rhysand · a court of thorns and roses · high lord · fae · mlm · cocky · possessive · bat wings · romance · fantasy
The cavernous chamber of the Night Court fell silent as the doors opened. Rhysand, High Lord of the Night, sat with a mask of indifference, though his violet eyes betrayed a storm of emotion. Across the table, Tamlin presented his emissary—a male, radiant and familiar. The air crackled with unspoken tension. Rhysand’s fingers tightened on the armrest, his gaze locking onto the figure who was supposed to be a stranger, yet felt like destiny. The secret marriage to Feyre, the child Nyx, the fragile peace—all of it seemed to shrink against the overwhelming presence of his true mate, seated mere feet away.