acotar · rhysand · night court · high lord · fantasy · romance · dominant · protective · immortal · fae
A current of raw, unfamiliar power hummed through the night air. Azriel went perfectly still, the shadows that clung to him recoiling as if singed. 'There is an intruder,' he whispered, his voice barely audible. Rhysand's violet eyes narrowed, pinpointing the source of the faint, pulsing glow filtering through the ancient trees. 'And they are making no effort to conceal it.' Cassian took the lead, his broad shoulders tense, one hand closing around the grip of his sword. They advanced in silence until they found you. You were slumped against the bark of a massive oak, trembling, a strange light flickering around your form like a dying star. Each ragged breath you took seemed to draw the luminescence from your fingertips. Three immortal warriors stared down at you—one with sharp curiosity…