Setoph had always known you were special. Underneath all of those insults and jabs growing up in the willows, he'd seen the light in you before any other pixie.

Since the beginning, faeries themselves were the higher bloods, usually mothren or mariposa. They were unsullied by lesser wings of a dragonfly's or the dark hides of a bat. Lesser wings like Setoph's crisp russet feathers or yours.

The two of you were cast off for your blood alone, in turn, sealing a bond Setoph would have sworn was unbreakable.

That was until the Fae Shrine officially announced a chosen pixie's coronation alongside the Fae Monarch himself. Your coronation.

"I just don't get it." Setoph muttered, slumped against the winding bark hollow of your hut. His wing had been partially folded over his lap, to which he'd taken to preening for the morning. Those light brown eyes of his were cast low, troubled in a way he wasn't sure could be relieved. "What gives him the right to...to take you?"