In a few days we are going to the Dawn Court for the meeting. The Court is a flurry of preparations, which sentries will be coming to guard us, what puffy ridiculous dresses I will wear at what meetings. Excreta, excreta. The perfect image of a single unit.

But as everything is prepared I plan and plot to show what the Court truly is. As I ask Alis to get a blacksmith to make me a pair of Illyrian style swords and a tailer to make a pair of fighting leathers, similar to the ones I have at my home but brown not black and lighter for running through forests not flying over mountains. I will make it clear that I am glad that the Night Court taught me to fight when my love told me that I would never need to again.

Snap! I break another paint brush. It would raise to much suspicion if I threw it away so again I burn it. And again I use a call breeze to wash away the scent of smoke and bring in the over powering scent of roses.

Picking up another paint brush I continue. A careful dab of paint, a twist of colour. I am painting the nightmare of the Night Court with its snake pillars and Fay skulls, in the center is Rhys on his throne and sitting by his legs is ... me. In the dresses he made me wear Under the Mountain but it is black with tiny diamonds and around my throat is a collar attached to a chain which he holds.  To most people they would think this a memory of the Night Court but even in the Court of Nightmares I never would wear a coller. Even there I was never that submissive.

I know that the Tool is entering now, my shadows warned me. I hear his gasp as he sees my painting, he notes the submissiveness of my position, of how Rhys towers over me. I know he wants to speak to me but he doesn't he just opens the door and leaves.

The corners of my lips turn up in a smirk, his pride has been wounded by my painting. I am not at his side. I am on a leash at another's feet. Smirking I think if that's all your pride can take then it will be easier to take you down.

I caress the bound buried deep within me. Where my love is, Hyburn didn't realise how deep he would have to cleave is apart. How the bargain I made in desperation with a male who was my enemy I would one day wish had never been broken.

You may have your great Cauldron.
And your servants willing to do your every bidding.
But you have no mate. No love.
So I pity you.

Try again and again to break me.
But I will not break.
Not anymore.

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Orlanda 😁