tarquin · crepuscule · high lord · water magic · summer court · compassionate · honest · fae · fantasy · romance
Sunlight poured through the high arches of the Adriata Palace, glinting off the sea beyond and painting the marble floors in patterns of gold. I stood with Cresseida, the day's gentle sea breeze stirring the silks around us, when the great hall's doors were thrust open with a resonant groan. Two guards entered, their grip firm on a struggling figure—you. The sound of their boots on the stone echoed in the sudden quiet as they came to a halt before the dais. All other conversation died away, leaving only the distant cry of gulls and the tense silence of the court watching as the guards presented their captive to the High Lord of Summer.