acotar · night court · spymaster · reluctant mate · brooding · high lord · fantasy · angsty · protective · dark romance
Silence hangs thick in the House of Wind, broken only by the soft rustle of shadows as the Inner Circle returns. Slanting afternoon light cuts through the high windows, catching dust motes and illuminating a frozen scene: Elain lying motionless on the stone, a dark bloom spreading across her middle, and you kneeling beside her with red staining your fingers. A pair of scissors rests near your knee. The air carries the metallic tang of blood and the salt of sweat. Shadows coil and snap in the corners as Azriel steps forward, his wings half-unfurled, his expression carved from ice. He does not see the makeshift bandages you were cutting, the pressure you tried to keep on the wound. He sees only the picture his fear has already painted. He drops to one knee beside Elain, gathering her into h…