It had been two days since he announced that fearful, fateful news.

Two days since he'd uttered those hideous words.

"I am dying"

Where I'd sat there in shock for a while before I'd hugged him and simply wept. I hadn't cried like that in years.

It was like a moment where I was a youngling again, like when I used to accidentally injure myself around the manor by my own clumsiness and I'd run straight to my father's arms. Even when I was that young I always went to my father instead of Ivanna for comfort.

Father had always swept me up in his arms and promised me that it would all be alright. Rocked me like I was a baby until I'd stop whimpering enough to have whatever cut or bruise I acquired cleaned. But Sabin my maid who was nearly never sympathetic, usually berated me for my foolishness even though I was only seven. By eight I'd learned to be less clumsy at least.

Father was always sympathetic though. And I never forgot those promises. And I'd felt that as long as he was there for me I'd always be alright. There was always a sense of safety only a parent could provide even at my age now. It was irreplaceable.

Except when I did the same thing after he told me the news he hadn't promised that he would be alright.

He was simply silent as I embraced him. That's when the realisation truly weighed on me. He wasn't going to be okay.

Even thought that was two days ago it felt like weeks had past.

I hadn't spoken to Bellamy at all even though he would throw rocks gently at my bedroom window at night to try and check that I was alright. My father would've likely let his sentries know the news by now. Maybe not.

But I simply couldn't bring myself to see Bel. I couldn't bring myself to see anyone. I didn't trust the hold I had over myself and I didn't want my emotions to spill out like a rapid all at once. I'd never cried in front of him. I didn't want to look weak.

A day I'd wasted entirely. I spent it trying to attempt to process it more as I observed my father from the shadows, going about his usual business as High Lord. But he wasn't the same.

I couldn't believe I'd been so blind, so preoccupied with weapons training of all things to miss the fact my father was dying. I was a horrible daughter. I was so ashamed and cursed myself for my foolishness.

Father was growing weaker and I was growing strong I could feel it now. Another thing I'd failed to notice but this shift in power was sudden. But if I thought about it I'd had the first slight indication a week ago. The increased strength. But I hadn't read too much into it.

He looked so much paler than usual when I'd caught glimpses of him. His slightly golden tanned skin had gone almost as pale as some in the Winter Court. The radiant gold in his hair had dimmed to a dirty blonde type colour, more human like.

Even those golden flecks of green in his eyes didn't look as bright as usual like his very tie to spring was wilting. That was an odd thing for me to notice but I supposed I was being overly analytical since I found out the news.

The power that usually radiated around his very essence and being as an immortal High Lord had practically gone. Like a fire that had been suddenly and harshly killed by a pail of water, shocked at its own quick demise but still embers remained.

That's what shocked me the most. How sudden the changes were. His deterioration.

How long would it take for this strange sickness to consume him and corrupt his flesh? Days? Weeks? Months? I hoped it was the latter. Perhaps even years. I needed all the time I could get to try and find a way to save him.

I hated seeing him like that though. It felt like I was draining the very life out of him. Like I was the one killing him, a daughter killing her father. I hated this, feeling helpless.

My strong father - reduced to a shell of his former power.

And now his powers had began transferring to me as I started developing the physical markers of the next in line to be High Lord. In my case, High Lady. The first to inherit the title through birth.

Before I might've felt happy about that, with the knowledge that it was me for definite that was going to be High Lady and not some distant male relative. My ambitions would've been achieved. But I expected it to happen several centuries in the future. Not now.

But I was in despair, though I tried not to show it, as guilt festered in my heart like someone was slowly twisting around an ash knife in it.

This wasn't supposed to happen - I was too young to be High Lady. I wasn't ready.

I wasn't ready to be an orphan. To lose my father. My only family.

That was the only thing that truly mattered to High Fae in this world, with all our natural privileges and wealth. We had everything but we couldn't buy love and family, which made them so much more important.

Cauldron, I couldn't do this.

