ᴀ ᴄᴏᴜʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡ ꜰʟᴀᴍᴇꜱ→ᴀᴄᴏᴛᴀʀ

ᶜʰᵃᵖᵗᵉʳ ᶠᵒᵘʳ

┏━━━━━•❅•°•❈•°•❅•━━━━━┓
                 
                                   Half brother                                  
       
┗━━━━━•❅•°•❈•°•❅•━━━━━┛

Mana shivered as she felt the sheer power of her High Lord and his inner circle. She didn't remember a High Lord having this magnitude of magic, then again she'd only met her previous High Lord in the flesh.

That too, with no memories intact of their rather intimate interaction.

She had had her glimpse of the new High Lord as his coronation, which she was forced to attend as a noble lady in Lord Keir's Court.

She was never the one to attend parties and balls, she'd rather cuddle with Nikolas and read books in the comfort of her own chambers.
Mana had heard numerous rumours of the inner circle, only a few of them truly making any sense. But that was to be expected when her source of information was the gossips her aunt got into.

Nikolas often told her what he deemed important for her to know, but it was somewhat biased since he, unlike the Fae around him, genuinely respected the inner circle with no healthy ounce of fear.

Or perhaps that was because of his infatuation with a certain Shadowsinger.

As if her friend had heard her thoughts he lightly, smacked her arm, with a disappointed look in his eyes he shook his head.

Oh

Apparently the Illyrian was not present. Thank Cauldron, she loved her friend but she couldn't take any more of his babbling on Azriel like a Faeling with their first interaction with the opposite gender or the Court ladies when they get a glimpse of Nikolas without her around.

It made her want to gauge out their eyes and trade them to the Weaver in the middle of the forest for a lovely talk about how to commit a genocide.

Maybe she was a little too irritated; she blamed her pregnancy.

The crowd bowed, the ladies curtseyed as the males held in a grimace before doing their own versions of 'bowing'; she managed a small dip while her friend bowed deeply.

She stood still beside Nikolas as the High Lord sat on his obsidian throne, with the rest of his court who stayed by his side like hounds kept on a leash.

The Morrigan, clad in her red skimpy attire adorned with gold accents and jewellery; a slit down her left thigh to show off those tanned legs that could go for days. She wore glittery golden heels with straps that went up till her knee, her golden hair in open luscious waves that fell down her back and curves, with her delicately pointed ears peaking out; pieced and dangling pretty little rings.

Ever since she was young, Mana had greatly admired her. Even now, she could barely hold in the urge to squeal.

Her hypocrisy towards Nikolas was something she choose to ignore.

The bastard born General stood beside Morrigan, his harsh glaze studying the crowd in case of any threats and searching for something, someone; not that Mana would know, of course. He stood tall, bare of anything glamorous unlike his companion, his figure was big and almost burly, with the muscles he'd built in the cold jarring camps he had grown in. He wore his Illyrian leathers with seven big ruby like stones, siphons that channelled his power and blades that were strapped on him; ready to fight at any moment.

She'd heard of another member of their circle, of a monster in Fae hide that drunk the blood of mortals across the wall and anyone she deemed pray. Of a being from another world. One who's stories were told to her as a child as an attempt to scare her, of what would happen if she were to flee from her prison that she hated to call home.