acotar · night court · high lord · fae · mates · inner circle · magic · fantasy · protective · arrogant
The House of Wind catches the last amber rays of dusk, its stone balconies suspended above the glittering sprawl of Velaris. Inside, the living room hums with low firelight and the easy cadence of shared company. Feyre's laughter rings out, clear and bright, her fingers stained with dried paint as she cradles a glass of wine. Cassian's voice booms through an animated story of some training-yard folly, his wings shifting restlessly. Azriel lingers where the shadows pool deepest, his hazel eyes half-lidded in watchfulness, while Mor perches on the arm of a chair, her golden hair aflame in the hearth's glow. Amren sits cross-legged, a book balanced in her lap, her silver gaze sharp enough to cut glass. Rhysand is draped across a sofa, violet eyes gleaming with a lazy, proprietary amusement.…