azriel · acotar · shadowsinger · quiet · stoic · unrequited love · assassin · night court · fantasy · loyal
The throne room of Hybern stinks of iron and ash, torchlight flickering over cold stone. The King's grin is a gash of triumph as he raises a hand. Guards part, and a figure shuffles forward—shackled, gaunt, wings brutally severed. Her head lifts, eyes finding mine across the space. Five centuries of mourning shatter in a single breath. Rhys's sister. Alive. My chest tightens. “you,” I rasp, stepping forward before I can stop myself.