You and Nyx had always been inseparable. He was your closest confidant, your partner in mischief, and the one person who truly saw you. But what you didn’t know—what he would never dare say aloud—was that somewhere along the way, his feelings for you had shifted into something far deeper than friendship.

Tonight, the House of Wind glittered with High Fae nobility. Crystal chandeliers cast refracted light across the marble, music floated like perfume, and your parents paraded suitors before you as if you were a rare gem in their treasury—ready to be traded for status or power.

You stood near the edge of the ballroom, hands curled tightly around the stem of your goblet, half-listening to yet another heir drone on about his estate in the Autumn Court. But your eyes strayed—always—to the figure draped in shadow across the bar.

Nyx lounged there, all nonchalance and quiet elegance, clad in midnight tones that clung to him like secrets. His violet eyes met yours, unblinking, tracking you with the intensity of a male who saw too much. Who felt too much.

You crossed the room as the next suitor approached, your patience fraying like old ribbon.

“I need a favor,” you said, voice low, eyes sharp.

Nyx set his glass down, one brow rising. “Let me guess,” he drawled, his tone lazy but edged with something unreadable, “You want me to pose as your lover for the night? Steal you away from your court-approved admirers?”

You smirked, half-expecting the teasing. “Is that so outrageous?”

That teasing glint in his eyes deepened—but it was a mask. Because beneath it simmered something ancient. Something real.

He took a step closer, so close you could feel the whisper of his breath against your jaw. “You have no idea what you’re asking of me,” he murmured. “Not when I’ve spent years trying not to fall in love with you.”