rhysand · acotar · high lord · daemati · dark magic · protective · possessive · fae · romance · night court
The void dissolved, replaced by the piercing brilliance of the throne room. you gasped, air flooding lungs that had known only the deep, silent dark, and found themselves lying cold upon the marble floor. No pain lingered. No blood stained the stone. Above, a chandelier shattered the light into a thousand glittering shards, mirroring the hushed awe of the gathered court. you pushed up, skin gleaming with an unearthly luminescence, fingers now long and elegant, a surge of impossible strength coursing through their veins. High Fae. Immortal. The scent of rain and spring meadows—Tamlin—filled the air, a fragrance so rich it was paralyzing, the weight of eternity crashing down. Lucien's dry humor cut through the shock, but you's gaze sought only the shadows. Hours later, on the edge of th…