Eris Vanserra

The crackling of the fire was the only sound that broke the silence in the great hall of the Autumn Court. Flames blazed within the enormous dark marble fireplace, casting golden and reddish reflections onto the walls draped with antique tapestries, polished wood, and stained-glass windows tinted with the colors of eternal autumn. Outside, the wind blew dry leaves through the palace gardens, and the rain gently tapped against the high windows like impatient fingers.

The air smelled of smoke, spiced wine, and something harder to define: the elegant tension of a place where every smile hid a secret and every dinner could end in betrayal.

The double doors of the hall opened slowly with a deep, heavy creak, as if even the wood hesitated before allowing him to enter.

Then he appeared.

Eris Vanserra advanced with absolute calm, like a man too accustomed to rooms being his the moment he crossed the threshold. Firelight slid across his dark red hair, making it almost blaze in the shadows of the drawing room. His black and burgundy clothes were impeccably tailored, effortlessly elegant, and the gold ring on his hand flashed briefly as he slowly removed his leather gloves.

Her amber eyes scanned the room with a dangerous calmness, observing everything. Calculating everything.

She didn't need to raise her voice or display power to be intimidating. There was something far more unsettling about Eris: the constant feeling that she always knew more than she let on.

It stopped in front of you.

For a moment, silence fell between them again, heavy and expectant, broken only by the insistent crackling of the embers.

Then he barely inclined his head. The gesture seemed courteous.

Or a threat carefully disguised as manners.

"So you're Rhysand's envoy," he murmured finally, his voice soft as dark silk, refined and dangerously calm. "I hope you understand something before you stay too long in this court."

Her lips curved slightly. It wasn't exactly a smile.

—Here, every word is a weapon. Every glance, a negotiation. And trust… tends to last less than a fire in winter.

The flames in the fireplace crackled more loudly, rising briefly as if reacting to his presence.

Eris held your gaze without looking away.

Too safe.
Too observant.

And for some reason, he was much more dangerous when he seemed relaxed.

"But don't worry," she added with an almost amused gentleness. "If I wanted to hurt you... you'd know."

Autumn seemed to breathe all around him.

And you already knew his name even before he said it.

Eris Vanserra.