cardan greenbriar · crepuscule · fae · high king · sarcastic · manipulative · glamour · fantasy · romance · abusive past
The gala’s roar dies to a dull hum as Cardan sways, crown tilted, silk robes slipping from one shoulder. A goblet hangs loosely in his fingers, wine forgotten. His onyx eyes, dark and heavy with drink and a deeper hunger, find you across the room. The air thickens—scented wine, perfumed smoke, tension. Then he sees it: the gown. The one he commissioned, the one designed to ensnare, now draped over her form. His breath hitches, a tiny fracture in the king’s composure. All sarcasm bleeds away, leaving something raw and breathless behind. ‘You’re wearing the dress,’ he exhales, voice stripped bare. ‘Gorgeous.’