Page 11 of A Beautifully Crafted Lie

“Uh-huh.” She swats at me over her shoulder, absentmindedly shooing me away.

“Promise. Me,” I repeat as my eyes narrow at the back of her head. Her strawberry blonde hair glows like a golden halo in the late afternoon sun.

She straightens, swaying ever so slightly from side to side, and lace slips through her fingers to fall back into the basket. “I, Laoise Gwyndolin Ashglo, solemnly shwear not to leave thith courtyard for whatever reason.” She speaks mockingly, annoyance clear as crystal in her tone. It almost makes me smile. Almost, if not for her dilated pupils and impaired balance.

“Good.” My feet are already moving as I voice my approval. Anxiously, I search the crowd for a tall figure with soft copper hair. He should be here. His family never misses a day at the market. But Declan is nowhere in sight. My stomach flutters. Climbing the four steps leading to the seamstress’ shop entrance, I make use of the extra height to search the sea of men and women before me. I can’t believe I’m leaving Laoise alone right now, but I don’t know if I’ll have another opportunity to find Declan.

“What of Lord Ashglo?” The words, spoken by a woman, filter from around the corner. From the dark and narrow passage between the buildings—where passersby wouldn’t notice them; where I hadn’t taken note of them until I heard them speak of my father—a man faces a woman dressed as a soldier. The woman’s voice is alarmed and infuriated in equal measure.

“I’m merely stating the facts, Eadan.” My heart beats wildly in my chest. His voice. The voice that drew me from my room last night.

“What of your brother? Does he not desire to choose? Or do you wish to damn us all?”

“Only a fool would throw jewels amongst the swine.”

“Fine,” she says with a huff. “It’s your funeral.”

“We’ll discuss our next steps as soon as we’ve concluded our visit.” His words are as cold as winter’s chill.

“And when do you plan on doing that?”

“When I am ready.” Danger lurks in his tone, so raw and primal my eyes squeeze shut upon hearing it.

“What about the girl?”

“When. I. Am. Ready.” He practically growls the words. I shiver, knowing deep down I am that girl. The one who was caught committing a crime. I knew he wouldn’t let me go, even though he walked away. Criminals must be punished, and by law, I’m a criminal.

“Now stop pestering me and resume your post,” he says with an exaggerated sigh.

Heavy boots stomp toward me, and I flatten myself against the wall. My hands ball into fists, digging my nails into my palms. I expect her to round the corner and find me standing here, eavesdropping, again.

She’s tall with beautifully braided hair as white as fresh snow. She doesn’t wear a dress or anything else to give away her femininity. Nothing indicates that she is an eligible lady. Instead, she wears a dark leather corset moulded perfectly to her curves and a matching pair of leather boots over tight black pants with blades sheathed at her hips. I watch her retreat into the crowd in utter awe.

“You know, it’s rude to listen in on private conversations. Some would say that it’s even criminal.”

I swallow, not daring to so much as blink.

“And then to ignore someone when spoken to.” He clucks his tongue. “I wonder, what mannerisms do they teach the young ladies of Bouldermore?”

“Fine,” I blurt a little louder than I intend to and step out from around the corner in mock confidence. There isn’t time to warn Declan. No time to ensure that he doesn’t sacrifice his future to save mine. I know he loves me; I’ve known ever since my sixteenth year. There’s no telling what he’ll do to protect me, so if there’s no time to stop him from defending me, then I’ll speed up the process. “Are you going to punish me? Slice off my ear right here at the market?”

“How dramatic you are.” His laughter is low and hushed as he leans back against the wall. Removing a double-edged dagger from his pocket, he twirls it between his fingers, letting it roll from knuckle to knuckle. There’s no question that he’s skilled in its use, whatever purpose or method he chooses. Without concentration. Without effort. As if the act is second nature. The blade is as dark as a moonless night, not the steel grey I’m used to seeing, but something else completely. “I wonder… would you have me feed it to you too?”

“I’m not dramatic! You’re the one creating this insufferable suspense. Not me. This is the perfect opportunity for you to enforce your punishment. So do it. Get it over with.” A push, that’s what he needs. Take the bait, asshole.

“Careful, young one, don’t let your temper get the better of you. You do not know this man or what he is capable of. You cannot see the blood that stains his hands. Not the way I do.” I want to shout at the creature occupying my mind, to tell it to go to hell where it belongs, but I focus on the prince instead. I watch as one side of his mouth quirks into a sly smirk that I don’t trust, exposing a dimple I don’t care to see. He’s the kind of handsome mothers warn their daughters against. A handsomeness that’s hard to ignore and even harder to trust. One can’t be blessed with both inner and outer beauty in such extraordinary measure. There has to be a balance, and I instantly hate him for it.

“Careful. I might add another transgression to that fast-growing list of yours. As for the collection of ears…” He pushes off the wall, casually strolling toward me as he sheathes his blade at his side. “It’s such a dull practice, don’t you think?”

“Are you letting me go then?” Annoyance pitches in my voice.

“Is that what you want, Slìbhìn?” He huffs an unamused laugh, looking utterly bored with my company.

“All I desire,” I answer with a generous dose of sarcasm. Pompous prick. I turn, staring at his back as he passes me, but he doesn’t stop. “So, will you?” I ask again, but he doesn’t answer as he disappears into the crowd, leaving me alone in the passageway.

“Control your temper. Tempers are only good for starting wars when there’s no need for one.”

SEVEN