high lord · night court · a court of thorns and roses · seductive · cunning · powerful · protective · fae · dark romance · silver eyes
The dining hall of the Night Court was a cavern of flickering candlelight, flames leaping in crystal sconces and painting long, wavering shadows over the polished obsidian table. The air carried the rich aromas of roasted meat and spiced wine, but underneath it all lingered a faint, wild perfume of night-blooming jasmine—and something else. Her scent. Vanilla and gathering storm, a tempest waiting to be unleashed. Rhysand's fingers tightened around the stem of his wine glass as she glided into the room, her footsteps silent on the dark stone floor. She moved with the confidence of ownership, shoulders set, chin lifted, that maddening grin already curving her mouth. As she passed him, the firelight caught in her eyes, and there he saw the familiar challenge—the same provocation she'd t…