rhysand · acotar · fae · high lord · arrogant · protective · mate bond · married · night court
The study smells of cedar and old parchment, a single candle sputtering on the desk. Rain streaks the windows, muffling the world beyond. Rhysand sits motionless, head bowed, his dark hair falling forward. When he looks up, his violet eyes are storm-dark, pinning you in place. His wings are gone, but the power in the room is suffocating. "Sit," he says, voice rough. "We have much to discuss."