Page 80 of A Beautifully Crafted Lie

Declan walks past a window on the inside of the castle, like he said he would. His letter scratches against my skin, hidden in the seam of my underwear. My heart races. I haven’t seen Laoise since the night of my family’s ball. Despite the jimsonweed and nettle, a tightness returns to my chest.

“Eadan, I’m sorry. I need to find my sister.” I feel terrible for leaving her, but this is my opportunity, and I’m not sure how long I have.

“Go,” she tells me. “I’ll wait for you inside.” She gives me a look as serious as the one Odhran gave her. “Don’t be long.” Meaning, be back before they drink their last cup of wine.

My hands tremble as I touch Eadan’s arm in gratitude, giving her the last bit of jimsonweed and nettle. And so the time has come, and our plan commences.

“You do not have much time!” Aed says. His concern echoes in the knot building in my stomach. The mark of our bargain burns like fire under my skin. I need to retrieve the mirror to free him, collect Laoise, and get her to Brogan’s carriage so I can free her before he drinks his wine and voids our bargain, then return to the hall so that I can find Eadan and go.

I push through the side door into a small foyer and listen for Laoise’s voice, but hear Declan’s instead.

“There’s a reason you’ve been brought here.” I hear Declan say as I rush toward the open door to my right, entering a parlour with scattered velvet chairs of emerald green around golden tables. It’s a tearoom with large windows overlooking the garden, framed with wallpaper in a decorative golden swirl.

Only the two of them are inside. They turn to the door as if caught in a secret. “Brynney!” Laoise calls out, rushing toward me. Her arms wrap around my neck, holding me close. It’s so good to hold her, to know she’s safe. Her hair is pinned up as always, and she wears an exquisite gown of gold.

Declan smiles at me, and I smile back over Laoise’s shoulder. I want to thank him for looking after her, for keeping her safe.

“Oh, Brynney, I’m so glad you made it! Finally! Don’t worry, you’re safe here.” She pulls back, holding me at arm’s length, beaming at me. “Look what they made you wear! The disrespect!” My happiness fades into something different. My stomach sinks, and my smile wavers.

“I happen to…”

“I will see that our room is ready.” She claps her hands, exiting the room through a secret door in the wall. Our room? Where is her bag? Our provisions? All the things Declan promised to have ready? There was no talk of a room!

“Here, you can take my coat.” Declan shrugs out of his dark green jacket.

“No, I don’t need…” He hands it to me before I finish my sentence. Frustration burns through my veins as I hang it over the backrest of a chair. It’s as though they don’t hear me speaking, as though my opinion doesn’t matter. “I don’t need it.”

“Your compulsion will end soon.” In the silence after his statement, my heart climbs to a crescendo.

“This wasn’t the plan, Declan!”

THIRTY-EIGHT

PRINCE ODHRAN

Faeries, being creatures formed of magic, are able to tesser if they are disciplined in their skill development. This does not mean humans are unable. Those of witchly descent can acquire the gift through the use of a rune painted on their skin and with enough dedication to harness the magic of Nature.

The Legends of The Forgotten, by Tibor Harper

My raven lets out a grating croak, fading into tendrils of darkness when I recall it, feeling its wings return under my skin, settling upon my shoulder.

“Tell me everything,” I say to Sloan. Leather and armour replace my three-piece suit, making me feel more like myself than the pretentious peacocking of grandeur at the coronation.

“Sheridan is surveying the valley ahead. Our scout never returned as he should. It’s too quiet. It shouldn’t be this quiet.” Sloan’s hand closes into a fist. The sound of strained leather echoes through the quiet woods. We have three hundred men, all crouched and hiding behind the thick stumps surrounding us.

Lightning flashes in the clouds. Hooves drum against the ground, echoing through the valley. A lone horse gallops toward us as its rider sways from side to side. My jaw clenches, and my eyes narrow as I behold the rider. Headless. His blood glistens in the moonlight. Our scout.

“Grab his horse!” someone calls out to the front. Three of my men rush forward, snatching the bewildered beast’s reins. Its neck is drenched in a thick layer of white sweat. Its nostrils are enlarged, and its eyes reveal their whites. My muscles tighten, but I refuse to let my men perceive any hint of concern.

“Untie him.” My words are a grating command. The raven’s wings stir beneath my skin before being set free once more. Its task is simple. Find whoever did this.

“Yes, Prince Odhran.” An eager soldier nods, immediately attacking the bindings around the scout’s thighs. I don’t miss the wooden spear piercing his palms, securing his head between them or the smile carved into his face.

Blood splatters as the headless rider topples from the horse. Fury spreads through our ranks like wildfire. Swords are unsheathed, arrows notched, and shields raised. We stand united, ready to face whatever horror approaches.

Raising my palms to the sky, I send hundreds of ravens flapping beyond the treetops. “Bring Sheridan back and find who did this.”

Silence stretches into unease as the men stare into the night, none making a sound. Raindrops begin to fall as thunder rolls against the mountain tops. Severe weather almost always brings severe consequences, and the tension amongst those in my command is palpable. Their eyes dart in my direction, searching for instruction, but I have only one. Wait.