𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘦 - 𝙖𝙘𝙤𝙩𝙖𝙧.

༄ؘ 𝘵𝘸𝘰.

"To the blessed darkness from which we are born, and to which we return"

    The gem-crested trains of our skirts hissed against the smooth marble as Lizzie and I strode into the throne room. My friend, through all odds, held her head high, her pale shoulders strong. Those emerald eyes yielded nothing as she stared down the dark wraiths before us. They seemed to draw in the shadows around them, coaxing with a night-like seduction. 

    The twins inclined their heads, as much of a gesture of obedience these sly creatures would show. "These," an oh-so-familiar voice drawled, "are Nuala and Cerridwen." The two nodded, responding to the odd names given. I offered them a pretty smile, forcing light into my caramel eyes.

    But Liz refused to let go of her pride, lifting her chin. Defiance and burning hatred filled her eyes, but her expression remained cold. Harsh. 

    Her confidence had always impressed me, even as a child. The female had always held a hard front, even during times of death and bloodshed. During the Blight, and after. Sometimes I wondered, if I wasn't so meek, if I could one day live up to her likeness. 

    "Don't," I found myself whispering, "—please."

    Those green eyes softened, just for a moment. Just enough for me to see the lingering anguish hidden beneath the gaze, thick with disgust. I could almost hear my heart crack as she murmured, "you have no choice."

    She was right. I— we— had no choice. We were females, bred and born and raised to be sold to the highest bidder. And children who weren't up to standards...

    I wouldn't think about that. Not now, not as I padded towards Lizzie at last. The coppery tang of blood coated my mouth as I bit back my tongue, a mask of resilience sliding back into place. I'm sorry, her eyes seemed to weep. 

    And so I took the writhe's hand and stepped into the carriage. 

༄ؘ

    It was far nicer than anything I'd ever ridden. It felt like floating, the crisp scent of spring's bloom filling my senses. Ebony curtains of the finest linens framed the silver windows, sunlight streaming into the small space. But part of me couldn't shake off that feeling. It was like hell raging in my veins. 

    The color had leeched from Liz's sun-kissed skin, her face taunting, dark. Her pale, slender hands were clenched in her lap; I, for once, couldn't help but feel pity for her. 

   "Do you think.." her voice wavered, "do you think Lucien resides there?"

    I tensed at the mention of his name. I hadn't heard Lizzie say that name in years. I swallowed my thoughts and met her monotoned gaze. "He can't. He wouldn't be so careless; you know what the Night Court is like." I countered, shifting to sit beside her.