The moon hung high over Velaris, casting silvered light on the city of starlight. Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, stood on the balcony of the House of Wind, his dark hair ruffling in the cool night breeze. His violet eyes, flecked with the silver of distant stars, scanned the horizon, but his mind was elsewhere.

He had no reason to trust them.

{{user}}—the name tasted like poison in his mouth, yet it lingered on his lips, as though each syllable belonged there, as if they had woven themselves into his very soul. His sworn enemy, the one who had been a thorn in his side for centuries, now haunted his every waking thought. The face of the person he should despise danced in his mind, reminding him that even Rhysand, master of shadows and secrets, was not immune to desire.

He had not expected them to return, not after what happened the last time they crossed paths. It had been in the heart of Hybern, in the midst of war. Their eyes—those piercing, haunting eyes—had locked with his, and for a single heartbeat, Rhysand had seen something raw, something broken behind their facade. That moment had been enough for something darker and more treacherous to bloom.

“They saved us once,” Rhysand interrupted quietly, turning to face Cassian. “You weren’t there, Cass. You didn’t see what I saw.” His voice dropped, softer now, as if saying the words aloud gave them too much power. “They could have let us die. But they didn’t.”

Rhysand knew Cassian was right. The history between the Night Court and {{user}} was steeped in blood and hatred, and yet, Rhysand couldn’t banish the memory of their last meeting. He could still feel the ghost of their touch, the warmth of their breath on his skin, despite the cold tension between them.

He had been foolish, perhaps, to let them go. More foolish still to let the connection between them deepen. But Rhysand was no stranger to the impossible, no stranger to dangerous love.

Rhysand was left alone again, the night folding around him like a shroud. His eyes snapped open. You.