It was suddenly overwhelming, I felt like I was drowning with the weight of the knowledge that my father was leaving me, with the guilt of even deigning to think about my future responsibilities.

But years of determination and ambition faded away in a moment. None of that bullshit was important. Not if he died. Not like this. He still had centuries to live.

He certainly didn't deserve it. It was cruel. He'd fought in several wars and fought so hard to protect me my whole life yet he was going to have his life snuffed out by a damn sickness. He was a High Lord? How the hell did that even happen?

It might even be a curse I pondered as I thought on it more. From a witch. Unlikely. But a possibility.

Witches weren't in Prythian to my knowledge but there were some on the continent. They amassed power through spells and ancient powerful tools to harness more power than they had been born with. They weren't all good or all bad, the magic they summoned depended on the intent of the individual witch.

But what quarrel would they have with my father? A Prythian High Lord. What had he ever done to them?

It pissed me off that I couldn't work it out. That was my new frequent emotion. Bouts of explosive anger.

Wait.

I stopped my thought process and back tracked. I couldn't work it out because I had no clues or answers? But who had answers? No. I corrected myself. It wasn't a question of who. It was a question of what.

And suddenly I had an epiphany as I combed through my memories, of stories Ivanna used to tell me and of books I'd read about all manner of faeries in the vast Spring Court libraries.

The Suriel. I needed to track and catch the Suriel. Those faeries famed for their answers. One of them should surely know how the cure for my father's ailment.

But I needed to brush up on my knowledge about them to be sure and I practically sprinted to the library. Barely even noticing my maid, Sabin, following with a grumpy expression on her crinkled face.

But I didn't have time for that as I flung the library doors open, rushing past the many rows of endless ancient books on mahogany shelves, mostly bound in leather and adorned with golden words on the sides. Some hadn't been touched in years.

And yet. There was such much knowledge here. Books that silently waited and prayed for prying hands and eyes to embrace it.

Though Rosehall Library was nothing compared to those in the Day Court, where the knowledge of Prythian was rumoured to lay. But still. It was significant. My father had even added to it over the years when I loved to read as a child and quickly most of the books I had read within months.

There was a small golden chandelier over my head with candles. For night reading. Like the many golden candle sticks that also sat in the large room. Not that any would be doing much night reading. The only use the candles got was if the servants cleaned later than normal. Cleaned a room that I barely used anymore. My father never did.

I even spied the large detailed map of Prythian at the end of the hall along with the many dark wooden tables that were aching for someone to sit down, grab a few books and read it.

But I turned away and running, to the section I needed and practically snatched up an old dusty black book I'd recalled reading before decades ago.

I heard footsteps behind me but I ignored them.

Already I was flicking through it quickly to the part about suriels. I knew it was in here. Somewhere.

"Althea," Sabin snapped from behind me suddenly in her firm voice, "you need to have some dinner."

I raised a hand to tell her to wait as I kept looking for the right section. I felt the regret in my stupid decision as soon as I made the gesture.

"Don't you shush me child," Sabin hissed and I turned a little at her tone and she smiled, satisfied that I was listening to her.

Child? I supposed no matter how old I was I would always be a child to her. She was over a thousand after all.

Sabin was one, if not, the oldest maid at the estate. She was even there when father was a youngling she used to tell me. And was a close companion of my grandmother. Tending to her as she tended to me now.

She never tended to Ivanna. She never liked her but then again Sabin has always been a good judge of character.

Sabin had pale skin and dark blonde hair with streaks of grey. She was old. Even by immortal standards. A small crinkled mouth and small beady black eyes. A face that wasn't one of beauty but was one of character, she had presence. Her sheer iron will kept her going like she was barely past eighty.

"Now tell me what you're doing girl," she said, the unspoken threat in her tone if I didn't obey and it almost made me smile because the two small horns that nestled on her blonde head made her look even more fearsome, "and it better be a good excuse for you to practically skipping every meal these last two days."

