Page 33 of A Beautifully Crafted Lie

“Fine?”

“I’ll go with you. I won’t put up a fight as long as we can strike a deal.” Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t, my mother always said. The problem is that I know neither of the two.

“I don’t enter bargains, least of all with a human who can’t be bound by its terms,” he growls, drawing closer. I should be scared of him, but I’m not.

“Careful. Bargains are dangerous, especially when sealed with a geas.”

“I’ll go with you without a fuss, as long as you agree to spare Declan and my sister.” I meet his light grey eyes instead of the black I saw earlier. Though I should fear the latter, the grey causes me greater discomfort. Under his stare, I feel naked, like he sees right through me.

“No.” His answer is plain, bored even.

“But…”

“The girl and the boy are under my brother’s hand, not mine. I can’t enter bargains on his behalf. I can only swear not to harm them myself.”

“Bryn!” My name is called out from the dark. Declan runs toward us from the far edge of the stable block, where the horses sleep in their small paddocks.

“He doesn’t know,” I tell the silver-haired prince in front of me. “He doesn’t know that I’m… a threat.” My heart lurches. I’ve never said the words aloud, never fully accepted the reality.

Odhran is livid. His piercing gaze confirms it as black leaches from his pupils to drown the light grey.

Declan’s eyes narrow, studying me, then the man at my side. His hand goes to his hip, to the small utility knife he usually wears on his belt. The iron utility knife. Shadows rise around his feet as he approaches, increasing his pace.

“Wait!” I plead, turning to face Odhran. “I said I’ll go with you without causing any trouble.”

“Humans lie.”

“I promise. Just don’t hurt him,” I beg.

With a groan from the annoyed prince, the shadows fade.

“We don’t have time to waste,” he informs me, then he’s gone. There’s nothing but darkness where he stood a second ago. My head spins, but there’s no time to theorise what I’ve seen.

“The Others! They’re here! And Laoise… you need to help me free Laoise!”

Declan’s hands grip my shoulders. He searches the dark corridor behind me, narrowing his eyes. “Are you alright? You aren’t hurt?” he asks without so much as acknowledging my plea.

“Declan, they took Laoise. She’s been reaped! I need your help!” I grab his arm, my knuckles turning white while tears blur my vision, but he doesn’t react.

“I am sorry, young one. We will find another way,” the creature says. I recall my mother’s book and the charms one should wear to protect themself against being glamoured. Declan isn’t wearing his usual red rowan berries.

I only shake my head in response. Emotion swallows my voice, knowing what I need to say. Goodbye. While I still can.

“You have no other choice.” It’s a gentle caress beneath my skin.

“What are you doing with him alone in the dark?” Declan’s disbelief turns to accusation as he looks down at me, pressing his lips into a thin line.

“I… I was looking for you.” My voice cracks. I can’t believe this is how it all ends. How my life ends. “I saw you at the ball. I ran after you… called after you.” Tears burn my eyes, but I blink them away.

“I wasn’t at the ball, Bryn.” His eyes are void of emotion when he releases my shoulders. “I’ve been out here with the horses all night. Melody isn’t nursing her foal. Someone needs to help her or the foal will die. You know that; my mother explained it to you when you came looking for me. She told me.” He shakes his head, his movements becoming erratic. “Lies are less obvious if they’re based on facts, Bryn. Perhaps it’s something you should keep in mind.” He waves his hand while he talks, pointing his finger directly at me. His words strike me like a blade to the chest.

“But I saw you.” I twist my fingers in my skirt, skimming past the subject, avoiding what I need to say. I hate goodbyes. People always leave me, but now I’m the one leaving.

“I don’t know who you saw, but it wasn’t me.” He aims to walk past, still searching the dark corridor, but it’s not curiosity fuelling him, it’s anger.

“Declan.” I take his hand, and he stops. “I’m sorry.”

“For what exactly?” He glowers at me, dividing his attention between me and his search for Odhran.