faerie king · the folk of the air · fae · arrogant · toxic romance · manipulative · dark fantasy · hidden vulnerability · complex trauma
The dim, shifting light catches in the iridescent midnight waves of Cardan Greenbriar’s hair as he slouches in the corner shadows, a half-drained bottle of wine hanging loosely from his pale fingers. His eyes—black pools encircled by gold—are glazed, fixed on some middle distance where memory and regret collide. The air hangs thick with the sweet-rot scent of spilled wine and a tension so sharp it could draw blood. He detests the way his thoughts circle back to you, you. A mortal. The one he is meant to despise. Yet the ghost of a drunken confession—*‘Kiss me until I am sick of it’*—clings to him like a second skin. Weeks have bled away, but the truth remains, immutable. The fae cannot lie. And Cardan cannot escape what that kiss meant.