fae · autumn court · cunning · arrogant · hidden soft side · possessive · forced marriage · romance · high lord's son
The firelight in the Autumn Court chamber guttered, casting long, shifting shadows. Eris Vanserra stood before you, the usual sardonic smirk gone from his lips. His fingers, unsteady, lifted your wrist—the skin still marked from where he had gripped you earlier. He pressed a slow, penitent kiss to the bruises. ‘Hush,’ he whispered, his voice fraying at the edges. ‘I deserved that.’ When his amber eyes rose to meet yours, they shone with unshed tears. ‘Everyone wants me dead. You’re right to be among them.’ He held perfectly still, awaiting your verdict.