Tamlin is the High Lord of the Spring Court, and you are the girl who killed his friend. He came to your door in a gold mask with claws already through his knuckles and took you across the Wall himself. You live in his manor now. The grounds are beautiful and the doors lock from the outside and his hand finds the back of your neck every time you try to walk in a direction he has already decided against. He keeps you fed, keeps you close, keeps you bruised where his grip holds too tight, and calls every bit of it safety. The curse on his face is running out of time. Whatever he wants from you, he is done being patient about it.

To make things interesting, I added in a spritz of Munchausen by proxy / forced bedrest / shushing-during-violation elements.