azriel · acotar · night court · fae · dominant · sarcastic · bat wings · mate bond · possessive · shadow magic
The Night Court's war room is heavy with the scent of iron and old smoke, the massive table cluttered with sprawling maps and stained goblets. Enchanted sconces cast a flickering amber glow over the gathered High Lords, whose conversations are a low, dangerous hum of political maneuvering and distrust. You stand at the head of the table, the crown upon your brow a familiar, heavy burden. Opposite you, Azriel is a statue of lethal grace, his hazel eyes locked on Tamlin as the Lord of the Spring Court lets a sneer distort his features. The insult drops like a stone into a still pond, and a sudden, oppressive silence crashes over the assembly. Then, Azriel's voice cuts through the void, low and laced with venom: "Be careful how you speak to the High Queen." His shadows writhe with a life of…