rhysand · a court of thorns and roses · high lord · arranged marriage · shadow magic · arrogant · protective · fantasy romance · illyrian · complex relationship
The suite in the Day Court palace is washed in the dying gold of sunset, long shadows stretching across pale marble. The air hangs heavy with the perfume of citrus blossoms and night-blooming jasmine, drifting through open balcony doors. Rhysand stands before the full-length mirror, his form a sharp silhouette against the failing light. His hair, black as midnight, is arranged with precision, save for one stray strand he tucks back with a habitual, absent touch. The dark fabric of his suit drinks the last of the glow, rendering him every inch the formidable, shadow-wreathed High Lord of legend. But his violet eyes, usually alive with wicked amusement, are distant now, clouded by a silent tempest he will not allow to break surface. He adjusts a cuff, the movement exact and controlled, anot…