chapter one

─── rosy cheeks

          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.

I corrected my posture as we entered the dining room. Both of us curtsied towards my father, keeping our heads down as we waited for him to say something. He was very intent on his rules, and keeping them.

"Sit." I looked up briefly, watching my father bite into his food, as I stalked to the other side of him. He continued to eat, barely glancing at my mother and I.

"Father." He glanced up at me, his eyes filled with annoyance. I steeled myself for a harsh rebuttal, before continuing with what I was saying. "Have you heard from Rhysand at all? I wondered if he was to come back to the palace soon?"

"Don't ask stupid questions, girl," He spat and I turned back to the food in front of me, stabbing at the meat. "Why would I have heard from that fool?"

I wanted to retort, to tell him that Rhysand was my younger brother and that he should care about his only son. But I kept my mouth shut, staring back down at my plate. Arguing with him would be pointless and I would be unwelcome to return to this house for an unknown period of time.

Mother sent me a quick glare, continuing to eat her food. I think that she was starting to forget that out of the two of us, over the past few decades, I had spent far more time with Father than she had. I could read his moods a little better now.

The silence was stifling, wrapping around us like the dark normally did yet my father was the one to break it this time.

"Both of you are going to be in the throne room this evening, understood?" My father didn't even look up, still tearing at his food. 

"Yes," I hummed, as my mother nodded. Father deemed that an appropriate response, for he stalked off back into the underbelly of the obsidian palace. As he did, I reached for the wine behind me, filling a glass to sip on.

"Maiya," My mother's eyebrows were furrowed as she watched me. "Is that ladylike?"

I downed the glass of wine quickly, before nodding in her direction. "I'll be in the library. If you need me, that is."

Turning around, I left the room quickly, hurrying back to the sanctuary of the library as I thought what had gotten Father so riled up with my brother. My first thought was the betrothals that both Rhysand and I were being forced into. For someone who had found his own mate, he cared little for Rhysand and I finding ours. Luckily, most of my suitors met unfortunate ends before they could ever walk down the aisle towards me and Rhysand was off in an Illyrian camp, trying his best not to get killed so my father had no luck.

But still the thought weighed on me. If he was annoyed at Rhysand, who was undoubtedly my parent's favourite child, then what did that mean for me? 

∘☽༓☾∘

The main throne room of the palace was made of black obsidian, cut in harsh lines, and reflecting the starlight that our court was famed for. But, whilst it was beautiful, there was a cruelty about it that still made me shiver to this day. I had seen enough people tortured and killed on these floors, watched the obsidian slowly be covered by layers of thick, viscous blood.

My father sat on his throne of stone, a dark scowl on his face that only served to further darken the mood. Most who entered this hall never seemed to leave, myself included. I was chained here until marriage, as was the way of the eldest daughter.

My heels clicked on the floor, as I curtsied to the man, dropping low, before sweeping to stand by his right hand side. Despite his annoyance that he held for me, I was still his eldest daughter so he expected me to keep up appearances.

Folding my arms behind me, I waited, every muscle in my body tense. Mother was sitting beside Father, and I wondered whether this was to be a person that I had to torture or find information from, or maybe he wished for us to watch as he killed someone brutally to further exert his power. You never really knew what he was going to do, even when he seemed to be at his calmest, which was the most terrifying thing.

Finally, the doors of the hall swung open as a young man stepped into the room, an Illyrian warrior no less. My eyes widened as I counted the siphons, each glowing blue. There were seven, something that had been unheard of and I couldn't imagine the type of power that he could wield.

My mother made a small squeak of happiness next to me, confusion growing inside of me as I looked over at her pleased smile.

He strode closer, power radiating from his body, yet I could not tell whether he wanted to be there or to fade into the darkness of the night around us. Shadows seemed to curl around him, twisting about his fingertips and around his body, disappearing into the distance at points. His dark hair almost blended with the darkness around him, and a large sword remained slung over his shoulders.

"You're here," My father growled, not sounding happy or impressed, but I doubted that it would scare the man. He'd been trained at one of the Illyrian war camps, probably Windhaven, and I knew, from personal experience, that the commanders up there were just as bad, if not worse, than my father.

"You asked for me, my Lord," His voice wad deep, permeating through my skin and rattling my bones. For some reason, my knees felt weak beneath me and my insides curled up like a snake before it pounced.

This man seemed to stir a reaction, deep within my soul and I wanted, no, needed him to look up so that I could catch a glimpse of his face.

My father was still talking in the background, going on about this man being the spymaster for our court in the up coming war, to utilise his shadow singing abilities. I did not know what they were, and I knew that I would have to research it further. However, after years of knowing the man, I knew that my Father had an ulterior motive for all of this. There was something else he was attempting to do now.

"Finally, Maiya..." I turned to my father, keeping my face in a blank state as I strengthened all the shields in my mind. My family were mostly daemati, equipped with the power to crack someone's mind open and steal their memories though it came at a cost to us, but I did not trust that my father would not attempt to invade my privacy. "This is Azriel. He's a strategist, like you."

Reaching down, he grasped onto my arm, standing up to glare down at me as I kept my eyes straight ahead.

"Behave." I nodded, before Father stormed out and I turned back to face the man. He had looked up now, revealing dark brown eyes and furrowed eyebrows, that straightened in a moment as if to pretend that he was emotionless. As our eyes met, I felt something in my heart click into place, and I recognized why my soul seemed to be calling out for this unknown warrior. 

This was my mate.

I began to back away, watching him nervously, before turning on my heels and disappearing into the depth of the court where I knew he would struggle to follow. This would not do. All of my best made plans, of staying out of my father's wrath, and he would come and ruin it all for me.

∘☽༓☾∘

Hiya,

First chapter and I'm really excited about this. This is set before A Court of Thorns and Roses, so you'll get the general idea of what time period it is in the next few chapters. Maiya is just generally not having fun and Azriel is clueless.

Let me know what you think,

Love Li xx