It was true. I had skipped dinner today and yesterday. And other meals. But I could get away with dinner now, my father preferred to eat in his rooms now, in an attempt to hide his condition from me a little. He'd looked so haunted at my reaction when he first told me the news.

"Sabin," I said incredulously, "my damn father is dying how can you even ask."

"And does him being sick suddenly mean you're allergic to food, rest, essentials to your well-being?"she said stonily and my mouth gaped open for a minute, "close that mouth child you look like a fish."

I instantly obeyed. Out of pure habit. I was silent for a minute, considering it it was worth trying to evade answers from here. But Sabin had an unshakable will that I've never seen anyone sway.

And it was almost refreshing. She was the first one to not give me pity. I loved her for it.

"I'm trying to find information about the suriel faeries so I can ask them what the cure is to father's sickness," I eventually admitted begrudgingly.

She raised an eyebrow at me, "and was there not a contents page in this book?"

My face went red, though it was never that noticeable with my skin tone. I felt like an idiot and flipped back to the beginning. Of course there was a contents page I was just so hasty that I foolishly overlooked it in my panic.

Using that page I finally found the right section. Briefly skimming over it just to simply confirm what I had thought about the suriel species, for definite and to pick up all the knowledge I could.

I didn't want to tell anybody what I was doing, I certainly didn't want to tell father. He would be against me going to hunt one.

"Have you found what you were looking for?" Sabin questioned drily.

"Yes and I'm going to hunt one of them, get answers, this book confirmed that they truly know any answer to any question their captor asks of them," I said, feeling reassured in my plan.

I was told about the suriel species so long ago, I worried for a moment that their gifts were more fiction than reality. I couldn't afford to make mistakes. Not now.

The old maid snorted that, letting out one of her rare gruff laughs, "foolish child, I am thousands of years old, I could I've told you that about the Suriel, vain things, I suppose you know what you need to lure one?"

I nodded.

The book had spoke of their greed and in particularly, the ragged worn cloaks they tended to wear, their only true possessions they truly owned, which made that clothing valuable to them. That's what I would trap it with. Its weakness.

"A fine cloak should do the trick," I said with a smile. I had so many cloaks, all made of the finest materials nothing less that to be expected from a High Lord's child.

"Good, you're not as dense as I thought child," Sabin said with a small rare smile, "I knew me helping raise you to a degree didn't go to waste completely."

That made me smile a little as I recalled happy memories. Sabin was tough and firm. But she had indeed aided with raising me alongside Ivanna. And she'd done it well.

"Are you going to tell father what I'm up to?" I asked.

"No," she answered shortly, "what he doesn't know won't hurt him."

And that was that. I actually gave her a small hug from my sudden burst of energy and her old silver eyes looked a little surprised for a moment but she looked a little happy.

"But you're not hunting today, not in the dark," she decided, "I'm going to bring you up a meal in half an hour, you're going to eat every scrap, have a long bath because you smell like naga shit and then have a good nights sleep of rest," Sabin said simply as she turned on her heel and left me to my own devices.

Classic Sabin. Yet I did care about her as she cared about me. She wasn't a replacement for my mother or even a kind sweet grandmother. But she'd always been there for me, in her own way. That's what mattered.

I decided it was best to listen to her for once. She'd made me feel a little better but as soon as she left my sour mood returned.

I missed my father already. I felt like what remained was borrowed time.

He hadn't let me see him today as he pushed me away, I suspected he was a little ashamed I'd imagined, for his daughter to see him wasting away. To see him break.

But he would be restored to health. I would see to it. I swore it.

Taking the book with me under my arm just in case, I went to my room, walking up the staircase where the servants who passed me by had that sickening expression of pity and sympathy on their faces.

"Condelences milady," another maid with silver scaly skin even whispered. I didn't know her name. I couldn't even recall seeing her before. But I didn't even thank her. I just nodded wearily.

