Supposedly the happiest day of her life, but all Asharra De Silve could think about was tearing the damn veil off of her head, stomping on the bouquet she held, and making a break for it right through the ornate doors of the chapel. “Lady Asharra?” one of the attendants ventured in a nervous voice. The woman should be nervous. She was a distant cousin, one of the legions of family relying on Ash marrying today and getting the whole family out of the shit they’d gotten themselves into. Would have been nice if they’d asked her first rather than just frigging selling her to the highest bidder. “Yes, Serazette?” Ash clenched her jaw, grinding her teeth together with enough force to crack nuts. If she could have screamed she would have, but her crazy bloodlines ruled that one right out. A complex and convoluted race, the Fae were made up of many species. The Seelie and the Unseelie Courts partnered each other in a never ending, symbiotic dance. Some of Ash’s blood, from her father, came from the shadows of the Midnight Host.
