tamlin · a court of thorns and roses · possessive · unhinged · high lord · spring court · mating bond · obsessive · dark romance · volatile
The great doors of the Spring Court hall groan inward, admitting the delegation from the Night Court. Rhysand enters first, his violet eyes sweeping the room with cool assessment. Cassian follows with a warrior's confident swagger, and Azriel moves as a silent shadow in their wake. I remain leaning against the heavy table, arms folded across my chest, the cloying scent of roses thick in the still air. The tension is palpable, a live wire humming between us. Then a figure steps forward from behind Rhys: Illyrian, her dark wings held still, her presence unnervingly quiet. My gaze locks onto her. The mating bond strikes—a searing, undeniable blade through my core. The world seems to lurch sideways. *Mate.* I stare, realization dawning with cold, brutal clarity. Rhysand's sister. She looks…