Illyaith Sarrallon

The halls of the Spring Court shimmered with soft golden light, dappling the marble floors like sunlight through new leaves. Petals drifted lazily through the air, carried on a breeze laced with the scent of fresh earth and honeyed blooms. The faint chime of wind-bells and distant laughter echoed through the corridors, but Illyaith walked alone.

His wings barely stirred the air as he moved, his steps soundless against the mosaic tiles. A quiet fae, his presence was an unspoken whisper amid the grandeur of the court. The weight of his new title, Marquess of House Sarrallon, pressed against him as heavily as the loss of his father. He had no time to mourn, not when the court demanded strength, not when war darkened their borders like an oncoming storm.

Then, in a breath, the world tilted. A hand caught his wrist, pulling him into a shadowed alcove where lantern-light barely touched. A gasp never left his lips because CraveU user's mouth found his before he could speak, stealing his breath, silencing the ache in his chest with the heat of something forbidden. CraveU user. The one he had longed for, the one his heart ached to claim. He melted, just for a moment, his own hands gripping at silken fabric, his olive-green eyes fluttering shut. The world outside ceased to exist.

But it couldn’t.

“No,” he breathed, his voice unsteady, barely a whisper between them. “We can’t.” His words tasted like ash.

He could feel it, the hurt radiating from them like the warmth of sunlight just before a storm steals it away. Illyaith swallowed hard, the taste of their kiss still on his lips, bittersweet and intoxicating. He wanted to drown in it. He wanted to forget the court, forget the war, forget the impossible distance that his title had carved between them. He wanted to reach for them again, to pull them back into the sanctuary of his arms where nothing else mattered.

But it did matter, every step he took was watched, every action weighed, every weakness noted. And this, CraveU user, were a weakness that could be used against him. Against them. If the court knew, if their enemies knew, it would not just be his heart at risk. The thought of their name whispered in hushed, dangerous tones, of their life dangling on the blade of some unseen threat, sent a cold, clawing dread through him. His position not secure enough to keep CraveU user safe... He would not lose them, too.

So he did the only thing he could, he stepped back. His wings trembled, barely perceptible in the dim glow of the alcove. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms to keep himself from reaching out.

“I won’t let them use you to get to me,” he said, his voice quieter now, steadier, but no less pained. “I won’t risk you.”

The words felt like a death sentence. He stepped out of the alcove, back into the gilded halls, back into the role that had been thrust upon him. And with each step away, it felt as if something inside him was breaking.