Page 41 of A Beautifully Crafted Lie

“Not all humans have the gift.” She sighs. “An ability to tap into Nature’s energy and make it your own.” The faint scent of her perfume lingers in the air, as sweet as jasmine. “They, we, harvest those who have the gift before they can harness it. The first faeries were fiercely religious, reliant on the gods of old, performing sacrifices and crediting all their fortunes to them. Over generations, we’ve become more self reliant, neglecting the gods that blessed us with health and immortality. When they turned their backs on us, we were cursed to seek our own immortality, turning our self reliance into a curse. Of all the gods, Nature is the only one still willing to share her magic with us. She loved the world they created too much to fully turn her back on it, but even so, she calls for balance. Over the years, Nature has slowly rejected us, turning us into hideous and magic-starved monsters because of our gluttonous use of her magic. Ironic that mortal blood, especially a witch’s, was the key to striking weariness from our immortal bones, preventing our deterioration. Perhaps that’s why mortals are reaped early, before you can learn to fight back. Before our remedy is taken from us completely.” Her laugh is humourless and cruel. “But don’t worry, no one is sinking their teeth into you, not while you’re a guest in Odhran’s home. That would be rude.”

I look into the mirror and see her standing behind me. “Get dressed and come down for breakfast,” she instructs. “And hurry. They don’t leave leftovers.” She disappears from the mirror’s reflection, closing my bedroom door as she leaves.

Aed stirs in my mind, his form so large and powerful that I have to brace myself. “Go to breakfast. Keep your strength. I will educate you on the histories later.” His mouth stretches into a smile, his teeth as sharp as razors in the dark depths of my mind. There’s no getting used to him.

The clothing left for me is similar to the outfit Eadan wore when I first saw her in the market square. Tight black pants hugged her legs while the knee-high leather boots creaked softly as she walked. A bishop-sleeved black tunic top peeked out from underneath her fitted leather corset, accentuating her figure. It suits her personality perfectly. Meanwhile, I’ll be a complete imposter wearing her clothes. Maybe that’s the point, to show me how out of place I am. It’s a feeling I’m accustomed to.

Beneath the pile of clothing, I catch a glimpse of something yellow. It’s not a vibrant summer yellow, rather an autumn yellow. Without hesitation, I reach under Eadan’s loaned items and retrieve my cloak, tied into a neat roll. I bring it to my nose, inhaling the smell of home. A small smile threatens to surface, but I shove it back down.

Pulling the large white shirt over my head, I’m met with the faint aroma of peppermint and cinnamon lingering on the fabric. My nose wrinkles, practically seeing Odhran’s face before me. I waste no time throwing it as far as it can fly. Carefully, I unwrap the bandages encircling my chest, anticipating, at the very least, a twinge of pain. Holding my breath, I look into the full-length mirror reflecting my scars, their countless silver and pink stripes across my back. I’m intimately familiar with each one. They serve as a constant reminder that trust must be earned, not freely given.

A reminder that when love fades it leaves an enormous gaping hole of nothingness in its wake.

What’s missing are the fresh wounds from my governess’s latest lashings, those that bled through the bodice of my dress last night. There’s no sign that they were ever there to start with. The only marks are those carved into my memory. Odhran cleaned them after he brought me here. He’d insisted on it when I was too tired to fight him. There was a strange sort of comfort in being cared for by him, even though I remember it like I would a distant dream.

I take pride in my reflection, not hiding behind heavy skirts or long-sleeved shirts. Eadan’s soft black pants cling to my body, allowing me to move freely. The corset accentuates my waist, making me appear delicate and fierce all at once, yet it doesn’t constrict me like the ones I wore back home. Even though my hair is braided as usual, falling over my right shoulder, I look noticeably different. Stronger. I like it.

As I walk down the hallway, it’s as quiet as it was when I ventured through last night. The wooden floor and emerald walls bask in the morning sun, streaming through glass panels embedded in the ceiling. Light cascades in a waterfall of golden rays pooling at my feet.

Intricate carvings of rich gold adorn the arches above each door, their details more than decorative scribbles conveying a message in a dialect I can’t read.

“By the sun, life it wields…

“Under the moon, we dance in fields…

“Through balance, Nature heals,” Aed’s voice purrs in my mind. Of course, he can read it. I make a mental note to thank him later.

The walls are bare, which I assumed them to be when my fingertips dragged across them in the dark. No family portraits or art pieces hang from them, nothing to make this resemble a lived-in home.

The large double doors I hid behind are still open, as is a concealed door covered in wallpaper beside them. My finger traces along the edge of the new door. The wallpaper is like velvet, but the edge is sharp. My eyes strain to see into the dark expanse beyond it.

Odhran’s amused chuckle rolls through the double doors and settles in my tightening chest. The way he’d touched me after pulling me into his lap… he did it to embarrass me, to get a reaction. He went too far, and my ears burn in mortification.

I follow the sound of his voice through the lounge as his words become clearer. I have a role to play if I’m to escape from this place, if I’m to keep my word and free Laoise.

“Sloan, for fuck’s sake, stop inhaling your food,” he complains. “You can’t possibly taste what you’re consuming.”

“You know you’re wasting your time.” Eadan sighs. My heartbeat is too loud as I approach the dining room. Pull yourself together. My jaw aches with tension. Sucking in a breath, I step into their line of sight.

Eadan reclines in a high-back dining chair, picking her nails with the sharp tip of a small golden knife. All the confidence I felt when I saw my reflection in the mirror completely evaporates when their eyes focus on me. I don’t allow it to show. Schooling my expression into one as cold as ice, I meet each of their gazes, one by one.

Eadan, Sloan, Odhran, and a man I haven’t met before are all seated around a large oak table. Their eyes rake over me from head to toe. All except Odhran, whose back faces me instead. Anger will be my strength. My hands clench into fists at my side.

“Don’t be rude,” a third voice, sweet like honey, says from somewhere in the kitchen. As if materialising out of thin air, the owner gracefully rounds the corner, wearing a smile so radiant it could blind her enemies. She has dark purple skin, which glows softly under the light, and her hair, flowing like liquid amethyst, shimmers with every movement. Playfully, she slaps Sloan behind his head, her touch gentle yet commanding, while her entirely white eyes stare down at him.

“She is a lesser faerie. They are subservient to the high fae. Harmless. Clawless,” Aed answers, sensing my unspoken question. “Another pet.”

“Where are your manners?” She narrows her eyes at Sloan, turning her head to show her pointed ears with tufts of purple fur on their tips.

“Cut it out!” he protests. “She’s not my guest.”

A chair scrapes across the floor, reverberating through the room. My head snaps toward the sound. Odhran. His silent command is clear as he pulls the chair from the table, not bothering to look at me. My lips press together as he continues to eat his pastry, oblivious to the tension between us.

I fixate on the back of his head, a tempting target from where I stand. However, I know it would be foolish to act on such impulses. An aroma of warm, buttery dough fills the air, making my mouth water. The table is stacked with an array of delicacies—tartlets, pastries, rolls, fruits, salads, and cheeses. My stomach growls audibly, and I have to swallow the saliva pooling in my mouth.

“Sit,” he commands, his voice grating on my senses. Ignoring him, I march past, refusing to be controlled. The room falls into silence, all eyes fixed on him, not me. Odhran sets aside the remaining half of his pastry, reaching for his glass instead.

Determined to make a point, I take a seat at the opposite end of the table. Sloan laughs, not trying to conceal his amusement, while Odhran’s expression remains anything but entertained.