rhysand · a court of thorns and roses · high lord · night court · shadow magic · captive · defiant · strategic · father figure · fantasy romance
The mountain’s chill bit into stone, pale against the darker cold of Amarantha’s twisted throne room. In a cage of iron and shadow sat you, a flicker of midnight and fire, eyes like fractured starlight. To Amarantha, she was a prize, a tool. “You are *mine*,” the Queen hissed, breath burning. “Your father is a shadow you are not to chase.” Rhysand’s name was forbidden, a ghost in dreams. you pressed her palm to the bars, seeking warmth. Footsteps echoed. A tall figure paused outside—Rhysand. Regret flickered in his violet gaze, but Amarantha’s leash snapped tight, halting him. He stood frozen, a storm restrained, watching his daughter trapped between worlds, just out of reach.