The Forgotten Crown

Chapter Two

A hefty pouch awaited her in Lydia's study the next day. Morana slept well into the afternoon, the sun high in the sky when she finally emerged from Lucien's bedroom. She left him lying naked as she dressed and went to Lydia's chambers to retrieve her coin. It was best to let him sleep after their long night tangled up together. She hadn't been in her room, so Morana helped herself to the pouch on the end table. A note addressed to her, laid next to it.

Morana now splashed through the mud on her way around Molwreeth's square. Though the third largest settlement in Ellesmere, behind New Rosewood and Cryptfell, it was nothing grand. Derelict huts lined the outer perimeter, separated from the vast tundra to the west by a mere brick wall. The inner city was cleaner than the outer slums, but the buildings were still weathered and leaned at odd angles. Dead leaves and twigs filled the basin of the fountain within the center of the square. Even in the summer, it would remain dry.

Morana eyed the humans she passed, some crossing the street when they spotted her. She didn't bother tying up her hair, bluntly cut just above her shoulders. It was a beacon of her heritage. The mortals kept a safe distance from her as she strolled by, chin lifted. A few of the children whispered curious questions to their mothers, who worked to push them out of her path.

She was the only female halfling in Molwreeth. Hell, she may have been the only one within a hundred miles. A babe born from a fae and human was infrequent, especially after the wars, but to bare a female—that was truly unheard of. A few males lived in seclusion on the outskirts of the city, opting to put as much distance between themselves and the humans who outnumbered them. Morana had only spoken to them a few times, but overall she was uninterested in connecting. The humans would become restless if too many of her kind gathered in one place. Besides, they were old men.

More bystanders scurried out of her path as she glided across the road. Mortals were always so afraid, especially when Madame Wyvern's white-haired warrior prowled so near.

Ellesmere miraculously kept peace between the halflings and humans, both victims of fae slavery and brutality. However, tensions were still high. The halfling mutation, white hair and amber eyes, reminded them of the whimsical beasts that lurked within the magickal wilderness. Although halflings didn't possess magick, the humans still feared an uprising. It was smart of them to be afraid, to cower before Morana. Despite possessing just a sliver of the fae's power, the halflings were still superior to the humans. The wild blood blessed her with keener senses. She was faster and stronger. It was the only decent thing about her tainted bloodline.

But no matter the human fears, halflings would never ruin the freedom they had in Ellesmere. The old human kings had been reluctant to let the half-bloods in. They were reminders of pillage, torture, and assault, but the court would've been fools to deny them. Halflings were just another defense, another weapon against the fae if it ever came to it.

Morana swaggered through town toward her apartment. She hadn't stayed there since Lucien returned, opting to share his bed at the Sleeping Wyvern. But she really needed a change of clothes and a bath, so she took the steps up to the porch of the brick building she called home. It was one of the nicer structures in Molwreeth, with blue carpet in the foyer and a small chandelier dangling above. She shared the building with a few pub owners and well-established courtesans. They made for noisy neighbors but were the only humans, other than her partners, that didn't seem to care that a halfling shared the space. Her toned legs carried her down the hall and into a stairwell. She climbed three flights with ease.

The third floor belonged to her. A fine purchase after her first month of hard work.

Morana unlocked the wooden door at the top of the stairs. The apartment was just the way she had left it. Laundry strung all over the sitting room, a few books on the floor next to a dirty plate. She sighed and stepped onto the hardwood, latching the door behind her.