𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚎(𝙰𝙲𝙾𝚃𝙰𝚁)

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖞-𝖘𝖎𝖝**

"You ready to go home?" she asked me. I nodded. "Come on, Raea."

*************

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Dinner at the House of Wind was going to be awkward. I stood off to the side with Rhys while the others greeted one another.

"Did you kill them?" I asked quietly.

"Azriel's working on it," he admitted. I furrowed my eyebrows, turning to him. "They're in his dungeons."

"Oh," I said quietly, not sure how to feel about that.

"Would you like to kill them?" he wondered. "They're barely alive as it is, but you can deliver the final blows."

The idea of seeing them again, even if they were half dead, terrified me.

"No," I shook my head. "I killed Demetri, that's more than enough." He smiled, placing a hand on my back.

"Let's join the party," he said to me. I nodded.

Lucien ran his one eye over Feyre—her casual attire, then the Illyrian males in their leathers, and Amren in her usual gray, Eve in a simple black dress, Mor in her flowing red gown, and me in my light blue gown. "What is the dress code?"

"It's whatever we feel like," Feyre said, passing him a bottle of wine. "What did you do with yourself this afternoon?"

"Slept," he said. "Washed. Sat on my ass."

"I could give you a tour of the city tomorrow morning," Fey offered. "If you like."

I frowned, figuring that we had much more important things to do.

"You dont need to waste your time convincing me. I get it. I get--I get that we were not what you wanted. Or needed. How small and isolated our home must have been for you, once you saw this." He jerked his chin toward the city, where lights were now sparking into view amid the falling twilight. "Who could compare?"

I heard heels clanking against the tile, and I turned, tensing as Nesta stepped into the room.

She was breathtakingly beautiful, in a long-sleeved, dark blue gown that clung to her curves before falling gracefully to the ground in a spill of fabric.

Evelina nudged me, and I realized I had been staring like an idiot. I shook my head, looking away from her.

"Where did that dress come from?" Mor said, red gown flowing behind her as she breezed toward Nesta. Nesta drew up short, shoulders tensing, readying to—But Mor was already there, fingering the heavy blue fabric, surveying every stitch. "I want one."

"I assume my mate dug it up somewhere," Feyre said, throwing a glance over her shoulder at Rhys, who was perched on the edge of the dining table.

"He gets all the credit for clothes," Mor said. "and he never tells me where he finds them. He still wont tell me where he found Feyres dress for Starfall." She threw a glare over her shoulder. "Bastard."

Rhys chuckled. Mor only examined the silver combs in Nesta's hair. "Its a good thing we're not the same size—or else I might be tempted to steal that dress."

"Likely right off her," Cassian muttered.

Mor's answering smirk wasn't reassuring. I felt for Nesta. She wasn't used to the teasing or the attention.

"Fortunately for you," Nesta said flatly, "I don't return the sentiment."

Azriel coughed into his wine, and I bit my lip to hide a smile. But Nesta only walked to the table and claimed a seat.