❝ Sometimes I feel like I have changed into something unrecognizable, but then I see you, and the love I feel tethers me back to this earth ❞
Maiya was walking a fine line. On one side was safety; her brother and mother and love, but the other was c...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
𝔐any thought that growing up as a child of a High Lord was easy. They took one look at the glimmering dresses, expensive jewellery and power that each child wielded and looked no further. If they had, they would see how the dresses constricted like a noose, the jewellery weighed them down and the power choked anyone born into it.
But no ever bothered to look past that far. They were more than happy to be entertained by the precious metals and whisper behind our backs.
This had been my life for as long as I could remember. I had been born into wealth and power, as the eldest daughter of the Night Court, but it was not as smooth sailing as everyone first believed. I was half-Illyrian, half-Fae, something considered to be an abomination to the outside world, and I was a woman, which my father hated.
He wanted a boy and yet here I was.
"Maiya!" The call of my name made me sigh, placing the book that I held back onto the shelf, marking it quickly so that I knew where to grab it when I next came in. The voice echoed again, and I stepped away from the shadows and the library as my mother appeared. "There you are. We're having dinner as a family tonight, don't tell me you forgot."
I hadn't forgotten at all, I just wished that I didn't have to be there.
"You look like a mess," She straightened my dress on my shoulders, brushing it out and trying to remove the dust from my hair.
"I'm fine, Mother," I stepped away from her touch, doing it by myself instead. She paused, her eyes full of sympathies. "Let's get this over with."
She nodded, plastering a smile back onto her face as I followed her down into the depths of our home. Stars glimmered outside, lighting the floor beneath us as the braziers slowly began to light.
I glanced out of the windows, hoping to see someone swooping towards us on the horizon, but no such luck. My brother was still up in the Illyrian war camps to the North, and the chance of him coming home any time soon were small.
Soon after I was born, my parents had another child and my father's wish was granted. They had a boy, Rhysand, who favoured the Illyrian side of our family more than the Fae. He had always annoyed father by swooping around the palace like a hawk, so when he reached an appropriate age, Father sent him and Mother off to the Illyrian war camps and I was left here.
My mother looked as regal as ever. Her face was the perfect mask of complacency, though her eyes told a different story. She was tired. Of what, I didn't know, but I suspected that it was something to do with my father. He was known to be draining.
