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Illia held her ground as her father threw ice daggers in her direction

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Illia held her ground as her father threw ice daggers in her direction. Daggers so sharp they'd slice through her skin if she was a millisecond slower. Her mother watched their daily practice from the large balcony above the snowy courtyard, perched on her favorite fleece lined outdoor chair. She cringed every time her husband got remotely close to hurting their only child and heir. Viviane lost a couple of their kin before Illia was conceived, a decade before Amarantha came to power. Kallias had missed the majority of her life being locked under the mountain. She never forgot him though, Vivaine made sure of it. She was startled from her thoughts by the grunt of her mate. Illia stood above the High Lord of the Winter Court with a smile on her face and a sword crafted from ice itself pointed at his neck. The young platinum blonde removed the sword from her fathers neck and laid her hand out before him. Her father grasped the ice cold hand of the fae he treasured most in the world, lifting himself with a grunt. He shook the snow from his hair. Vivaine laughed at her mate. He glared in her direction. Making her laugh harder, Illia joining in. Her sword long turned into snow. Kallias watched the females he loved dearly, shaking his head at them both. Their joyous moment was interrupted by Roken, Kallias' second.

"High Lord" Roken bowed to Kallias who waved his pale hand in dismissal, the tall brute of a man continued "Morrigan has sent for Illia, she apparently needs help with buying the Lady of the Winter Court a solstice gift". Code. That was their code for emergency. Illia's stance went rigid, they developed it when she was only a youngling. She glanced towards the balcony to see her mother already gone, probably tending to the polar bears. Roken turned to bow to Illia. Normally the offspring of the High Lords were not bowed to, However, Illia was destined to be the first High Lady as her mother could not bear anymore offspring. She was to make history.

"Roken, where are we meeting?" The brute stood at least 7 feet tall, easily the tallest person Illia had every seen.

"The outskirts of the castle" Her platinum blonde hair shook in the chilly wind. The wind was never bad in the village below but her ancestors built the palace into the snow capped mountain side. She cursed their names and snapped her fingers, no longer did she wear fighting leathers of her people but a Midnight blue floor length gown. The fleece lined sleeves met her wrists. Her strappy heals crunched the snow she stood upon. A slit from between her collar bones met mid-stomach, matching bead work exploded from the slit itself. Upon her head sat a crown of snowflakes. Her blonde hair now in loose waves. Illia turned to her father and bowed her head just a bit before winnowing. She met a panicked Mor.

"Illia, I can't explain but Rhys' mate is in trouble and you are the only one sanctioned to be in this court, if we get caught it will be seen as an act of war. She's at the border" Mor looked more shaken than Illia had ever seen.

"I'll take care if it" Illia winnowed to the border. She could see faint outlines of people fighting on the frozen lake. She could hear swords clashing. The blonde winnowed close enough to see Eris, future High Lord of the Autumn Court and his three brothers, the one appearing to fight the others. She was close enough they could hear her but not enough to take a hit from one of their swords. Illia channeled the powers she was born with, the ones that would eventually grow stronger than her fathers own powers. Her knees bent just enough for her pale, boney hand to meet the ice floor she stood upon. Swinging it in the direction of Eris, who was fighting a tall winged male. Ice barreled towards the wicked man. He barely had enough time to put up his shields before the ice struck, falling on his ass. Illia stalked past the winged male, who stood staring at the woman who appeared to be made of ice with her pale skin and platinum blonde hair. She extended her hand, allowing room for a sword of ice to form. Eris stood from the ground, not bothering to wipe the snow from his pants.

"Well, Well ,Well if it isn't Illia, you grew up to be way better looking than that wench for your mother. " Illia turned to meet the voice of one of Eris' brothers who was fighting the other winged male. She used her free hand to shoot Ice daggers in the his direction. The poor excuse of a male met the ground to avoid the daggers.

"Enough, Eris take your filthy excuses for brothers and leave or you'll get the war your father would kill for. I'll start by sending him your eyeballs." Eris looked between his brothers before the three winnowed out. Not before Eris spit in Illia's direction. The latter flipping him off in return before turning to the winged males.

One look. Thats all. Just one.

The mating bond snapped so hard into place it shook Illia to the core. The male was beautiful with a delicate nose and strong jaw. His black hair met the base of his skull. Hazel eyes. Ones Illia wouldn't mind staring at forever. He stood pin strait, covered in Illyrian fighting leathers. Wings to match. The thing that stood out to Illia the most was the shadows he seemed to hide in. Even in the brightest moments of the day, with the sun reflecting off the snow, the male stood amongst the shadows. His gaze held her own. He looked somewhat sorrowful. Like he didn't know what happened. Illia almost felt sorry for the male, key word almost. She was to be High Lady, it should be an honor to be her mate. At least that's what her mother had told her. Illia shook her head, as if she was shaking away every thought before looking back to the man.

"uh, hi"

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