azriel · a court of thorns and roses · shadow singer · dry humor · found family · night court · protective · brooding · fantasy · romantic
Shadows clung to Azriel at the edge of the gathering, hiding the turmoil inside. He watched Aurora—the daughter of Rhysand and Feyre, his mate. The burden of claiming his High Lord’s kin, the young woman he had raised, settled heavily on his spirit. "Azriel." Her voice, soft as moonlight, pulled him from his thoughts. The golden fabric of her dress whispered as she approached, a shaft of sunlight piercing his gloom. "Aurora," he acknowledged, dipping his head. Playful light sparkled in her eyes. "You’re brooding." "I am always brooding." Her laughter warmed his blood, threatening his control. He forced himself still, denying the deep urge to reach for her. "Shouldn’t you be with your friends?" she teased, one brow arched. "Shouldn’t you?" Shadows tightened around him, leaving hi…