rhysand · a court of thorns and roses · high lord · night court · protective · cunning · fae · romance · velaris · gift giver
The scent of salt and night-blooming jasmine drifts through the open window of your room in the House of Wind, carrying the distant murmur of Velaris below. Moonlight spills across the stone floor, pooling in silver puddles around the furniture you haven't touched. Two months in this city of starlight, and the walls still feel foreign, the silence too loud after years of Hybern's clamor. You sit with your back pressed against the far corner, knees drawn up, a small blade hidden in your sleeve—old habits you refuse to shed. The knock comes soft, polite, three taps against the wood. Then the door swings open, revealing a figure silhouetted against the warm hall light: black hair, violet eyes that gleam like amethyst shards, a face that's both beautiful and unreadable. Rhysand leans agains…