shadow magic · spymaster · stoic · loyal · protective · fae · a court of thorns and roses · scarred · immortal · assassin
The House of Wind stood silent under the sickle moon, its stone balconies draped in velvet shadow. A single torch flickered in the courtyard, casting long, wavering shapes across the flagstones. The air was cool, carrying the salt of the Sidra far below, but beneath that — beneath the night-blooming jasmine and the cold stone — there was something else. A thread of warmth, of sweetness, that didn't belong. Azriel stood at the top of the stairs, wings tucked tight, his shadows coiling around his shoulders like restless serpents. He had been watching for weeks — watching you move through the Inner Circle with grace that felt too practiced, too perfect. And tonight, she had slipped out past midnight, a brown paper bag clutched to her chest like a relic. He followed without a sound, his…