Page 182 of Iris
The walls are painted deep purple, warm light catching on brass sconces and shelves lined with bottles—Killian’s doing, of course, every label turned just so.
Xavier’s touches are here, too, more subtle but just as beautiful. He had insisted on the vines carved into the banisters,curling like blooming flowers. And the white owl logo with the bar’s new name scrolled across it was Emmie’s piece.
We decided onNightshadeas an ode to the rebel group that disbursed when I joined the Council and started getting things in motion, like I’d promised.
The mural on the far wall of a night sky littered with stars over the silhouette of Sabine’s skyline was my idea. It just felt right.
A reminder of where we’ve been, and where we’re going.
“Icy!”
I look down just in time for Emmie to barrel into me, her blonde curls bouncing, cheeks flushed with the kind of excitement only a newly five-year-old can contain. She’s wearing the new purple dress I made for her, the one with tiny embroidered owls across the bodice and the ruffles on the hem. And of course, I made sure Delores got a tiny matching outfit, too. That’s a no-brainer.
“Happy birthday, Em.” I crouch down and press a kiss to her forehead. She smells like frosting already. “How does it feel to be five?”
“Big,” she declares proudly, then spins so her skirt fans out like a bell. “Heap says I’m practically grown.”
“Mm, don’t let him mate you off now,” I tease, brushing her hair back.
She makes a face, but then she spots Xavier across the room and runs off. He scoops her up without hesitation and lifts her high in the air. Her squeals ring out above the music playing softly from the speakers.
Killian sidles up next to me, his arm brushing mine. “I’m surprised they gave you a day off.”
“They didn’t have a choice,” I say with a chuckle.
Killian reaches for my hand and squeezes. “You’re the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to that place and you know it.”
I laugh. “Oh, I know.”
The front doors of the bar open and a cheer goes up.
Violet and Stephan step inside, and my heart leaps at the sight of them. Violet’s cheeks glow, her hair swept up in a loose twist, her smile so wide it could light the whole bar. Stephan looks just as undone, relaxed in a way he hasn’t been in a long time. But it’s what’s in his arms that makes me grin.
Alder.
Their son is swaddled in a soft gray blanket, chubby cheeks pink, tiny fists clenching the air as if already trying to communicate with world. Nearly three months old, and he already looks like he’s filled with fire.
Maybe he’ll be like me and give them a run for their money.
The thought makes me laugh.
I hurry over to them. “Let me see my nephew.”
Violet beams as she eases Alder into my arms. The baby blinks up at me, eyes wide and glassy. He’s so small, so impossibly precious. I brush my finger against his hand and nearly choke when he curls his fist around it.
“I think he looks like me,” I tease.
Stephan’s gaze softens, his arm draping protectively over Violet’s shoulders. “Oh, really?”
The love between them hums in the air. For so long, I worried about her. I’m sure she could say the same about me. But looking at her and Stephan now, with little Alder added to their family, I know that things always have a funny way of working out in the end.
“Come on,” I say, carefully handing the baby back. “We’ve got cake.”
At that, Emmie shrieks. “Cake! Cake, cake, cake!”
Laughter ripples through the crowd, and soon we’re all gathered around the long table near the mural. The lights dim slightly, and Freya emerges from the back room, her steady hands balancing a cake that looks like it could have been sculpted by the gods themselves.
White frosting, swirls of lilac and pink, and five bright candles flickering in the dim light.
