screamed as Cassian pulled her into a hug, drenching her as well. Feyre laughed even harder. "What's so funny?" Rhys called, appearing at the top of the stairs. He carried Nyx on his shoulders. Rhys caught sight of Cassian and Nesta and managed to set Nyx down before doubling over with laughter.

    Seren brushed wet locks of hair from Azriel's forehead. "The shadows look half drowned," she snorted.

    Azriel lifted an arm. The shadows were curled around it tightly, flattening themselves against him. A few shadows had clustered around the flaming band on his bicep. They alone remained unaffected by the rain.

    "Come on." Seren took his hand and pulled him up the stairs, still laughing. "Mor will be disappointed to have missed this."

    "She's seen us doused in rain before," Azriel chuckled.

    "I'm sure that won't ease her disappointment, though." They entered the bedroom and Seren closed the door. Azriel started for the bathroom, but she caught his arm. "I can do it," she said.

    He relented and held still. She summoned her flames, letting them generate warmth. They crawled over Azriel, dissolving the water that clung to him. He lifted his hands, watching the flames creep over them.

    "Is it too much?" Seren asked.

    "No." He lifted one of her hands and spread his fingers over hers. Azriel tipped his forehead against hers. Shadows covered Seren, like her fire covered him. The flames were deliciously warm and gave off a sweet crackle.

    The flames drifted over his wings. The sensation tickled, almost like the shadows. Azriel bit back a laugh. Seren grinned and sent the flames over his wings again. He let himself laugh and smiled as her cheeks turned pink.

    "I didn't know I could still make you blush," he said, flicking her chin.

    Seren's blush deepened. "Why wouldn't you be able to?"

    He didn't have an answer. Azriel drew her close and pressed a few light kisses to her neck. He kissed the corners of her mouth. Seren cupped his face in her hands and pulled him down for a true kiss. She drew back after a moment, her eyes wide.

    "What? What is it?" Azriel asked, brushing his thumb over her cheek.

    "Nothing. The baby kicked a little harder than normal. That's all. Or maybe it was the wings."

    Azriel smiled and knelt down, touching his forehead gently to her stomach. You'll fly in time, Little One, he thought. But not yet. He closed his eyes and Seren threaded her fingers through his hair. Again, he felt a rush of gratitude towards Nesta, and the deal she had made with the Cauldron. He did not have to fear losing his mate or child because of it.