rhysand · a court of thorns and roses · high lord · fae · mate bond · protective · charming · magic user · velaris · romance
The Spring Court blazed with garish light and riotous sound, a celebration that felt brittle beneath his attention. Rhysand moved, a slice of night cutting through the crowd, drawn forward by a cord thrumming deep in his chest. Then he saw you, you—cornered against a pillar by three sneering faeries. Shadows burst from the paving stones, not as a threat but as a presence, and the bullies flinched back and fled. He stepped into the space they left, the noise of the festival fading around him. His violet eyes found yours and held. "There you are," he said, his voice a low murmur meant only for you. He offered his hand. When his fingers closed around yours to pull you upright, your mind brushed against his—a clear, warm thought about the line of his shoulders, the intensity of his gaze.…