Page 66 of A Beautifully Crafted Lie

“I can give you details on Odhran…” I clear my throat. “The bastard prince’s plans.”

Brogan places the ring on his finger, looking me dead in my eyes. “And why would you do such a thing, pet?”

“Prince Eamon holds my sister prisoner in his castle. I want to take her home.” I draw my shoulders back, forgetting to keep the scowl off my face.

“Your prince doesn’t want to help you himself?” he drawls, leaning against the velvet pillows behind him. “Or are you bored of his company?” A smile plays wickedly at the corners of his mouth.

“He won’t help me, and I don’t care to beg for scraps at his feet.”

His smile broadens as he stands. “You understand that the outcome may or may not be favourable for your prince?”

“I understand.” My stomach turns as every muscle in my body screams in protest.

The king chuckles to himself, running a cold finger along my jaw. “I’ll agree to a bargain on one condition. Be my personal bloodmaid. I’ve longed to taste new blood ever since Darragh claimed sole rights to the humans.”

“Promise my sister’s safety.” I swallow under the scrutiny of his lustful eye.

“Provide me with information on your prince’s plans. How many soldiers align with him personally? Where will they strike and when? And I’ll guarantee your mortal sister’s safe passage. Only if you’ll be mine to feast on for a full faerie year.” His breath smells of honey, warm against my skin.

“Each day in faerie is thirteen in the human realm. Careful what you agree to.”

“A full faerie month,” I counter, earning his laughter in response. I don’t want to offer a faerie minute, but a month is already a laughable counter offer, anything less would have me thrown out without further discussion.

“You won’t be able to talk of our agreement to anyone.” Another curse of secrecy. The second one I’ve entered. I give him a curt nod of acceptance. “I look forward to our time together, pet,” he says, taking a golden knife from his servant’s golden tray beside him. He slices the pad of his index finger, and blood beads instantly, dripping into a small golden bowl. The servant bows, his eyes dull and expressionless, before he offers me the same tray, the knife and bowl resting atop it. I lift the blade, the sharp singing of metal scraping metal filling the air. My chest tightens as I press it against my skin, King Brogan’s blood still fresh upon the blade. My blood pools around the tip, mixing with his before dripping into the small bowl his servant holds carefully beneath my hand. A flash of emotion crosses the boy’s eyes when he looks up at me. Pity. An icy shiver runs through me as it did when Aed sealed our bargain with a geas, and like before, another line burns through my skin, one only I can see.

When Brogan’s summoner delivers me back to their camp, an anxious Eadan spares no time tessering me back to my room. “What did he say? What’s the plan?” she asks anxiously.

I shake my head, unable to form an explanation. My bedroom comes back into focus but fails to provide relief.

“Alright,” she sighs dramatically, dropping her hand from my elbow as she begins to pace. “Tell me what your plan entails outside of your newly formed bargain, which I assume you entered. You know it’s beyond idiotic to enter a bargain with that fae, right?”

“Not so idiotic if he’s dead.” I glance at her, feeling nausea creep up my throat. Not long ago, I claimed my first life, and here I am plotting my next murder, no less a monster than the company I keep. “All we need is to poison Brogan, Eamon, and Darragh at the coronation.”

“And how do we get our hands on poison? Your beloved nightshade has been eradicated from the lands. I saw to it myself.” She looks at me as if I’d lost my mind completely.

I glare back at her. “So it was you! How? Why?” My heart pounds heavily, drowning out the sound of her footsteps.

“You expect us to visit your town, with all the history shared between your kind and ours, while you’re armed with a poison to ensnare us all?” She turns to face me, her eyes narrowed into a glare as deadly as I’ve ever seen on her face. I’ve read the notes in my mother’s book, depicting faeries trapped in iron barred cells, drained of their blood to heal our sick and vulnerable. Blood used to prevent the aging of the wealthy. “I saw you and your boyfriend that night and how devastated you were to find it gone. Don’t tell me you weren’t there to harvest those flowers and berries in preparation for our visit.” Now it all makes sense; why Odhran showed up unannounced, convicting my father of breaking the treaty. He thought we were planning an attack while the truth is we didn’t even know of their existence. We didn’t know, but my father did. I swallow. Who else knew and chose to keep the rest of us in the dark?

“You’re wrong,” I tell her, my voice softer than before. “I brewed it as a tea and drank it myself.”

Her eyebrows rise and eyes widen. “Why?” The question comes as a gasp.

Because I needed to silence Aed who I believed to be a monster. Because I didn’t want to be caught and reaped. Because I’d rather die by my own hand than wither away like my mother. “It doesn’t matter. Not anymore.” I shake my head, unable to tell her the truth even if I wanted to, which I’m not sure I do. “The point is, not everything is gone. I still have a vial left in my armoire, if you can get it.”

A cunning smile slowly spreads her lips. “And then we kill them all.”

I wait for mid-day. They should all be asleep. Even Aed is quiet.

Leaving my room for the first time since we returned, I pad down the passage wearing a shirt two sizes too big, a comfortable pair of pants, soft fluffy socks, and my hair tied into a bun atop my head. My steps are quiet when I round the corner, my movements silent compared to the loud beating of my heart. I awoke after dreaming of the reaping with sweat beading my brow and a knot in my stomach as I remembered my sister’s expression. I also dreamt of Odhran and what he told his brother. I wear his seal around my neck. What if it’s the key I’m looking for? The one that will open the concealed door.

My fingers wrap around the pendant when I round the final corner. The double doors to the living room are open, but the room is as dark as night. Odhran must be in there. I recall his shadows covering the windows when I found him asleep on the bed. The way they pulsed and swayed as though they were an extension of him. I need to close those doors.

Chewing the inside of my lips, I reach for the doorknobs. Crystal decanters lay shattered on the floor. Books lay discarded, thrown from their shelves. All victims of Odhran’s wrath. The hearth is alive with crackling flames, which illuminate two bare feet, visible from the armrest of the green curved couch, the only piece of furniture to remain upright and unharmed. With my eyes fixed on the only part of him I can see, I slowly pull the doors shut.

I finally allow myself to exhale when I’m closed off from the man on the other side. “Right, let’s see if this works,” I say to no one. Removing the pendant from around my neck, I hold it to the door. Nothing happens. There’s no sound or movement. Not so much as a seam appears to indicate any change. I was foolish to think it would work. I’m a fool. A useless, pathetic, mortal fool. My throat closes as I lower my hand, prepared to storm back to my room.

Click.