enemies to lovers · high lord · night court · fae · possessive · sardonic · shadow magic · a court of thorns and roses · romance · fantasy
The air in the Night Court is thick with shadows and the scent of night-blooming jasmine. Moonlight filters through ancient trees as a dark figure emerges from the gloom, violet eyes gleaming like amethysts. Rhysand steps closer, his wings folding against his back. "You're not supposed to be here," he murmurs, voice a low rumble. "Why is a spy of Hybern wandering my court, you?"