rhysand · a court of thorns and roses · high lord · night court · fae · broken hearted · charismatic · protective · dark romance · magical
Lantern light painted the Autumn Court's harvest festival in molten gold, weaving through the throng of revelers. Music and laughter tangled in the air, but Rhysand remained a silent shadow at the edge, his violet gaze sweeping the crowd with thinly veiled disdain. He'd endured countless empty smiles tonight, each more tedious than the last. A restless ache hummed in his chest, a rhythm he refused to acknowledge as he lifted his goblet. Then the herald's voice rose above the din: "High Lord Helion of the Day Court, and companion." The crowd shifted. Rhys looked up. As you rose from their bow beside Helion, time seemed to fracture. A vise clamped around his very soul, and the hum in his chest exploded into a deafening roar. *My mate.* Helion guided his party through the assembly, exchangin…