ᴀ ᴄᴏᴜʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡ ꜰʟᴀᴍᴇꜱ→ᴀᴄᴏᴛᴀʀ

ᶜʰᵃᵖᵗᵉʳ ˢⁱˣ

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                  'ancient period cramps incarnate'                  

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After what seemed like hours parading in the dark, and bumping into Cauldron knows what, Mana finally found herself in the kitchen. She had let the faint scent of cinnamon and other spices drift through her twitching nostrils and let it guide her till she found herself in the pantry, where the faelights had immediately lighted up as the house sensed her entering, with her belly rumbling; incredibly ravenous for something sweet, although anything else would suffice if it filled her stomach and not sicken her till she pukes.

She eagerly opened the cooler as soon as she caught the sight of the expensive box like small cabinet, no one in their right mind would keep that thing empty and let all the complicated spells go to waste.

Mana almost danced in delight as she saw an entire chocolate cake stuffed in there. She saw some bottles of colourful fluids with bits of fruit as well, taking one at hand she popped the cork open and took a sniff of the concoction. It smelled of alcohol and juices which repulsed her, so she put the thing back, back to focusing on the chocolatey dessert.

One slice she told herself, she'll only take one medium slice.

Out of consideration for the house residents not killing her and giving her homage despite her being a homewrecker to the High Lord's dead family.

She pursed her lips, the former Lady of Night, her husband and her daughter didn't know that being dead, so it was more of a shock to the current High Lord that his father was an ass. Although, by what she'd heard of him, Rhysand was smart enough to know that, just now, he knew full extent of it.

The one night stand of the High Lord's deceased sire giddily cut herself a thick slice of the scrumptious delicacy.

Definitely not on purpose, she told herself.

As soon as she took a bite, she moaned. Cauldron, she had to know where on Prythan this masterpiece of refined taste was created, she'd spend the copious amounts of gold left in her possession after Venon and Petunia's demise on desserts; both to spite them and satisfy her gluttony.

The title of Lady would pass on to her but without holding any actual power or territory to rule. Maybe some influence, yes but nothing of importance. All of what Vernon had in his name would go to Lord Keir, her disowned father's brother in blood, with Keir older by a couple of centuries.

With a bloodline so prestigious, her uncle had given her everything she asked for, in hopes of Keir claiming her his own. The Morrigan's father had only acknowledged her as his niece, slightly disappointed that her power, significant but didn't take up to the heights of his daughter at her age. He did nothing to support her being an orphan so young, still bitter about his brother.

Vernon had been displeased but used her as his bargaining chip whenever required. His only hope was that she'd be the Morrigan Keir wanted.

She was so joyous about his end at the hands of the High Lord who made Morrigan his second.

Just thinking about Vernon's wife made her sour, so she ignored the wretch's memories.

Deep in her thoughts, she had failed to realise that she was stuffing her mouth with last remains of the cake.

Her delicately pointed ears twitched at a small noise, Mana lifted her glaze to see a pair of violet orbs in the dark. Whist still gulping up the food, with her instincts screaming of eminent danger, she screeched as she dropped backwards with the plate falling from her chocolate stained hands. It clanked against the floor as she held up a kitchen knife pointed at the intruder.