They were all acting like he was dead already. It put me on edge, made me want to punch someone's teeth out but I knew they meant well.

It all reminded me of what was happening. Of all I stood to lose.

I was suddenly grateful yet again that Sabin hadn't looked at me like that. Like I was a wounded animal. Though I practically was.

So I went straight to my room. The second largest in the house. And with a flick of my hand a few dozen candles lit my room up. I'd seen my father do that countless times. I had learned the trick myself a few years ago.

My bedroom was enormous and over the top in its grandeur. Typically High Fae.

Its walls were completely white in an almost heavenly way and they never so much as rotted or darkened, they almost glowed with the fervour of immortality themselves. With intricate sketches of ancient golden flowers along with emerald plants and other additional detailed spring related things, painted lilac at my request. Spring. Spring. More Spring. It could get so tiresome. Yet it was apart of me that I would never shake.

Those colours were all the general theme and hues in my room. Adorned with countless ivory furniture with lilac and gold pillows with a wardrobe and rugs that all adorned a similar colour scheme.

And of course a ridiculous four poster lilac and white four poster bed which had gold vines along the headrest which had small curtains billowing down from it and from the four posters, which also had those gold vines wrapped around the wood of them.

The windows curtains had a similar colour scheme, but they were a golden silk. I hadn't opened the curtains in days either.

After thinking for a moment I opted for changing out of my clothes after consideration.

Just a simple lilac thing made of silk that went to the knee, nothing to be considered inappropriate - not that I would have anyone to show this too anyway. Unless I planned to make some of the guards on border patrol flustered. Though Bellamy would just give me a smirk and likely encourage me.

The nightdress was my favourite colour and embroidered with flowers along the hem as many of my nightdresses tended to be.

I hadn't changed for days but Sabin's previous words had resonated. I knew she wouldn't be pleased about me wearing my day clothes to bed. So the nightdress it was.

I even yawned a little as I made my way to my dresser and thanked myself for not tying my hair back as whenever I then took it out my hair would stay up at every angle, unlike the High Fae whom had straight hair.

I touched my dresser, feeling for something absentmindedly but as soon as I heard a crack and even a splinter my hand shot back from the wooden surface.

I rolled my eyes at the sight. I had barely touched the damn thing yet I'd managed to break it a little, there was a crack at the side of my dresser now.

It suddenly made me want to destroy the whole thing. Smash it into pieces. Everything just kept getting worse.

Even though I wasn't a youngling anymore, I knew how to control my immortal strength. Yet now I didn't anymore. With my power increasing. I would have to learn it all again.

Another challenge. Another setback.

I zoned out for a few moments, suddenly feeling the consequences of not sleeping combined with the echoes of my last training season with Bellamy days ago.

My body needed rest now more than ever. I would try to sleep at least tonight. So I had the best chance to trap the Suriel tomorrow. If I didn't succeed the first time it would be unlikely that any other attempt would work

I looked at my dresser again at my face this time I didn't even try and touch the mirror as I sometimes did, for fear I might shatter it even if I simply brushed my fingers along the glass, and I just continued to silently stare.

Just staring. Overanalysing my face as usual. My daily repetitive routine. Something oddly formal for me in amongst this chaos.

If I stared longing enough occasionally I could see my mother staring back. And seeing what a disappointment I was, how unworthy.

But I wasn't her and didn't have her looks either.

Today of all days especially with the broken version of me staring back, with the same features and all. But the weariness was more apparent. It looked like I'd aged overnight.

Some had called me beautiful but they likely just wanted my favour because of my social standing. No.
Ivanna was beautiful, my father handsome and me? Who knows.

But in all honesty a handful of 'unique' features were probably a key to my supposed "beauty".

Bellamy once told me that my fierce spirit made me heavenly which was a step up from beautiful in his opinion. He was always giving me compliments as part of his banter. Compliments that I didn't deserve or believe. Still that was his nature.

