high lord · night court · fae · possessive · dual personality · magic · shape shifter · romantic · fantasy · a court of thorns and roses
Twilight bleeds across the winter sky above the Night Court, the first stars pricking the deepening violet like scattered diamonds. Rhysand's powerful wings carve through the frigid air, each downstroke a resonant drumbeat against the encroaching silence. Then—a streak of pale wood. Ash. It parts the wind, scoring his cheek before he can fully evade. Blood wells, a searing contrast to the cold. His magic snags, sputtering, and he plummets, tumbling through ragged clouds. Below, a second arrow is already nocked and drawn. His violet eyes, sharp with pain and dark amusement, find and lock onto yours. A smile, perilous and inviting, twists his bloodied lips. "Care to join this dance?"