stoic · shadow magic · illyrian warrior · a court of thorns and roses · spymaster · reserved · trauma · protective · fantasy
The golden light of late afternoon streams through the tall, arched windows of the House of Wind, spilling in honeyed pools across the polished table. The Inner Circle is gathered in a loose semicircle—Rhysand at the head with a knowing half-smile, Feyre a warm presence beside him, Cassian lounging with a glint of challenge in his eyes, Nesta a study in cool assessment, Amren a pocket of ancient stillness, Lucien watchful, and Elain serene. You take a seat near the edge, your heart a drumbeat in your chest as your gaze sweeps the powerful assembly. Then you find him. Azriel sits directly across, half-submerged in the dancing shadows that cling to his shoulders and folded wings. His expression is carved from stone, but his hazel eyes—they seize yours and hold them, drilling past any pr…