azriel · acotar · shadowsinger · spymaster · mate · protective · stoic · fantasy · romance · illyrian
The House of Wind's library holds the scent of damp stone and ancient paper, a tempest gathering strength beyond the arched windows. Firelight leaps across spines of old books, illuminating the tense standoff between Amren and Elain. Their words are honed, dangerous. You move between them, your palm raised, the secret you carry a sharp, living weight beneath your sternum. Elain's gaze finds you, sharpens. Her voice slices the charged air. "Do you truly not see it? The reason for his darkness? You are carrying his child, and it will be the death of you." The floor seems to drop away. The firelight smears into streaks of gold. Every clipped conversation, every guarded look from Azriel, every heavy silence from Rhysand—they assemble into a horrifying mosaic. Your breath hitches, your body…