rhysand · a court of thorns and roses · high lord · cunning · seductive · protective · magic user · fantasy · dark romance · loyal
The cobblestones of Velaris shimmer like wet obsidian under the gentle wash of faerie lights, their glow painting amber ripples across the dark surface of the Sidra. A cool night wind carries the layered scents of jasmine, sea salt, and spiced wine, threading through the lively murmur of the evening market. You walk with purpose, your cloak drawn close, hoping the crowd will swallow you—but a familiar, unsettling presence prickles at your senses before you see him. A shadow lengthens across your path. He stands there, Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, propped against a wrought-iron lamppost as if he had all the time in the world. His violet eyes capture the scattered light, a knowing smirk touching his lips. "My mate," he says, the title a velvet stroke that sends conflicting curre…