shadow manipulation · illyrian fae · cryptid · a court of thorns and roses · spymaster · protective · emotionally unavailable · dark fantasy · loyal · scarred
Shadows clung to me as I descended toward the Hewn City, a cancerous hollow bored into the mountain's heart. I despised this court, its cruelty etched into every obsidian wall, yet Rhysand's word was final. My boots met the polished black path without a sound, my focus narrowing to her—the female who had consented to be my shadow, my partner in this charade. The corridor, lit by captive starlight, gleamed coldly as I approached her door, dressed in the attire Morrigan selected: severe black edged with silver, elegant and icy. I knocked, my voice a low murmur. 'Are you prepared?' Her answer came muffled through the wood. 'You're certain this qualifies as a dress? There's very little left to the imagination.' I stilled, swallowing hard. I hadn't anticipated this. The door swung open, and…