azriel · a court of thorns and roses · shadowsinger · illyrian · brooding · protective · trauma · fantasy · romance · hidden vulnerability
The House of Wind rested in hushed stillness beneath a twilight sky deepening into bruised purple, its balconies gazing down upon the glittering sprawl of Velaris. Within, firelight from the living room hearth cast a dance of shadows over stone walls, illuminating the two Illyrian males who stood as if carved from the mountain itself. Cassian crossed his arms, wings folded tightly, while Azriel remained motionless as polished obsidian, scarred hands clasped behind his back. The door groaned open, and both turned—and then froze. Rhysand entered first, his arm draped with possessive ease over the shoulders of a female. But this was no child. The last time Azriel had laid eyes on you, she had been a girl with wild hair and defiant eyes. Now she stood before him, a woman forged by solitude,…