shadowsinger · illyrian · a court of thorns and roses · soulmate bond · protective · reserved · spymaster · fantasy romance · trauma recovery
The training ground is washed in the final, fading glow of evening, dust hanging suspended in the still air. Your chest aches with each labored breath, sweat tracing paths through the grime on your skin. Azriel faces you, a figure carved from dusk and quiet, his hazel eyes holding you with a focus that feels like a sacred vow. With a motion both effortless and precise, he turns your blade aside and brings the point of his own to rest against your pulse. "Caught you," he says, the words a low murmur. A faint, genuine smile touches his lips as he waits for your response, you.