Even Shilah, a friend of mine, complimented me on occasion. But she was just kind.

I wasn't an ethereal goddess like many High Fae women tended to be, the ones who possessed such looks that they flaunted. No. It was like at times it was practically a requirement to have some otherworldly majestic beauty, especially amongst High Fae. But that simply wasn't how things worked.

I wasn't completely ugly by any means But I was pretty at a stretch.

Although at times I did feel like the most hideous fae to grace Prythian's grounds. But then my mood changed so quickly. I wish I had better control over them within myself. My emotions.

I'd somehow shifted from numbness, to sadness, to anger and now back to a numb mood which actually allowed me to be factual about my looks, rather than feeling overly beautiful or overly ugly.

I wouldn't be considered a god-like being among mortals, as many of them tended to regard the beautiful High Fae as. The Children of the Blessed probably wouldn't even want to be my tribute. That made me snort a little.

Though my brown skin was perfectly clear, I did have a dark mole over the top of my left eyebrow and a scar next to it that I was forever overthinking about.

I did that a few years after my mother had left. Tried cutting the mole off with a butter knife. It didn't work of course. Just left me in pain. But I was even more temperamental back then facing adolescence without a mother and a busy father. Although he always tried his best.

I had high cheekbones that were always prominent, especially when I smiled - I had a wide smile though I rarely showed it because it was rather an ugly smile in my opinion

That's why many considered me unapproachable Bellamy had bluntly told me once, I didn't smile often except with him he had added to boost his own ego when I'd began to scowl at him. But it was true, Bellamy did make me smile a lot.

Though I certainly wouldn't be smiling or attempting to smile more often in my future now. Not in these circumstances.

But I pushed that away and continued my assessment of myself. Better to focus on small things than to think about the rest, the pain. Easier to let myself feel nothing at all. For now.

I did get my nose from my father, so I didn't have my mother's pretty wide nose that suited her so well. No mine was more slender in a way that didn't really suit my face.

I inherited my hair texture partly from my mother but also mixed with my fathers just like my skin colour.

My hair however was a little way past my shoulder, it was almost a little wavy as the curls were set in a spiral shapes that made my hair incredibly thick and added volume to it.

It was a pain in the ass to brush though. I did my own hair most days to be independent but Sabin always came to try and persuade me to let her do it constantly.

Sabin likely would try and attack my head with her brush when she came back up to my room as she'd promised.

And I had to admit she did a better job at grooming my hair. That was like my mother's but unlike.

Ivanna's was a grand regal afro that was in tight kinky curls, her hair was shorter than mine but when it was wet it was a lot longer. But she suited both long and short hair. I remembered as a child I marvelled her, I wanted to look and be just like her.

She was an incredibly beautiful woman. Her skin was flawless and very dark, she had lovely large lips that she often coated in a dark shade of lip rouge. All her features suited her. She was one of those ethereal High Fae legends spoke of. I pictured her so clearly because I used to cling to my memories of her.

And she smelled of a citrus scent which reminded her of her home at the Summer Court. I remembered so well because I loved her smell. Well I used too.

She never even returned for events such as Calanmai and flat out refused in her letters so my father had to perform the Great Rite with one of the many eager women.

Though I always avoided that to. I didn't want to be near all that. He was my father and it was disgusting. But again, High Fae bullshit. I shuddered at the thought of having to participate myself. No. I'd have to get myself out of that.

But I wouldn't be participating anytime soon. I would make sure my father had years more to live. Perhaps he could one day find happiness in a female companion again.

I looked at myself more in the mirror again as I stood up from my chair, turning so I could see myself at different angles. My body.

Again I wasn't slim, didn't have that majestic manner about me that many women did with their willowy limbs and slender thin figures.

No I was curvy I supposed, mid sized in a way. Well I had a few curves but they weren't massively prominent - I just had large hips and very thick thighs from my mother though she suited them better. Like she suited everything better.

