Page 7 of A Beautifully Crafted Lie

“Don’t get your hopes up,” the creature drawls, casting a lingering shadow in the corner of the room.

“You’re wrong about her!”

“Ask and find out,” it challenges. Its shadow disappears, followed by a rush of wind in my ears, but the curtains don’t stir. It’s all in my head.

“Didn’t anyone come to help you?” I ask, carefully placing her tea on her daffodil yellow dresser. I hate the fact that I obeyed the voice’s command, but a part of me needs to know if it’s right.

“Everyone is busy. Idoniya has another fever,” she tells me, looking down at her bed. “Everyone is with her, trying to help. They say she might not make it this time.”

“See,” it whispers, “selfish.” I despise it even more.

I nod slowly, not sure what to say. There’s no appropriate response besides, “I hope she recovers quickly.”

“I hope she dies,” Laoise says with a sniff, making me almost choke on my own spit. She looks up at me with swollen red eyes, but there’s no sign of regret in her expression.

“What? Why?” Those two single words catch in my throat.

“Because nature calls for balance,” the creature answers, its shadow creeping across the ceiling like fingers reaching for me.

“I’m not talking to you!”

“It’s not…” she says, pausing to clear her throat. Her eyes glisten up at me, searching for something I can’t place. “It’s less cruel than living a life like hers. She can’t go outside. She doesn’t have friends…”

“Still!” My eyes widen.

“Still?” She frowns back at me. “Do you want her to suffer?”

“I want her to live.” I want to know her.

I stare at her for a long while, waiting for her to continue because I sure as hell am not. There are some things we can think but should never say aloud, this being one.

“I just think…”

I take her hand and unwrap the bandage, cutting her sentence short. She winces with a pained hiss and closes her eyes. Her hand looks terrible, but not broken. I’m not a religious person. I don’t believe in supernatural and divine beings, but if I did, perhaps there is a god smiling down on me. Perhaps Airmed, goddess of healing, favors me after all. “I’m sorry, you know. I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have.”

For a moment, she stops reacting to the pain and looks up at me. Her expression, though fleeting, is one of accusation. “Why? What are you hiding from me?” Her eyes dart from left to right, waiting for my answer. Waiting for the right answer.

“Nothing but my undergarments and my journal,” I lie, forcing a laugh. Something that is fast becoming a regular activity. I regret it immediately.

“I don’t like it.” Her chin falls to her chest, shaking her head gently, her curls barely swaying. “I don’t like the feeling that you don’t trust me.” She doesn’t look at me when she speaks.

“I do!”

“Liar,” the creature mocks.

“I really hope so. You’re the only sister I can actually talk to. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Guilt renews itself, begging for me to tell her the truth, but the creature is right. I don’t trust her, not completely, and I can’t risk it. Not when I’ll be risking more than only myself; it’s Declan’s life, too.

Tucking the end of the bandage in at her wrist, I give her a smile. “I brought you some tea.” Her expression brightens.

“Thank you.” She climbs onto her bed and takes a seat next to me, wrapping her arms around my neck. “I love you, Brynney.”

“Best keep that in mind when you taste what I brought you,” I whisper, tightening my arms around her.

She pulls back with a frown, then looks at the cup on her dresser, her nose crinkling ever so slightly.

“I’m afraid all the milk in the kitchen has spoiled, so you’ll have to take it black,” I tell her, restraining my amusement when her nostrils flare in disgust. Every canister of milk. All curdled at the same time. We’ve never run out of milk and always have more than we need, but to have them all go bad at once is odd. A sign of ill favor. “ I added a few herbs to help you with the pain.”

“I may love you, but you clearly don’t love me.” Her lip curls as she looks at the cup now in her grasp, all excitement and enthusiasm gone.