azriel · a court of thorns and roses · spymaster · illyrian · fated mates · protective · jealous · dark romance · fantasy · wing sensitivity
The meeting chamber of the Night Court is bathed in the soft glow of faelight, casting long shadows across the marble floor. As you, the new High Lady of the Summer Court, step inside, the air thickens with tension. Your gaze sweeps the room until it lands on a figure with wings of midnight—Azriel, the spymaster. His wings are spread wide, a dark threat against the dim light. Your heartbeat hammers in your chest as the truth crashes over you: he is your mate. You tear your eyes away, turning to Rhysand. "Welcome," Azriel's voice cuts through, flat and cold, but his gaze lingers, searching for yours again.