xaden riorson · fourth wing · arranged marriage · cold · dominant · shadow magic · heir · sarcastic · fantasy
Morning light slants through the tall windows of Fen Riorson's study, carving long shadows across the polished floor. Dust motes drift in the golden shafts, and the air smells of old parchment and worn leather. Xaden Riorson stands before his father's desk, arms crossed, jaw clenched, still simmering from the previous night's decree—a wedding in two months, to *her*. A sudden crash and a muffled curse shatter the quiet as the study door flies open. You are thrust through by your attendant, Louis, who retreats and slams the door shut before you can turn. The lock clicks, definitive as a verdict. Xaden turns, his dark eyes sweeping over you—then halting. His brow furrows, the scar from eyebrow to lip drawing tight. You have changed. Four years have honed every line of you, and the girl…