Page 50 of A Beautifully Crafted Lie

He scowls at me from across the room. “Come.” She pulls away to take my hand instead, leading me through the same door we entered. I don’t close it behind me, wanting to hear Prince Eamon rake that bastard over the coals. I wait for him to claim what belongs to his kingdom, in his castle… Bryn.

Prince Eamon speaks first. “If you came to the castle when Father called, I wouldn’t need to venture down to your hovel to speak with you.” A long pause is followed by the sound of glass clinking against a hard surface. “The coronation is in three weeks.”

The lesser faerie rises from her seat the moment we enter the dining room. “Let me get you some tea.” She darts to the kitchen, then back again, biting her nails while she walks. Her expression is fixed in one of agony. “Some cookies, perhaps?”

I don’t answer and raise my hand, dismissing her offer.

“No thank you, Àine,” Bryn says softly, taking a seat at the dining table across from me. “I can’t tell you what a relief it is to see you.” She reaches for my hand.

Closing my fingers around hers, I squeeze, momentarily forgetting the conversation at my back. I lean in, close enough to whisper, “I’ll get you out. You won’t need to stay with the bastard prince much longer. Perhaps not a moment longer.” Instead of a smile, a frown settles on her face.

“You know I won’t set foot in that place,” Prince Odhran barks out.

“It’s a coronation, not a dinner invite,” Prince Eamon yells back. “As my general, you…”

An object crashes against the wall or the floor in the room behind me. Loud and unexpected. A startled Àine returns with a tray of cups and sliced fruit, porcelain rattling as she comes closer. Tea floods the saucers around the cups when she sets the tray on the table.

“You won’t release me, will you?” Odhran’s voice holds a threat. I don’t look at Bryn. Instead, I turn in my seat, shamelessly prying. “You gave me your word, Eamon. You gave me your fucking word.”

“If it’s because of Father…” Prince Eamon starts.

“That vile thing is not my father.”

“You are being absurd! And disrespectful! If he heard you, he would have you flayed.” The returning snarl confirms my prince’s irritation. He’s close to reaching his breaking point. The explosion will be epic.

“Am I?”

“You will obey!” Prince Eamon’s tone manages to cut through bone.

“Don’t tell me what to do! You won’t like my response, brother,” Odhran hisses.

“Is that a threat?” A long pause follows.

“Let’s take a walk, shall we?” Bryn is already on her feet before I nod my approval. She’s beautiful. So beautiful she steals my breath when I look at her, the way her slip falls over her curves. As quickly as it vanished, my anger returns. How much of her has that brute seen? How much has he touched?

I follow her to the front door, watching her night dress dance behind her as she walks. Her feet are bare, and her braid sweeps down her spine. She leads me to the doorstep, climbing onto the narrow wall beside the front door. We’d spent most of our lives together, but here, in another man’s house, something feels strained. I forget how to act around her. What to say or do. Our familiarity is lost over the span of two miserable days apart.

“So, tell me, how will you get me out?” She speaks so softly her voice is barely a whisper.

“What has he done to you?” I ask, looking deeply into her eyes. I love how they don’t match, how one is half blue and brown. “You can tell me.” I don’t take a seat beside her, coming to stand in front of her instead. Her knees push against my stomach, her chest rising and falling with each rapid breath. The sight of her body, the outline of her chest… My breathing quickens, too.

“Nothing.” She bites her lip, shifting back on the ledge so we’re no longer touching. “But these past two days have changed me. I’m not the girl you knew back home.”

I want to lift her off the wall and take her away from here, but I can’t. I’m bound by a vow I can’t break. Even if I could, they would only find us and most likely behead us for our transgression. They’d put our heads on a spike as a warning to anyone else who dares shirk their responsibilities to the crown.

“He’s hurt you. I swear, he’ll pay for this.”

“You’re not listening to me, Declan. Odhran is infuriating, a total ass, and a secret drunk, but he hasn’t given me any reason to believe that he means me harm. Not at the moment at least…” Her voice goes quiet as she looks down at her hands resting in her lap. “He isn’t responsible for my changing.” Her lips thin into a line, and her eyes narrow at me, as they always do when she’s upset or before she tries to shove me to the ground.

“You must guard your mind, Bryn. Faeries love to compel humans. They take pleasure in torment. You may believe yourself to be telling the truth, but they mess with human minds. He’s probably messed with yours, too.” Pity settles like bags of grain on my shoulders. All my life my mother has prepared me for these risks, but hers didn’t.

“Can we not talk about Odhran for a moment?” She pulls back her shoulders, putting distance between us. Something in the way she casually says his name, like he’s her equal, irks me to the pit of my stomach. There’s one thing I know to be true, and it’s that the bastard prince has harmed her in some way. She may not remember it, but there’s no doubt in my mind. He has a reputation, which exists for a reason. “I need you to tell me what you’ve found out about Laoise. Have you seen her?”

I suck in a breath, indulging her change in topic. “Your sister is in Prince Eamon’s service.”

Her face lights up at the mention of Laoise. “Is she alright?” Her eyes sparkle, searching mine, leaning forward to close the distance between us.

I smile at her, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. “Yes. She’s fine. She’ll be just fine. Your parents are safe, too. They’re still at the manor.”