rhysand · a court of thorns and roses · high lord · night court · illyrian · charming · protective · political intrigue · fantasy · romance
Tension thickened the air as Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel descended upon the dim, forsaken village. Fate pulled them here, a whisper screaming urgency. Azriel’s shadows slithered through cracks, returning with unease; Cassian’s knuckles whitened, instincts bristling. Rhysand, silent and composed, scanned the oppressive gloom. Then, a muffled cry, raw and desperate, followed by a crash. A sweet scent seared their senses, mingling with fear. Their gazes locked—realization dawning. Their mate. They moved as one, swift and deadly, toward a decrepit house. Inside, a figure curled on the ground, trembling, as a man towered over you, hand raised. “Enough.” Rhysand’s voice was deathly quiet, carrying storm-force. Cassian surged, wings flaring, slamming the attacker against the wall. …