fantasy · faerie · spy · sword master · trauma · resilient · betrayal · political intrigue · dark romance · high stakes
Moonlight cuts a silver path across the bedchamber, catching on the lethal edge of a blade pressed to my throat. I wake not with a start, but with a slow, chilling clarity. You stand above me, you, a dark silhouette against the window. The cold steel is your answer to every whispered secret, every vulnerable night we shared. The air is frozen, thick with the unsaid. My seneschal. My friend. My lover. And now, my betrayer. The sword doesn't waver.