Page 31 of A Beautifully Crafted Lie

Anger washes through me in waves of heat. Hearing the sharp intake of breath between her lips and seeing her widened eyes only makes it worse. This is exactly what I was hoping to avoid. “What the fuck, Ashglo!” I exclaim in a whisper, taking the hanger from her grip. It scorches my skin. If I’d shoved my hand in an open fire, it wouldn’t hurt this much.

I open my hand, slow enough to not give her the satisfaction of inflicted pain, and drop her makeshift weapon. You’re either a clever little creature or a miserably stupid one. The sound of the hanger clanging on marble is loud enough to alert everyone in the room. Perfect! I squeeze my eyes shut, unable to keep my annoyance bridled. I do not take well to being attacked. Despite her protesting, I refuse to release her wrist. Instead, I tighten my grip, and her eyes widen further with another sharp intake of breath. She winces. “Stop fighting me!” I warn her as quietly as I can manage. She kicks my shin instead.

Eamon is beside me before I can silence her. “Well, well, what do we have here?” He runs his thumb across his lip. To him, she’s a meal to devour. His meal to devour.

“She’s mine,” I practically growl. My jaw locks as I sense Sloan and Eadan judging me from across the room. It’s hard to rein in my emotions when raw energy still pulses through my veins.

“Yours?” Bryndis hisses at me, pulling away.

“Quiet!” I retort, attempting to tame my temper but losing.

Eamon’s laughter is anything but reaffirming. “Doesn’t sound like it wants to be yours, dear brother. Perhaps the mortal would prefer someone else entirely.”

“Are we not allowed our spoils?” I straighten, looking him square in his eyes. It’s a challenge, putting me on thin ice. “Do you really wish to deny me twice in one day? I’ve already claimed her. She wears my seal around her neck.” Her eyes fall to her chest and the necklace resting against it. Loathing burns like wildfire in her eyes.

Eamon’s lips curl into a menacing smile in direct contrast to his refined features and shimmering blonde hair, which curls against his golden threaded collar. He reaches for the pendant I’d gifted her, deliberately grazing his fingers over her chest. She tenses, and I don’t miss the deadly look in her eyes, this time directed at him.

“Pity. Your creature could’ve turned this dull night around. I’m in no mood for soiled goods, though. It’s yours to do with as you please.” He waves us off before retreating to the other side of the room. With great effort, I school my face into an expressionless mask. I would glamour her if she weren’t wearing the very thing that prohibits me from doing so.

Sparing no time, I march her straight out of the ballroom, mindful not to touch the injuries on her back. We walk through the dark passage where I’d tried to hide her, past the swinging doors and the two distracted soldiers instructed to capture anyone attempting to escape, and into the abandoned kitchen on the other side. Plates of partially prepared treats remain on the countertops. Salmon, avocado, strawberries dipped in dark chocolate. Broken champagne glasses are scattered across the floor, crunching beneath my boots. She’s barefoot. She must have removed her shoes to sneak up on me to quite literally stab me in the back. I’ll be lying if I say I’m not at least a little proud of her attempt.

She spins so fast I barely follow the movement. Her hand is raised and eyes are burning with wrath. I catch her arm before her hand strikes my face. “Stop trying to attack me!”

“Fuck you!” she practically spits. My chest tightens in response. Closing my fist, I feel my knuckles crack with tension.

“I’ve just saved your life. A little appreciation would be nice.” My eyes narrow at her.

“Thanks?” She glares back at me. “THANKS?” Her voice echoes through the kitchen. “You are a monster! And you want THANKS!” I notice the slight quiver in her chin, the glistening of moisture building in her eyes. My grip slackens on her arm, which is still raised level with my face. “I won’t show false appreciation, neither will I thank you for what you’ve done.”

Good.

“Did I or did I not tell you that you should be scared of me?” My lips press into a firm line. I should have kept my distance. “Stay clear of my brother and his men. We leave in the morning.” I release her completely and take a step back, putting much needed distance between us. I would have locked her bedroom door if I’d known she’d be this stubborn. “And no, there’s no use in running, Slìbhìn.”

SEVENTEEN

BRYNDIS ASHGLO

In Hebrew the word “tesher” means tying or binding. It can be said that the act of tessering, traveling through space, is to tie your current location to your desired destination with a thread of magic.

The Legends of The Forgotten, by Tibor Harper

Thoughts, broken and scattered, whirl through my mind like a raging tornado. They have Laoise. The Others are real. I can’t leave her. What can I do? Odhran is a monster. The worst of them all. I exit the kitchen in a posture my governess would be proud of. Every step I take is a hundred times slower than my instincts scream for them to be, but he’s watching, and I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me scared. Odhran’s arms are folded across his chest, and a scowl is etched onto his face. I can feel him watching me leave.

My fingers twitch at my sides, palms damp with sweat. The muffled pleas from the ballroom have my stomach in a knot. The cries of families being torn apart are pure torture. I’m not a coward. I’m not running away like a coward. I’ll save her, somehow.

“Do you not feel the wounds stretch and bleed beneath your dress? They deserve this fate.” The creature’s words are a bitter taste in my mouth. He isn’t wrong, but I ignore him anyway.

Rounding the corner, I run, staying on the balls of my feet. My heart races along with every step I take. Odhran’s brother is here. Odhran captured them, captured Laoise, for his brother! My dress swishes wildly behind me as I raise the skirt above my knees. I need to leave the manor, need to find a way to save Laoise, need to find Declan so that he can help me. If he isn’t in the ballroom, and he isn’t in the kitchen where I saw him go… he must be outside. He’ll know what to do. He’ll know how to save my family and everyone else.

I reach my usual exit in record time. Grabbing my cloak from the brass hook by the door, I throw it over my shoulders. My hands tremble, and my legs shake. My mind may not be in acceptance of what I just witnessed, but my body receives the message loud and clear. If I stay, I’ll be reaped along with them. Adrenaline and undiluted panic flood my system, making my hands shake so that it’s near impossible to fasten the clasp around my neck. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Declan. It was his red hair I saw. It had to be. I studied the crowd of shadow-gagged faces over and over, purposefully looking for that same tuft of chaotic red hair and green eyes. He isn’t there. He isn’t in the ballroom, I assure myself. My need to find him builds further. He’ll know what to do. Declan always has a plan mapped out in his mind, and his plans are much better than mine. I nod once, decided, willing courage into my bones as I touch the cold copper doorknob that will lead me directly to the stable yard.

There’s no use running, Slìbhìn. Odhran’s warning is a knife in my chest, making me hesitate.

Standing in the open door, I look at the path stretched out before me as the cold air stings my face. On a heavy exhale, my breath forms a plume of white, the way it did when we snuck out a few nights before. Unlike that night, my teeth don’t clatter, not even when I see a blanket of frost spreading over the gravel and across my path. So little time has passed since that night, but somehow, it feels like a lifetime ago.

There’s not so much as a breeze blowing, but I taste the tang of soot in the air, heavy and suffocating. My chest tightens in response. Whether guilt brings it on or my weak lungs, I can’t tell. All I know is that it’s insufferable.