Rebirth of a Fey Lord

A maid's voice echoed through the quiet halls of the mansion, a high-pitched call that was equal parts urgent and exasperated. "Young master! Where are you?! It's time for your sword lesson!"

Eogan stifled a laugh from his hiding spot, crammed into a narrow closet with his legs tangled beneath a heap of neatly folded clothes. His body was hidden behind a row of delicate dresses that swayed ever so slightly in the still air, and unless someone went to the trouble of digging through the pile, no one would find him. He could hear the maid's footsteps growing louder as she scurried through the corridors.

Her voice gradually faded, and with it, Eogan's tension. He waited a few more moments, allowing the silence to settle before slipping out of his hiding place. His heart raced with the thrill of his little escape, and the tightness in his chest reminded him of how much he hated the monotonous routine of noble life.

The room before him was quiet, bathed in the soft light of spring filtering through the window. The scent of fresh flowers drifted in, carried by the breeze, and Eogan inhaled deeply, savoring the fragrance. A grin tugged at the corners of his lips. "I just want to play in the field of flowers outside the town. I hate swords."

The window offered a view of the estate's sprawling gardens, a glimpse of freedom just beyond the confines of his father's mansion. Eogan's gaze shifted downward to the ground below—two stories down, to be precise. The drop would be perilous for anyone not prepared. He glanced at the large oak vanity nearby and mulled over his options.

"I should have time... before the maid comes back," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Eogan was fortunate that his father had only assigned him one maid. It made sneaking away much easier, especially since she never seemed to notice when he'd slip away for peace. With quick, precise movements, he moved toward the bed. He pulled the blankets and sheets off with practiced care, knotting them together to create a makeshift rope. It wasn't perfect, but it would suffice.

Once the knots were secure, he tied one end around the sturdy leg of the vanity, giving it a few experimental tugs to ensure it could bear his weight. Satisfied, he tossed the other end of the rope out the window, his eyes scanning the ground below. A storage shed sat beneath the window, and the chances of anyone being inside were slim.

Eogan swung one leg over the sill, gripping the edge of the window frame tightly, then followed with his other leg. The rope dangled below, the coldness of the stone wall pressing against his feet. His heart thudded in his chest as he slowly shifted his weight and reached for the rope. He wasn't tall, and falling from this height could break something.

Carefully, he began to descend, one hand after the other. He was halfway down when the sound of the bedroom door creaking open made his blood run cold.

"What in the world?" A voice younger than his own rang out in confusion. Eogan flinched, his grip tightening on the rope as he tried to hurry his descent.

"Wait!" the voice called again, now closer, its tone laced with curiosity. "Big brother Eogan! What are you doing with the bed sheets?"

Eogan froze, glancing upward. His heart sank, and he saw the small figure of his younger sister, Aine, leaning out of the window, her auburn hair tousled by the breeze.

"I want to go to the field of flowers," he said sheepishly, trying to cover his surprise with a grin.

Aine pouted, her small face scrunching up in that familiar way when she didn't get her way. "No fair! I want to go there too!" Her voice was high-pitched and filled with playful frustration.

Eogan chuckled, a bit more nervously than he intended. "Do you think you can climb this rope quietly like I am? If so, I'll take you with me."

Aine's eyes lit up with excitement. Without hesitation, she crawled out the window, determined to join her older brother in his escapade.

"Woah, be careful, Aine! If you fall, you'll get hurt!" Eogan called, his voice sharp and concerned.

She nodded, but her small hands trembled as she clutched the rope. Eogan's eyes narrowed with worry as he watched her struggle, her grip slipping.

Without thinking, he shifted beneath her, his arms reaching out to catch her before she could fall. "You don't have far to go. Let go, and I'll catch you."

Aine hesitated momentarily, then, with a squeal, let go and tumbled into his arms. Eogan grinned, catching her effortlessly before gently setting her on her feet.

But before they could even step, a loud voice rang out from the path below.

"Well, now, what's this?" A burly gardener, his sun-weathered skin and worn straw hat casting a long shadow as he approached. His expression was a mixture of surprise and concern.