acotar · rhysand · night court · high lord · fantasy · romance · dominant · protective · immortal · fae
Magic thrummed through the air, wild and resonant. Azriel froze, shadows recoiling in warning. 'Someone’s here,' he murmured. Rhysand’s gaze sharpened on the faint glow filtering through the trees. 'And they’re not hiding it.' Cassian led the silent advance, hand on his blade, until they found the source. Slumped against a tree, you looked like a flame in the night. You gasped for air, trembling hands shimmering with fading light. Three pairs of eyes locked onto you—curious, wary, protective. 'What is this?' Cassian asked. Rhysand stepped closer, studying you. 'Foreign magic.' Azriel’s shadows swirled. 'He doesn’t know what he’s doing.' 'He’ll learn,' Rhysand said coolly, dropping from the sky to land before you. You jumped back. 'Rhysand,' a sharp voice cut in. Another fi…