Chapter One

It's not every day that a girl turns eighteen. It's not every day a girl is sentenced to death by her own mother, either.

From behind the gilded bars and dirty panes on her bedroom window, Aleana watched as the sun broke away from the tree-lined horizon, its golden rays glaring in her eyes and causing them to water. She didn't look away or at the quiet courtyard far below.

If she looked down, she'd see the hangman's noose she'd be swinging from later in the day.

Frowning, Aleana closed her grey eyes and turned her head. She didn't need to see it. She didn't want to see it. Part of her still held a fragile piece of denial, a piece of naive hope that whispered that maybe this wasn't her last day.

But even so, she knew today was her last.

Any minute now, her maid would come to deliver her last breakfast, her kind face marred with pity. Within a quarter-of-an-hour, her mother would no doubt come knocking at her door, giving her a generous ultimatum.

"Marry your half-brother and I'll spare your life," she'd say.

Or maybe not exactly that. Her mother always did have a flair for the dramatic. There'd be more shouting, more tears, maybe even more incentives. Her darling half-brother might make an appearance.

Aleana hated her mother. She hated her half-brother. However, she had to admit that when the pair wanted to put on a show, they could do it and do it well.

After all, her father fell for it nineteen years ago, and up until her fifteenth birthday, Aleana was none the wiser of her mother and her schemes.

But she couldn't miss her mother's plans now. Not for an instant.

Her mother wanted her son, Julian, to be king and solve Aleana's little problem. Born from her mother's first husband, dearest Julian had no right to the throne. Whereas Aleana did. In fact, if she'd been eighteen and normal when her father died, she would've become queen right there and then.

Unfortunately, that was not the case, and so she found herself standing in the middle of her once beautiful bedroom in the sunrise of her last day, making her own schemes on how to best throw her mother off guard when she came to see her.

That was all she could do, after all.

A knock echoed through the room as her maid tapped on the wooden door.

"Come in," Aleana called, her lips pressed together and her fists clenched.

While she appreciated the sentiment, there was no point for her maid, Claire, to knock. Her door, like her window, was just a part of a glorified prison cell. With bars on the outside and a small barred window at the top, Aleana's door was made with one goal in mind; keeping her trapped inside.

Even so, her words were followed by the clicking of keys in locks and the familiar sound of Claire's shuffling steps into the room.

"Good morning, Princess." Claire came into the room, her demeanor a shade of her usual joyous one, the older woman's eyes staying on the task at hand.

"Good morning, Claire."

Claire did not look up at Aleana's words.

Aleana watched as Claire placed the breakfast tray on the rickety and faded dressing table that stood on one side of the room, across from Aleana's equally worn bedframe. Once upon a time, this room was filled with luxurious fabrics and the best furniture, gowns, books that staved her worries away, and all the dolls her father's influence could buy.

Nowadays, it seemed that Claire and Aleana were all that was left of that time.

Not a single gown, book, or doll remained; just skeletons of what her life used to be.

"Oh dear, you've already gotten dressed," Claire said, at last eyeing Aleana's threadbare, blue dress. It was the nicest thing she owned, even if the hem was ripped and threads hung from the sleeves like spider-webs. "I was supposed to help you."

"Don't worry, I won't tell."

Claire stared at Aleana, her owlish eyes wide, before responding, "I know you won't."

Aleana glanced away, choosing instead to focus on the breakfast tray. A small cup of tea and a piece of bread greeted her. Aleana looked back at Claire, her shoulders slumping involuntarily.

"I would've gotten you more, my lady, but your mother-"

"She forbade it?" Aleana cut in, and Claire nodded her head, her white-streaked hair catching the sunlight. "I thought as much."

Her mother no doubt believed that Aleana would be more likely to agree to a "compromise" if she was hungry. Then again, her mother once thought the same thing two years ago about taking away her gowns, her nice furniture, and locking her in her tower bedroom.

It didn't go according to her mother's plans, but when it came to Aleana, nothing rarely did.

"Princess, I want you to know, that all of us-" meaning the palace staff and every servant and nobleman who'd helped raise Aleana "-wish that things could've been different. We wish we could help you."

"But you can't."

"No, princess, but we'd like to. We've asked your-"

A shout from outside Aleana's room interrupted Claire. Both of them froze and Claire paled. Aleana didn't. She moved to stand in front of Claire just as the door to her room swung open, revealing the queen.

"Your Highness, you're up awfully early," Aleana bit out, pushing Claire behind her more with a firm but gentle hand. Her mother pouted, her eyelashes fluttering at the effort of forcing away the fake tears that spilled from her eyes and down her powder covered cheeks.

