Page 34 of A Beautifully Crafted Lie

My heart aches. “I’m leaving.” Because I’m a witch. Because I’m being reaped just like the rest of the lords and ladies in the ballroom. Just like my sister.

“What?” He tenses. Hurt tightens the lines around his eyes, reflecting nothing but my betrayal. “You won’t wait for me?” He snatches his hand from mine, turning his back on me as he aims to return to the paddocks. “I can’t believe it! I can’t believe you!”

“Declan?”

He stops.

“If you didn’t want me, you could’ve just said so. I had a sense you didn’t truly want a life with me, not the way I want one with you. Now I know.” He turns, emotion glistening in his eyes. It’s enough to cause my chest to close in on itself. “I told myself that you were just shy about your feelings.”

I lunge at him, rising onto my toes, attempting to ease a fraction of this excruciating pain. My arms fling around his neck, and I press my lips against his. For a moment, he doesn’t respond, but then Declan’s hands run along the curve of my back. It hurts, but not as much as saying goodbye. He kisses me with his whole heart, pulling me into him when his tongue breaches my lips. My desperation to stay with him, to turn back time, guides me. We’re both breathless when we break our kiss.

“You’ll always be a part of me.” Tears roll freely down my cheeks as I look up at him.

Odhran clears his throat behind me, and I know he’s been watching this whole time, concealed in his shadows. Declan tenses. His hand goes to the small utility knife once more, but I steady him with a hand on his cheek. Stop.

“Goodbye,” I whisper as my heart breaks. I can’t breathe. Tears stream down my face when I turn my back on Declan. Three steps and I’m at Odhran’s side, too numb to pay attention to his arrogant gloating. To notice the way his vest fits his body when he senselessly tugs it into place. Too broken to care. Linking my arm into his, I feel my soul weigh a thousand pounds, dragging me down into a lake of sorrow and leaving me to drown.

“What’s happening? What are you doing? Let me go!” Declan roars behind me.

“Ready?” Odhran asks, ignoring him. His voice is barely a whisper as he leans in, enjoying the torment all too much.

“Does it matter?” I answer plainly, staring at nothing in particular.

Declan struggles against Odhran’s shadowy constraints tying his feet to the stone floor outside the burned stables. “Get your hands off of her!” His voice is one of desperation and hurt.

I don’t know what to expect, but this isn’t it. I don’t expect the sudden rush of wind whistling in my ears and sweeping recklessly against my skin. I don’t expect shadows as black as the depths of hell to envelop me, robbing me of sight. I certainly don’t expect the sudden rush or the way my stomach flutters in response. It’s like a dream where I’m flying through the sky, only to be dropped into nothingness. Instinctively, my hand tightens on Odhran’s arm, and I hate him even more for it.

PART FOUR

I am the Raven.

I am the night.

I am the haunt

In a wingless flight.

You cannot run.

You cannot hide.

I am their eyes.

They give me sight.

Do what you will.

Do what you might.

I am an enemy

You cannot fight.

-Prince Odhran

THE PAST

It was the week of the annual autumn celebrations that an eighteen-year-old Bryndis found herself sitting alone on the low wall outside the manor. An elegant crown braid held Bryndis’ black curls in place, all but the soft feathering of curls that framed her face. Her thick silk skirt shimmered in the moonlight like a river of pale gold.