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Azriel was up before a shadow had the chance to wake him, already on high alert for any noise from the bassinet. Before Seryn could make another sound, he had crossed the short space from his and Gwyn’s bed to the bassinet. Under the covers, Gwyn shifted, one hand sliding into the empty space he had left, but Azriel’s shadows threaded through her copper hair and lulled her back to sleep. Seryn couldn’t be hungry, having been fed only an hour ago, and Gwyn needed to rest. There was precious little time to sleep with a two-month-old in the house.
Pushing his own messy hair back from his face, Azriel leaned over the hanging bassinet as it gently rocked under the power of an enchantment. It had been a gift from Helion, mainly because Gwyn was his favorite Night Court librarian and a partner on the Prythian library initiative. The applewood was inlaid with copper and brass and gold symbols for wisdom, intelligence, and wit. It was always warm to the touch, like the sun had soaked into the wood.
At the top of the bassinet, a mobile of three pegasus spun, the intricate metal wings moving on their own. That had been added by Lucien and made by the artificer Nuan. Lucien enjoyed verbally sparring with Gwyn and had insisted on the inclusion of the pegasus, knowing how much she loved them. Gwyn made friends much easier than Azriel did. It was one area he would never compete with her.
In the bassinet, Seryn was laying on her stomach and making little raspberry noises and blowing bubbles. It was something she had just recently started doing. She was discovering how to make new sounds and played with whichever ones she learned by repeating them. The fact that sometimes her noises made people laugh only encouraged her. She pushed up on her hands, wings flapping, and blew another raspberry. A shadow that was nestled in the bassinet with her brushed against one of her wings before curling up toward Azriel.
The nightlight is happy, it whispered into his ear.
The nightlight as the shadows called her was absolutely perfect. Azriel could watch her blow bubbles and amuse herself for hours. He had thought he couldn’t love her more the moment she was born, but each day he found something new to adore. He didn’t know what he was going to do when she started talking and walking and flying.
Smiling, Azriel reached down and lifted Seryn out of the bassinet, picking up her soft purple blanket as well. “Hello, little restless one.” The bassinet stopped rocking as he touched the spelled notch on its side. Settling her against his chest, he carried her out of the bedroom and down the hall of the cottage. Some instinct had him moving through his and Gwyn’s small home.
Moonshine and starlight gleamed through the windows. He stepped through the pools of silver and watched wisps of it gather around Seryn, drawn to her. Motes of starlight glimmered by her dark-haired head as he headed out the back door, his wings raising.
Overhead, the full moon shone, making the city beyond the cottage glow. He glanced down at Seryn. Her big teal eyes met his hazel ones. She smiled before bumping her forehead into his neck, nuzzling against him. Lately, she had started smiling at certain people, and he knew from watching his nephews grow that this was when babies began to actually recognize people. A quiet but unescapable joy grew in his chest at the idea that his daughter smiled at him because she knew it was him.
During the last full moon, it had been cloudy and snowing. This was the first full moon since Seryn was born that was clear and inviting. His blood sang with the need to fly with her, to show her the night sky. He wanted to take off with her, but it was much too cold. Maybe Rhys or Cassian would take Nyx or Rhodes but…Azriel was hesitant with Seryn.
Goosebumps prickled his skin as he drew the blanket around Seryn, using the technique Nesta and Feyre had taught him and Gwyn to wrap the blanket with her wings in mind. She pushed a corner of the blanket down and looked up at the moon. A soft cooing sound like a dove’s call escaped her.
“It’s almost as pretty as you,” he told her, giving into the sentimental feeling curling through his chest. He brushed a finger over her button nose.
He heard Gwyn’s footsteps behind him before his shadows appeared, flowing in front of her like a vanguard.
“I’d rather you not turn into an Illyrian icicle, even though you would make a gorgeous ice statue for the front lawn,” Gwyn said as she hugged him from behind, her forehead bumping his back between his wings. One knee buckled as she kissed the sensitive leather of his right wing and then peeked over his shoulder on her tiptoes. She was tall. He was still taller. “At least you bundled the baby.”
“Glad you’re giving me credit for simple tasks,” he said. He smirked over his shoulder at her. “And if you need a statue of me so badly, I’m sure you could commission one in the Rainbow.”
Gwyn grinned back at him, the starlight gleaming in her eyes. “I don’t want anyone else ogling the lines of you for that long. That’s my job.”
“Are you going to take up ice sculpting?”
Her teeth nipped his shoulder. “Maybe next century, if you behave.”
“Gwyneth.” It wasn’t fair how easily she could spark a fire in him.
“Azriel.”
Seryn made a chipper noise, like she didn’t want to be left out. Gwyn’s hand trailed his arm as she came around his side and grinned at their daughter. She slipped Seryn out of his grasp, and the shadows curled up around the pair of them, his girls. “You’re up late. What a typical Night Court child.” Cuddling her, she kissed Seryn’s warm cheek. “You fit right in.”
“You should be asleep.”
“We all should,” she countered. Gwyn glanced up at the moon and then back at Azriel. “It is a beautiful night.” It probably reminded her of long nights up at the House of Wind when they lived there, raising the specters and slowly falling in love even though it took him forever to figure out what was happening. Their bond hadn’t snapped so much as settled so deeply in his chest it felt like it had always been a part of him. Yes, there had been a moment of realization, but by then, it had been such a deep integral part of himself, he couldn’t imagine life without it. Without her, and now, without their daughter.
Leaning down, Azriel kissed her temple and then stole a kiss from her welcoming lips. “A reminder. I love you, Gwyn. ”
“Reminder received,” Gwyn said, stealing a kiss of her own. “A note in return. I love you also, Az, more than moonlight and interesting words and unexpected adventures.”
He smiled. “Good. I was worried that had changed since yesterday.”
Gwyn stepped into his embrace. “If my love for you changes, it’ll only grow. And that’s as sappy as we’re getting tonight.”
“Oh? Can’t I challenge your sappiness with—” He was cut off by the top of her head butting against his jaw, and he laughed as he tightened his hold on her, pressing a quick kiss to her neck.