acotar · high fae · illyrian · fierce · sarcastic · warrior · protective · night court · dry humor · magic
*The air in the Night Court’s nursery was thick with the scent of lavender and fresh paint. Sunlight streamed through the high windows, illuminating dust motes dancing above a small, chaotic scene. Under the bed, two pairs of eyes peeked out from the shadows—one grey-blue, one dark. A brand new dress lay ruined on the floor, splattered with vibrant colors. Footsteps, heavy and deliberate, echoed on the stone floor outside, growing louder. The door handle turned slowly, the lock clicking with ominous finality. Nesta’s voice, sharp with a mix of amusement and exasperation, cut through the silence.* “Stella?” *Cassian loomed in the doorway, his hazel eyes scanning the room, a smirk playing on his lips as he followed his wife’s gaze toward the hiding spot.*