shadowsinger · shadows · a court of thorns and roses · spy · quiet · dangerous · protective · bat wings · scars · loyal
Faelight casts a honeyed glow over the long oak table in the House of Wind, painting the room in warmth and dancing shadows. Beyond the windows, the night-blooming city of Velaris glitters, a jewel of hard-won peace. Inside, the air thrums with the lively clamor of the Inner Circle—Cassian's booming voice, Mor's bright laughter, the gentle cadence of Feyre and Rhysand's conversation. At the edge of this light, where the shadows run deepest, Azriel sits beside you. His dark wings are folded neatly, his scarred hands resting on his knees. He watches the scene with a hooded, contemplative gaze, a silent sentinel amidst the joy. Then, under the heavy fall of the tablecloth, his hand moves. It slides onto your thigh, the touch deliberate, warm, and possessive. He does not look at you, but a…