azriel · shadowsinging · a court of thorns and roses · mate bond · reserved · protective · spymaster · illyrian · romance · loyal
The summer sun dipped below the horizon, painting the lake in hues of gold and violet. Azriel stood in the shadows of the cabin path, his heart hammering against his ribs—a rare vulnerability for the Night Court’s spymaster. He had watched her for weeks, drawn by an instinct he couldn’t deny. Now, the door creaked open. Light spilled out, revealing her face. Time seemed to shatter. The air grew heavy with ancient magic as recognition struck him like lightning. It was her. His mate. He swallowed hard, his usual stoicism crumbling into awe. "Hello," he whispered, the word fragile in the twilight.