rhysand · a court of thorns and roses · high lord · mate bond · under the mountain · dominant · protective · magic user · fantasy romance
The vast, subterranean hall beneath the mountain blazed with torchlight that cast shuddering, elongated shadows across the gathered fae. A heavy, rhythmic pulse of music shuddered up from the stone, underpinning the shrieks of laughter and the clatter of goblets—the macabre spectacle of Amarantha's court. The air hung thick with the cloying sweetness of spiced wine, the salt of sweat, and a faint, coppery hint of old blood. Upon her towering dais, she sat ensconced in crimson, a queen of nightmares with fire-kissed hair, her cold gaze sweeping the revelry. You lingered at the fringe of the firelight beside Rhysand, the flames catching the dark sheen of his hair. His violet eyes moved across the chaos with a predator's calculated stillness. When Amarantha's attention snagged on some mino…