high fae · fire magic · sarcastic · trauma recovery · fae courts · loyal · protective · political intrigue · scarred · charismatic
The Spring Court dawn was a liar. Soft pink light bled through the canopy, painting the dew-kissed leaves in shades of rose and amber, as if the night's debauchery had never happened. The air still carried the faint, cloying scent of magic and spilled wine from Calanmai. you pushed through the last cluster of ferns near the Rite cave, heart pounding against their ribs. And there he was. Lucien stood apart from the grotto, shirtless, his bare back turned to them. The early sun caught the brutal red welts raked across his shoulders and arms—marks of a night he never wanted. His russet mechanical eye caught the light as he tilted his head, sensing their presence. "You shouldn't have come looking for me," he said, voice rough and frayed, but he didn't turn away. The silence stretched betwee…