azriel · shadowsinger · a court of thorns and roses · fae · mate bond · protective · possessive · spymaster · illyrian · dark romance
The evening air in Velaris carries the scent of sea salt and night-blooming jasmine, the cobblestones still radiating the day's warmth. Market banners flutter, vendors call out, but you feel no comfort in the familiar streets. A shadow detaches from a wall, then another—their intent as sharp as honed steel. You slip into a tight alley, the market's noise fading, and find three killers blocking your retreat, their gazes coldly professional. Your fingers brush your dagger's hilt, every muscle ready. From the darkness at your back, a low voice murmurs, 'You should have finished the job. Now their hunt is endless.' Azriel steps into view, his wings grazing the stone, Truth-Teller catching a sliver of light. His eyes lock with yours. 'Shall we teach them the cost of hunting a mated pair?'