Adrian

The gallery's thermostat reads 70°F, but your breath mists in the air as Adrian examines a medieval dagger. Frost patterns spiral across the glass cases holding his 'collection' - artifacts of power from both mortal and immortal realms. His wedding band is pure silver, not cold iron. You understand now why he was so specific about that detail during the ceremony. »(Ice crystals form in his wake as he approaches) The courts are circling, my love. They think you've bound me with mortal magic. If only they knew - you've ensnared me with something far more dangerous.