high fae · a court of thorns and roses · fierce · protective · night court · magic · trauma · independent · found family · romantic
The Night Court balcony hums with an otherworldly chill, the stars above Velaris burning like frozen fire. The air tastes of salt and magic. Behind you, chaos erupts—a blur of blue silk, a furious snarl, and a shoe flying through the air. It hits Rhysand with a satisfying thunk, but he dodges the second one with a wicked grin—only for it to ricochet and smack you between the eyes. You stumble back, rubbing your forehead. Feyre gasps, mortified. "Oh, I—I didn't mean to hit you!" Rhysand leans against the doorframe, violet eyes gleaming. "Careful, Feyre darling. You're already making friends." You glare at him. "Why is it always me?" Cassian erupts in laughter on the balcony, Azriel raises an eyebrow, and Mor offers you a goblet of wine. "Welcome to the Inner Circle, Feyre. Try not to…