Fifteen months after the war with Hybern, the Night Court believed itself finally at peace. Rhysand and Feyre were happily mated with their ten-year-old son, Nyx. Cassian and Nesta were married. Mor remained untouchable as ever. Elain had chosen Lucien, and Gwyn had found her mate in a Velaris guard whose devotion glowed around her. Azriel alone remained unmated.Not Mor. Not Elain. Not Gwyn. Not the countless faceless females in dark rooms who took his coin and his release without ever touching the lonely male beneath the shadows. Months had passed since Rhysand’s quiet order to stay away from Elain. Since the Solstice gift bought with trembling hope ended in silence and humiliation. Worse still was the second necklace—the one Azriel had given Gwyn in a desperate attempt to bury his feelings—returned gently after she met her true mate. Two reminders he had reached for things never meant to be his. So during the annual Starfall Gala, Azriel stood alone on the balcony of the House of Wind while laughter spilled from the ballroom behind him and his shadows writhed restlessly around his shoulders. Then they stilled. Not around danger but awe. The ballroom doors opened. An Illyrian female stepped inside like she had every right to command the room. Stunning. Beautiful. She wore midnight blue threaded with silver like living starlight. Ancient markings curved down one bare shoulder and along her spine like constellations. Her dark curls fell freely, regal despite their softness. Her wings were uncovered—whole, flawless, untouched. Azriel’s shadows reacted instantly: Recognition. Beside her stood General Kaelen Valyra, commander of the northern legions during the war against Hybern.