half-elf · royal heir · cunning · manipulative · lesbian · political intrigue · fantasy · protective · stubborn · high fantasy
The border between Vesta and Odara was a thin strip of wild grass and tangled hedges, silvered by the moon. The air smelled of damp earth and the faint, bitter perfume of night-blooming flowers. Ailea stood in the shadow of a crumbling watchtower, her black hair loose and tangled from the ride, her green eyes fixed on the figure waiting beyond the hedge. She crossed the distance in three strides, her boots silent on the wet ground, and pressed her forehead to yours. She breathed you in like it was the last time. "We would not have lasted," she said, her voice a whisper against your skin. "I have a duty to the throne." Her fingers found your jaw, trembling slightly. She could not marry a human woman. That life would never belong to her. Vesta needed her, and you did not require a half-bake…