Dawnlark Plains rake my teeth 'gainst your beating heart

Wait. Back in the the fabled glow of the faerie weald, had her father not told her the same? Be patient dearest, and wait for the fireflies dance. Aoibh was a doubtful peer in her father's eyes, and had yet to master true patience. Perhaps she could (only now) wait a time for an arrival, or be told to wait for a sign, as she was to be now. But wait for opportunity? Wait for the prospect of grandeur to grace her? Wait to beloved and accepted? She had not waited for any of those things, and perhaps it had cost her a place in the faerie court. 

If that was the case, then her sister Deidra, she had no right to banished from the faerie's domain. Unlike her, she had waited for the impending and luminous ball, while the young less than fae was escorted to their own living spaces by her mother.She wasn't particularly fond of the memories spent with her lifegiver, but they did not apply to her now as it would seem.

A slight tip of the head, as graceful as a more than faerie. Soon. That crown would fall of the little king's head and would decorate her own place of trophies and achievements.