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They had spent two hours behind locked doors. Silence from the inside aside from the occasional mysterious bout of laughter. No matter how much the rest of the inner circle begged to be let in, Mor and Cas gave a huge, resounding no. Their explanation had been simple: the surprise of their genius costumes was far too good to be ruined by a sneak peek.


At last, the duo had descended down the stairs and stood proudly for all to see their genius creations for costumes. For a long moment, no one knew what to say as Illyrian and High Fae stood before them shamelessly. They had expected something ridiculous. But this? Mother’s Tits, no one had anticipated this in their wildest dreams…

Azriel was the only one to speak.

“What bet did you two lose?” Azriel asked as he looked over Cas and Mor. For this, his shadows lifted. Just to be sure that he was seeing the pair clearly.  He was the first to get up to continue his inspection of the two grinning idiots. Teasingly, he reached out to touch the downright sexy red dress that was slit so scandalously high up the thigh, revealing smooth skin beneath. The color contrasted beautifully against the golden locks that fell unbound in gentle waves. 

The spymaster whistled, bolding reaching out to slap the firm ass that was presented, “I must say, I’ve never seen such a beauty in all my life. Wars will be waged for a chance to dance with you, milady.”

It was Feyre who blurted out next, “Are you wearing makeup?

Mor grinned devilishly as she came and hooked her arm into Cassian’s, batting away Azriel’s hand from reaching out to touch the now-infamous red gown, “Stop it! You’ll muss the material. And yes, he is wearing make-up. If I’m being honest, I think he looks prettier than me. Almost.” Clearing her throat, Mor winked to the commander of the armies, “Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present to you the one and only Morrigan—ooh and awe over her stunning beauty. A queen in her own right. Her power is truth. And, truth be told, she is the star of the night. See how the dress accentuates her wings and those absolutely stunning tattoos.”

Cassian puckered his lips, red lipstick accentuating his full mouth as the Illyrian chanced a curtsy in the dress he was wearing, “And, may I have the pleasure of introducing my escort for the night—the most handsome Illyrian to ever exist. Commander of armies, brilliant on the battlefield. A living legend. See the way his muscles bulge in those leathers. Ah and, my friends, take note of the wings—” He stepped aside to give her room to twirl around and reveal the wings they had fashioned with gossamer and a clever mechanism for furling and unfurling them. Mor spread them and it did not go unnoticed just how large the wingspan was—the fact that she made sure to have the biggest of any of the males in the room “—and just how perfect they are.” 

Rhysand howled with laughter, bending down to look at Cassian’s legs, “Did you shave your legs?”

“No. The Morrigan does not shave. She waxes. And yes, I made sure to wax.”

Feyre chimed in, walking over to touch the make-shift wings, pouting playfully at Mor, “You made yours bigger than mine. How rude. But, Mor… I have to say—you would make an incredibly bad ass Illyrian.”

Proud as a Peacock, Mor situated the wig she had hid her hair underneath (hells, she and Cassian had bickered for a good twenty minutes on how her ‘man-bun’ should have been fashioned), “Feyre, my High Lady, as much as I appreciate your compliment—I afraid you are mistaken. I am not Mor. I am Cas.” 

Oh. They were going to have entirely too much fun that night. 

Smoothing out his dress, he looked to the rest of the gang with a downright impish grin, “So, are we ready to go trick or treating?”

The refusal was unanimous. 

“Well, aren’t you all a bunch of old asses. Finneeee, be sticks in the mud. Mor and I will simply go and get all the candy for ourselves,” she said, turning up her pert nose as a button was clicked underneath her sleeve to close the wings again. 

“Don’t bother asking us to share. The answer is no,” Cas added on, tossing his hair over his shoulder in exaggerated fashion.

Arm in arm, the comical pair left the town house and entered into the streets of Velaris to go and fill their bags with as much sweets as they could.