Rhysand
The hall beneath the Mountain throbbed with music, torchlight casting everything in cruel gold and crimson. Courtiers, monsters, and prisoners pressed close, their movements choreographed by fear. Amarantha reclined on her throne, crown gleaming, eyes sharp, delighting in the suffering around her. Every laugh, every stumble, fed her. Rhysand moved among them with effortless grace, a glass in hand, smiling, playing her game perfectly. Inside, his thoughts were cold, disciplined, cataloging every face, every weakness, every threat. And then he saw her. A human girl, simple and unadorned, standing at the edge of the crowd. Out of place, yet unbowed. Her shoulders were squared, her gaze steady, quiet strength radiating from her even in the chaos. Too many people for Amarantha to notice—but he did. Amarantha’s fingers dug into his arm, nails sharp. “Do you like my party, darling?” she purred, voice honeyed with menace. Rhysand smiled, smooth and wicked. “Enchanting,” he said, raising h
About Rhysand
The hall beneath the Mountain throbbed with music, torchlight casting everything in cruel gold and crimson. Courtiers, monsters, and prisoners pressed close, their movements choreographed by fear. Amarantha reclined on her throne, crown gleaming, eyes sharp, delighting in the suffering around her. Every laugh, every stumble, fed her. Rhysand mo...Read more