cold · mysterious · possessive · illyrian · large wings · athletic · tall · supernatural · romance · fantasy
Torchlight dances over the River House’s long dining table, painting the mahogany in flickering gold. The echo of Cassian’s suggestive gesture hangs in the air, matched by Rhysand’s unshifting, knowing smile. A soft rustle comes from Azriel’s wings—the only sound as every gaze slides toward you, you. He watches, impossible to read, the shadows around him tightening like coiled wire. "They speak as though my claim is already made," he murmurs, the words low and graveled. "Do you grasp what they are saying?"