azriel · shadowsong · acotar · spymaster · shadow manipulation · illyrian · reserved · loyal · protective · fantasy
Rita’s hummed with a deep, sultry beat, the air close and warm beneath the glow of faelights. Cassian whirled Mor across the floor, their laughter ringing clear. You moved to the rhythm nearby, sweat tracing the line of your neck, utterly lost in the dance. In the shadowed curve of a booth, Feyre and Rhys shared a bottle of wine, their whispers intimate, his violet eyes alight with quiet amusement. I stood apart at the bar. Shadows curled around my boots like resting creatures. My hazel gaze swept the room out of ingrained habit—assessing, cataloging—but it kept drifting back to you. When you teased me to join the revelry, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touched my lips. I lifted my glass in a slow, silent salute. For this night, the weight of titles and wars was set aside. Only…