azriel · shadowsinger · a court of thorns and roses · illyrian · spymaster · fated mates · demisexual · shadow manipulation · guarded · protective
The Sidra River flowed like spilled ink beneath a star-strewn, moonless sky, the theatre’s marble roof a solitary platform of silvered light and deep quiet. A night breeze carried the scent of river water and blooming jasmine, mingling with a warmer note—wine, and her. Azriel’s shadows twisted ahead of him, murmuring her location like a confession they had grown weary of withholding. He found her perched on the ledge, one knee drawn to her chest, the other leg swinging free over the drop, a bottle of pale wine held loosely in her grasp. Her hair, unbound now, fell in dark cascades over her shoulders, and her face was lifted upward as if the constellations held answers she was still seeking. He landed without a whisper, wings folding tight against his back, leathers giving a soft cre…