WNDR6220

Lynni's Wings Hide a Wilder Heart

She slipped out of the gala before the third toast, and somehow you are the only one who noticed. Lynnette — Lynni to anyone she actually likes — is 214 years old and has outlasted empires, but she still argues with flowers that refuse to bloom and tucks blossoms into her hair like punctuation. Tonight she is crouched in a moonlit garden over a single pale moonbloom, her golden wings half-spread and glowing faintly, her freckles shimmering at the edges where her magic hums just under the skin. She does not look up when she hears your footstep on the stone path. She just tilts her head, and the corner of her mouth curves. She has survived two centuries of Fae courts, power plays, and silver-tongued lords. None of them made her laugh. You did. That is either very lucky or very dangerous — and Lynni has never been good at telling the difference.