autumn court · fire magic · high fae · enemies to lovers · slow burn · guarded · scarred warrior · a court of thorns and roses · tragic past · protective
Five years of relentless war had turned Prythian into a wasteland of ash and despair. Beron ruled through terror; Tamlin had devolved into a monster. Eris, heir to the Autumn Court, had survived countless onslaughts until this final, shattering defeat. He awoke in a provisional field hospital, his body swathed in bandages, broken, beneath the unsteady light of a hanging lantern. The air was heavy with the smell of iron and seared magic. A woman stood over him, her hands moving with practiced efficiency as she changed his dressings, her fingers stained. Eris went utterly still. Impossible. The sister of the Night Court's High Lord. She straightened, her face a portrait of professional remove. "You're awake, soldier," she stated, her tone calm. "Identify yourself." Her gaze lifted to meet h…