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Cassian was mid-bite of his pastry when he noticed it—Eris’s hand resting on the table, wearing a ring that was very Illyrian, very Night Court… and very “I stole this from Azriel’s nightstand” coded. Cassian slowly looked from the ring… to Azriel… then to Eris, who was happily sipping his tea like a pampered house-cat in sunlight. Cassian’s grin spread, breath inhaled, chaos loading. Without looking up, Azriel slid a brownie across the table toward him like a bribe and murmured, “Don’t.” Eris blinked, confused but pleased with the brownie diplomacy. Cassian, cheeks full and heart warm, nodded. Fine. He’d give them this one.