Faye
Emelda walks in step beside me, draped in her usual black cloak, her dark eyes narrowed on the brilliant sunset as the last rays of light dip below the horizon. It’s been two weeks since the fire tore through the manor, two weeks of quiet peace that feels almost misplaced.
I’m not sure how to feel about the death of my sister. We weren’t close nor loving. She was just… there, in my life, a shadow that occasionally followed me around in Red River. I let her lead, let her try to teach me how to be the perfect, submissive vampire wife, the perfect princess, the easiest, most trusting target.
There’s parts of me that still desire to be that perfect, soft-spoken girl. I still crave the quiet sanctuary of the library or my room where I could just read, or play the piano, or paint witho
