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New patrons are always so grateful when I offer suggestions. I think it makes them feel less the villain. Like they didn’t come here specifically to do harm to someone they’ve convinced themselves deserves it.
I am reviled and despised for the very reasons I’m sought out. A figure of dark, evil magic. A member of a race all but stamped out. A Vila. A monster.
I’ll never be a heroine like Leythana. In Briar, I’ll only ever be a villain.
“There’s a reason you’re drawn to the first queen,” she says. “I know a bit of history, too. Enough to guess that there’s power in you, girl. More than you realize. I look forward to the day when you wake up and start using it.”
A terrifying part of my soul whispers that I can do far more than spoil a jug of cream. That I want to.
Though she’s the heir of the most powerful woman in the world, Mariel is hardly more than a figurehead. A mere dragon on a bowsprit—hollow on the inside. What would Leythana think now, if she could glimpse the future her efforts had wrought? I think she would burn it all down.
And I wonder how those servants feel about being excluded from the glittering world they help maintain. If the aches in their shoulders and feet and backs throb with resentment as mine do.
“History is written by victors.” He cups my face in his ice-cold hands. Frost tickles my nose. “Embrace your gift. Your heritage. Such wild, untapped power. You are perfect.”
I’m tired of being treated like a caged pet, let out only to entertain those who despise me.”
“Take care you don’t become what they think you are.”
“What I did with your elixirs was the very least of my abilities. For twenty years I’ve let this realm trample over my back. Keep me caged and controlled. But I am not a beast. Not a mongrel. I am Vila. My power will never Fade. And you’re about to feel every bit of it come down upon your heads.”
