It appeared that I would have to accept that if I wasn’t paraded around as a Feywin, I would be gawked at as one.
I arrived at the Aubrey dining table at a time I would argue was far too late for breakfast. Numerous pairs of eyes glued onto my form in what I would only consider was their idea of greeting me.
Even the guards who I could only suppose were trained to act like statues unless there was some attack would not stop staring.
Is this how everyone else felt when I would not stop staring?
The dining hall was beautiful in the way a mausoleum is beautiful. It was cold, grand, and designed to remind you that you’re small and that death was always close.
Vaulted ceilings hung above, supported by stone pillars carved to look like trees, their branches spreading across the ceiling in a
