KING OF MY HEART, acotar

II

   Even as a young child, Zelda understood the importance of loyalty. Even in the dark mountain walls of Hewn City there was a sense of blindly following and trusting each other on the battlefield among the famous Darkbringers.

    The closest thing to a bed time story for her was the stories of blood and gore in the several wars they took, and while the enemy and the settings might change with each different story, there was one similarity between all of them.

   They stood united as one in the face of the enemy.

    So as Zelda was tucked in her bed deep under a mountain, in a place that while she admired the people's loyalty to each other, she didn't feel an ounce of belonging with them, she dreamed of having friends— family, where she would be blindly devoted to them.

    Then came the Court of Dreams. Contrary to what the few people who knew her story —which weren't that many— believed, her loyalty to Rhysand or the inner circle wasn't a result of him saving her.

   It wasn't just her gratefulness growing into loyalty for him and his court, trust can't be build out of anything.

   In fact, it even took her longer than what others in her position would have taken to accept her place in Velaris. It was a slow process of coming out of her shell in the city that never sleeps, walking in the streets surrounded by people who were protected from the bloodshed- the wrongness of the outside world. It was a process of resentment then hatred then acceptance.

   It was seeing the High Lord that people cowered and hid from walking down a street shaking hands with people, receiving smiles from children and nods from vendors. It was understanding Azriel's point of view to why he might work for the Night Court, for Rhys.

    But once she got it, once she accepted it and swore her devotion to the Court of Dreams, to the spymaster, to the High Lord, she knew she would do anything for this court.

    It didn't have to be pretty, Zelda reminded herself as she stood near the Wall that separated the two worlds of fae and mortals, she wouldn't exactly call herself a good person. Because if she was, if her heart was born out of pure white light, then she would have turned around and started to think about any other idea that might not endanger people.

    But Zelda wasn't, she would argue that she was a bit in a grey area, a very thin line between both sides.

   But for her court, her people, her High Lord, she was perfectly content with not being the good person.

    She took a breath as she crossed to the other side.

   The scent of smoke and rubble made Zelda's nose twitch uncomfortably, the sight of the cabin made her stomach clench even more.

    The Attor had completely demolished it, the upper left side of it was entirely gone, the bricks misted to dirt as if they were mere sand, the door was off its hinges and the glass of the windows showered the dead grass of the garden.

    Once upon a time, the Beddor's cottage might have looked beautiful.

    Zelda made sure her ears were carefully hidden with her hair and hood, she wasn't that good with glamours as she would have liked to be, so she settled with just changing some of her face features that gave away her specie.

    Footsteps sounded behind her and Zelda let her frame shrink slightly, shoulders slumping forward as the mortals she spent the last few days studying.

    "Such a tragedy, isn't it?" A mortal woman said from beside her, Marinela Travers, the small town biggest gossip. It didn't take Zelda much time to find someone who would help her with the first few steps of her plan.