"Oh, my darling, why can you not call me Mama again? Like the old days!"

Aleana stiffened as her mother rushed forward, clutching onto Aleana's bony shoulders. Up close, her mother's blue eyes swam with more crocodile tears than Aleana thought possible. Steeling herself, Aleana straightened, preparing herself for her own little act.

"Don't you know? I'm doing you a favor," Aleana said, her jaw tight. "I thought you'd rather be known as the queen who justly executed her unruly subject. Sounds much better to the masses than the mother who killed her neglected daughter out of a misplaced sense of righteousness."

Behind her, Claire stifled a gasp, and her mother narrowed her eyes. Aleana's inner fourteen-year-old, the same fourteen-year-old who trusted her mother without fail, loved her father, and had yet to find out about the very predicament that had her in this mess, shuddered with fear. But outside of her quaking mind, Aleana's face mirrored stone, cold and unforgiving.

This was a mask she knew better than most. After all, she'd learned from the best.

"You always were such an ungrateful, wicked child. When will you learn to hold your tongue?"

"Well, since you're going to kill me today, probably never. But if by chance I end up in the Pit, I'll let you know when you get there."

Aleana stood tall as her mother did her best impression of a fish. Her mouth opened and closed, until at last, the woman took a step back, releasing Aleana from her hold. Aleana's lips twitched with the effort of trying to hold in her hysterical laughter.

She did always have a hard time holding her tongue, but now that she was to die she wasn't pulling her punches anymore.

"I would never end up there." The words came out as a whisper. Aleana's laugh escaped, bubbling out, unable to be stopped.

"Don't you know? That's where murderers go, Mama. And you've killed at least twice now." Aleana held up a hand, ticking off her fingers. "Let's see. Me, Father, who else? I'm sure there's more. Why don't we ask Julian's father? Wait, he's dead too isn't he?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Aleana saw Claire edge out the bedroom door. Good, if Claire was lucky, Aleana's mother would forget she was present. An ugly yowl snapped Aleana's attention to her mother.

"How could you say such horrible things? I am your mother!" Giant tears poured down her face, but Aleana felt nothing but scorn and that sense of lingering fear. Whereas once she would've comforted her mother, Aleana knew better now. "I came here to give you a chance, and all you do is throw insults at me!"

"Fine, then let's hear it. Let's see if your offer deserves anything better than insults."

Aleana walked to the window sill, leaning up against it with her arms crossed, her fingernails biting into her forearms to keep her tears in. She could do this. She stared at her mother, waiting for the show to begin.

"If you marry Julian, you'll be free. Free like you've always wanted, darling! Free to visit your aunt like you wished, free to wear whatever gowns you want-"

"Free to rule my country how I wish?" Stifling silence met Aleana's question. Her mother frowned. "I thought not."

"Sweeting, please, think this through! I'm giving you a chance. You can't say I'm not a good mother. You know what would happen if the people found out about your secret," her mother insisted, but Aleana raised an eyebrow and pushed away from the windowsill.

With an angry swipe, Aleana put out the candle-chandelier and at her back, the sun went dark as the open door to her bedroom slammed shut. Even in the darkness, Aleana cast a shadow, a shadow much larger than she would in the sun.

"You mean this secret, Mama? The one caused by your own selfish wish? It's not my fault that you impressed my godmother enough for her to give me this wonderful little gift."

The room darkened more, and in the gloom, Aleana watched as her mother backed away. The usually sparkling gems at her mother's neck looked like black stone, and Aleana knew that hate and fear would be all she'd see in her mother's eyes.

"Most mothers ask for beauty or happiness or love for their daughters. You asked for power." Her mother put her back to Aleana. "Power is what you got."

"Put back the lights, Aleana," her mother whispered, and with a sigh, Aleana did. With a wave of her hand, the light returned, but in the wake of the dark, it seemed tainted and Aleana's wavering strength and emotional control felt it. "So, you choose death."

"Yes."

With a huff, her mother swung on her heel, her voluminous, purple gown swishing around her feet as she left Aleana alone. Aleana waited until the door closed before she flung herself on her bed, burying her head into her pillow.

The pillow muffled her cries, but Aleana knew that the guards outside her room would not come to comfort her like they might've once. No one would comfort a prisoner marked for death. No one would comfort the god-daughter of the most fearsome dark fairy in the land.

Or at least that's what she thought, but then her window opened.

Author's Note:

And so ends chapter one! This book is also available on wattpad under the same name, if you're curious.