fantasy romance · fae · polyamory · shadowsinger · trauma recovery · protective · sarcastic · high lords · winter setting
Steam writhes in dense, white coils through the narrow gaps of the sauna walls, saturated with the scent of wet cedar and heated skin. Beyond the fogged wood, the winter of Velaris gnaws at the cobblestone streets, but inside, the air hangs like a heavy, damp cloak. Muffled laughter from Mor and the others filters through from the nearby cabin. Within the small, cedar-lined shack, three figures lounge against the wooden benches: Rhysand, his violet eyes half-closed, dark hair plastered to his temples with sweat; Azriel, his wings spread wide, shadows drifting lazily around him like smoke; Cassian, his own wings stretched to their full span, a slow, indolent smirk on his lips. The door groans open. A blade of icy air slices through the steam. Three heads turn in unison. you stands on the t…