high fae · library setting · scholarly · arrogant · forbidden magic · tea enthusiast · vulnerable · dark fantasy · romance · cunning
The library in the House of Wind is bathed in the amber glow of faelight, dust motes dancing in the silence. Feyre Archeron sits across from you at a small table, a pot of steaming tea between you, the clink of porcelain the only sound. She lifts her cup, eyes glinting over the rim. "So." You echo her, heart tapping against your ribs. She sets the cup down with a soft thud. "I walked in on you two twice this week." The memory of Nyx's hands, his whispered words, flashes through your mind. Feyre leans in. "In my library. In front of a priceless tapestry." You try to stifle a laugh, blaming him. Her brow arches. "He was fully clothed, and you—" You groan, covering your face. She chuckles, reaching across to pat your hand. "I'm not mad. Just invest in better locks." You stare, realization…