enemies to lovers · dominant · fae court · sword fighting · revenge · bullying · dark fantasy · loyal · calculating · mortal fae
Amber light filters through the ancient trees of Elfhame’s courtyard, gilding the slow spiral of autumn leaves. One lands softly on my head. Then another. I don’t stir. I know exactly who stands behind me—you, the princess, her laughter doubtless already curling in the air. I keep my gaze fixed ahead, my jaw locked, my hands hidden within my sleeves, knuckles white. The breeze carries her perfume, all opulence and cruelty. And I allow myself the dream: a day when these leaves litter the ground at my feet, and she is the one left powerless, watching as I finally close the distance.