My stomach wasn't flat but it wasn't very fat either, because of all my training I was toned. I was obsessed with the training for a time, the distraction it brought.

Though in regards to my stomach I had muscle there thought admittedly as a child I used to have fat in many places. And I still did to an extent. On my upper arms and a little under my chin, enough to make me lacking in a sharp High Fae jawline.

And my breasts. Cauldron boil me I hated them sometimes. Although they looked beautiful in certain clothes at times they were so unpractical for training.

They were enormous. Too excessive. It was hard to find clothes that fitted them at times. That's why I usually tried to bind them as much as I could. To keep them from moving so much. They could be quite painful. The joys of being female.

They would certainly be unpractical for my journey to the woods tomorrow. And I certainly preferred practicality to excessive finery, a trait my father and I shared.

But the Suriel, luckily, did not. I was glad they were a vain species because I had no shortage of fine cloaks to give to it.

I looked at the crimson cloak I had laid out earlier when I changed into my nightdress earlier, it was ready for tomorrow. Yes. Surely that would tempt the creature.

That made me smile a little bit. I wasn't completely helpless.

For I had my wits and a plan. That was a start.

I almost jumped when Sabin burst into the room unannounced, armed with so much food on the tray I cringed at it slightly. I didn't feel like eating but I couldn't say no to her.

But over the next few hours I let her fuss for a little while, I ate the food she gave me. Had a bath as I stunk like 'naga shit' as she so gleefully repeated when she'd graciously ran it for me, adding bubbles and bath salts scented of lavender.

Although the time in the waters cleaned my body, it didn't erase the pain or the rage and sadness that had overtaken me again as I ruminated over my thoughts in the bath water, I had even tried to make the water rise a little to take my mind off of it all, creating flowers, swords and whatever shapes I willed the water droplets into. Using my gift from her side of the family, the Summer Court side. Ivanna happened to be from a very strong line so I actually inherited something useful from her.

But even my silly water powers didn't stop the thoughts from swirling around my head.

At least whilst I was staring at myself in the mirror earlier I had forgotten for a moment, what my true worries were as I focused on something as trivial as my looks.

But now? Now all I could think about was my father and how he wound wither away. And I wanted to scream at the sheer unfairness of it all until my throat was hoarse.

My father was going to die. That's all that my head kept repeating to me. And I couldn't stop it. Couldn't control my thoughts or despair. Couldn't control anything. I hated it.

So when I'd eventually gotten out of the bath and put my nightdress back on to my surprise Sabin still remained. She had waited for me.

Sometimes I'd forgotten how well Sabin knew me. How well she knew the changes in my emotions and moods.

Tears had started to well at my eyes as I looked at her. That's how easy it was for me to break down.

Again she didn't give the slightest inclination of sympathy, she only got up from one of my sofas she'd been sitting on and walked towards me.

And for the first time in over six decades she gave me a hug.

I couldn't stop the tears from falling then as the short woman held on to me, her grip just as firm as her nature.

"Sabin he's dying, leaving me," I'd almost whispered, "he's abandoning me, just like her."

Sabin stiffened a little at the mention of Ivanna but replied nonetheless,

"He's not leaving you through choice Thea," she said gravely, "you know that."

And I did know that. But this felt just like the pain I felt when Ivanna left. Both my parents were leaving me forever.

"I'll be alone," I said forlornly.

And she didn't respond. She just held me tighter and I got the unspoken message in her gesture since she rarely ever hugged me - that I wasn't alone because I had her.

I was grateful but it wasn't the same. But still, I let myself cry, be angry, be in despair. For today at least. This was the day of weakness I would allow myself before I picked the pieces of myself back up.

Sabin didn't say anymore words as she still held me but she didn't need to. She was simply there for me.

As long as I needed before I finally made my way to bed, her even going as far to give me a kiss on the forehead much to my surprise, it didn't take long before I was taken by my sleep.

And captured by a symphony of nightmares.