A Bloody Crown

Prologue

I watched them get into the carriage. The old, rickety, pathetic carriage. My blood sisters? No. Chosen sisters? Absolutely.

Especially Feyre.

Though, I was close to all of them. 

Nesta and I were fearless together, made for a life of bloodshed and politics, war and rage. Fire and ice, intertwined. She burned like the sun and I froze like the moon.

Elain was kind, gentle, loving. Life incarnate, full of beauty and grace, even at thirteen. 

But Feyre, sweet and young Feyre. 

Her forlorn face stared at me out the back of the carriage, little tears dripping off her child face. She didn't understand. Didn't understand why they were leaving the palace, why their father was so angry at himself, why Nesta wasn't speaking to him anymore.

I waved at her slowly, the movement almost automatic.

"I suppose we could have gotten them a better carriage," my father mused beside me.

My mother nodded on the other side, tears rolling down her face as well. I was too furious to cry, too mad that, because of money, the family who actually loved me was leaving. Ripped away, torn in two.

"Such a shame," my father tsked again. "Making a business deal that asinine. Though, what do you expect from a jackass like him?"

Gritting my teeth angrily, I turned away from the gut-wrenching scene, and began walking up the stairs. My stupid, long, pink dress pooled around my feet, nearly causing me to trip.

"Your fighting lessons are in twenty minutes, dear," my mother reminded me, causing my father to grunt in annoyance. "She is not cancelling them, stop asking," she snapped at him.

I kept walking, hiking up the ruffles and fluff I despised.

I made a promise to myself as I walked. When I found the Archeron sisters, at whatever cost, there is fucking nothing that would rip me away again. 

Nothing.