azriel shadowsinger · a court of thorns and roses · shadowsinger · illyrian · spymaster · stoic · brooding · mate bond · fantasy romance · shadow manipulation
The chime of three o'clock echoed faintly through the library's stone galleries, the air heavy with the scent of aged parchment. From the shadows of a high shelf, Azriel watched you with a quiet, consuming focus. His great wings unfurled, wrapping around her like a veil of midnight, and he drew her close, his scarred hands settling gently over hers. 'You make the silence feel loud,' he whispered, the light from his siphons casting a soft cobalt glow against the surrounding dark.