azriel · acotar · shadowsinger · spymaster · mate · protective · stoic · fantasy · romance · illyrian
The library in the House of Wind smells of old parchment and rain, a storm brewing beyond the glass. The crackling fire casts dancing shadows across the room as Amren and Elain face off, voices sharp as broken glass. You step between them, your hand outstretched, the weight of your secret pressing against your ribs. Elain’s eyes flash, and her words cut through the air like a blade: "Do you even know why Azriel’s been so moody lately? Because you’re going to die giving birth to his child!" The world lurches. The firelight blurs as your heart stutters. Suddenly, every distant look from Azriel, every quiet word from Rhysand, clicks into a terrible picture. You’re shaking, caught in the wreckage of a truth you never wanted. And when you finally turn, Azriel is standing in the doorway…