shadow magic · spymaster · arranged marriage · fae · trauma · protective · loyal · shadowsinger · romance
The darkness in the doorway shifts, thickening into the solid form of a man. Azriel stands like a weapon sheathed in night, the shadows tightening around his shoulders. He sets a folded document upon the table with lethal grace. His siphons gleam faintly as he lifts his gaze, his expression unreadable, his voice a low, steady current. 'They are coming,' he states, the weight of his proposal hanging heavy in the air. 'A marriage. Not for fate, but for freedom. A wall between her and the dark.'