A FEATURED @FANTASY STORY
❝NO ONE IS BORN EVIL, JUST LIKE NO ONE IS BORN ALONE. THEY BECOME THAT WAY THROUGH CHOICE AND CIRCUMSTANCE. I'M SO AFRAID OF WHAT YOU COULD BE, IF GIVEN THE WRONG CHOICE.❞
When Mare Barrow trades her life away to Maven Ca...
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Mare
Violence for violence is the rule of beasts
Chapter Music: A Double-Edged Sword
The courtyard below the window of the foyer shows the effects of late fall. The roses, despite the Green warden's effort, have started to wilt and fall onto the stone path. When I blink, I'm in the visions with Jon. When I squeeze my eyes shut and open them again, the blood is gone, and all that is left are the petals.
I turn away from the window, trading one dissatisfying view for another. Maven. He sits in a plush, round chair. His fingers drum on the arm of it and his eyes are closed, showing off long, dark lashes. His brows are twisted tightly upward and a muscle in his face twitches.
"Mare, stop pacing." As usual, I don't listen. I only step harder onto the floor, making sure the room takes in the full echo of my heel. "Will you st-"
"No."
"I didn't tell you about the Piedmont Princes just to listen to you wear down the floorboards."
"Then leave." In the corner of my vision, I see him peeking around, watching me walk and back forth. "When will they be arriving?" I ask as I flip a clump of freshly curled hair across the wide neckline of my gown. The gown conceals most of the brand Maven burned into me so long ago.
"Within the hour." His voice sounds so distant. As if he's talking to me through a wall.
"Why are they even coming?" I turn towards him, finally pausing in my pacing.
"Ally countries need to visit one another from time to time." I bite my lip to stifle a laugh as I fold my arms across my chest. He must think I'm completely stupid.
"Yes, but they send an envoy. Not a pair of their royals." Maven's features harden and he shifts uneasily in his seat as his back straightens. "You're not telling me something."
No response.
"Why are they actually here, Maven?" I hiss at the back of his head.
"Hush, they're coming."
I bite back words when the door opens and a Sentinel walks in. The Nortan seal lays on the center of his chest. His voice booms when her says, "Their Majesties Prince Daraeus and Prince Alexandret."
The two men follow behind him, and when they are standing fully in the room the Sentinel leaves, closing the door behind him. The two men look towards us, each with a head of graying hair. It stands out starkly on their brown skin and deep green robes.
"King Maven," They say together, bending into a bow. They are in perfect sync, each a mirror to the other. I wonder how many times they had to rehearse their greeting before they arrived. Maven dips his head in a small nod, and he stands up from his chair. He bows, but it is not as deep as the Princes.
