Twisted Perfection
Prologue
My name is Kaetlyn. I am the only daughter of a well-loved baron and beautiful countess who wedded many nights ago in the middle of winter. My mother, the Countess Gwenhyfar LeRase was fair with chocolate-brown hair and pale green-grey eyes and a golden countenance. My father, Lord Byron Dewer of Willowbrook was pale as well, but unlike the sunny Countess, had dangerous mood swings that could send him from cheerfully happy to angry and cold within a heartbeat. The only time I can remember him truly happy without the worry of a mood swing,was when he was with my mother.The servants used to whisper that it came from his rumored vampyric ancestry, and when I became older, it became more obvious to me through the steel grey of his eyes and the violence in his nature that he bore the crul blood of Vampyres.
I was born on a cold and chilly morning in autumn, the sun barely showing above the beautiful apple orchards that have always dotted our land. I was born squalling and red and too small; my father seriously considered setting me out in the chill, but my mother pleaded with him for my life, despite my twisted foot, for yes, I was born witha terrible affliction that keeps me bound to this accursed house. When I was born, my right foot was twisted, toes turned into my arch and my ankle slightly lopsided; I've always walked with a limp, without the grace the other girls of nobility take for granted.
When I was young, five or six, my mother took ill with the plague that was sweeping through the country at the time and died, leaving me with my grieving father. The only thing she left me were memories of her love and a lock of her beautiful hair.When I grew older, I used to hold that hair next to mine, craving any resemblance to her famed beauty. Eventually, my hair became an almost identical match to it, thick and curling like the Lady Gwen's.
I resemble her in many ways, just like so many other daughters of my blood, for my mother was of fae and mortal descent. It showed in me through the softness in my face, the dark of my skin and smallness of my own body. My father shows in me as well, though, my silver eyes the same cold shade as his and every once in a while I heard the small rumor of something about our airs when he was happy that was alike to mine. But my mother shone more, and that was what caused his fall. Our fall.
It's the reason the Duchess Eliza of Wren was brought into my life.