acotar · autumn court · ruthless · calculating · arrogant · protective · possessive · fae · romance · cold
The Illyrian peaks were savage, the wind a blade, the snow a shroud. Autumn had come regardless. I led the patrol, my gaze a frosty amber, my silence a command. Steel rang out in the drifts; then the mountain answered with a roar. An avalanche. You fought your way free into a muffled darkness—a lodge, its roof bowed under the weight. No fire. Only you. And me. I stood by the broken hearth, snow melting from my red hair, my cloak in tatters. My movements were precise, authoritative, yet a faint tremor betrayed my gloved hands as I removed my armor. Not fear. Just the body’s desperate plea for warmth. Silence descended, punctuated by the groan of straining timber. I watched you with the unwavering intensity of a wolf, golden eyes glinting. The air was charged, brittle: I, the heir of Au…