𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

Lion's Mane

Serafina Hale stood in front of the mirror, her long figure taking up most of the glass. She had always been tall, too tall. Her arms too long, her hair too big, her skin too brown.

Her eyes too purple.

She had always been too much. Too loud, too obnoxious, too unladylike.

"You'll never catch a husband that way, Serafina." Her Aunt Gladys had told her on more than one occasion. Aunt Gladys was bent on finding Sera a husband, she had been since she had taken charge of her ten years ago.

Now at age twenty-two, Sera was still unmarried and Aunt Gladys was at her wits end.

"I don't want a husband, husbands are boring and suffocating." Sera had retorted.
"How would you know? You've never had one before."
"I've seen husbands. Lorena Marshal's husband forced her to have three children in less than four years. She hardly has any time to visit because she's always caring for those little monsters. If that's not suffocating, I don't know what is."

Aunt Gladys had shook her head in disappointment. "Don't call children monsters, Serafina. There are worse monsters than a toddler."

"Yes, a man. A husband is far worse than a child."

Sera grabbed the brush from her bed and raked it through her curls. The bristles did nothing but make her hair frizzy and with an exasperated sigh she threw the brush out the open window.

Her hair would just have to remain as is. "A wild lion's mane," Aunt Gladys had called it. "Something that could not be tamed."

Sera sometimes wondered if she was actually referring to her hair or her as a person.

"Serafina! We must make haste!" Elsabeth, Sera's younger cousin, called from the bottom of the stairs. "The party has already started and I do not want to be any later than we already are!"

Elsabeth was Sera's opposite. She, like her mother, was obsessed with the idea of catching a husband and raising a house full of children.

Sera would rather die. She hated being shown off like a prized horse. She would rather ride the horse than be the horse. She would rather spend her days in the woods in a pair of her uncles breeches and boots.

She pinned back the front few curls and wrapped a string of pearls around her neck before running her hand down her dress.

Sera descended the stairs shortly after, nearly tripping over the hem of her skirts. Elsabeth and Aunt Gladys waited at the bottom, a look of equal horror on their faces.

"Did you not brush your hair?" Elsabeth burst out.
Sera shrugged. "I tried, but it only made it worse so I threw the brush out the window."
Her cousin's mouth opened and shut like a fish out of water before she spun around to her mother.

Aunt Gladys shook her head disapprovingly. "Must you embarrass us every chance you get?"
"Father would've laughed," Sera mumbled under her breath, slipping on her cloak.
"Well, your father isn't here. This behavior must end, Serafina. You will-"

"Never catch a husband this way. Yes, I know. Do you ever think that maybe I don't want a husband?" She slid into the farthest corner of the carriage.

Aunt Gladys and Elsabeth sat across from her. "Don't be ridiculous, you don't want to be a spinster, do you?"

She shrugged. "It doesn't sound too bad."
"If you don't want a husband, why do you come to these events?" Her cousin demanded, a scowl on her otherwise pretty face.

Elsabeth was the kind of girl men always fawned over. She was every part a lady, well versed, quiet, polite. She always knew what to say, what not to say.

It drove Sera mad how her aunt was always telling she needed to be more like her cousin. If she was more like her she would've already been married by now.

"I like the food." Sera snorted, picking at the lace of her dress. "Also, Elias."
She smiled at the thought of her best friend.

Elias Pembrooke and Serafina Hale had been attached at the hip since they were children. People said that it was because he was in love with her but she refused to believe it.

They had promised each other at fourteen that they would never fall for each other. Their friendship was too important to be ruined by romantic feelings.

"Why don't you just marry him instead of stringing him along like you have for the past decade?" Elsabeth mumbled under her breath and Sera scrunched up her nose at the thought.

"I don't want to marry him, we're both content with being friends."

"Does he know that? I mean, Sera, he trails after you like a lost puppy. People might think it's improper."

"I don't care what people might think," Sera snapped. "I'm not you."

"Girls, please. Stop this, you're giving me a migraine." Aunt Gladys pinched the bridge of her nose with a gloved hand, her eyes closed tightly.

Sera made a face at her cousin before rolling her eyes and folding her arms. She stared out the window as a flock of ravens flew by and how she wished she could turn into a bird and fly away.

Away from her aunt, away from her cousin, away from England. She imagined a pair of dark black wings sprouting from her shoulder blades and her body transforming into that of a sparrow or a crow.

She imagined how she would soar above the city and fly far, far away. Farther than anyone had ever been before. She would fly to the Americas, to Africa and finally see the land her mother had told her about.

But Serafina did not have wings and she could not fly. She doubted she would ever leave England and its dreary rain clouds and crowded cities