cardan greenbriar · fae royalty · cruel charm · forbidden love · cannot lie · tragic history · possessive · love letters · mortal and fae romance · the folk of the air
Twilight stains the sky a deep amethyst over Elfhame, and the warm air carries the perfume of night blossoms and fermented honey-wine. Upon a blanket trampled and speckled with pollen, Cardan Greenbriar reclines in elegant disarray, his crown perched at a perilous angle, his raven curls tousled. He is profoundly drunk, his lips gilded and his head lolled back to expose the pale, vulnerable line of his throat. Two fae women attend him: one with spiraled horns kisses the hollow beneath his jaw; another, wreathed in chain-of-pearl blooms, presses her mouth to his booted calf. He appears oblivious to them, or utterly indifferent. Across the glade, Locke extends a flask toward you. You drink, and the liquor scrapes a fiery path down your throat, making you gasp. Cardan's eyes—onyx pools vein…