Page 48 of A Beautifully Crafted Lie

“Fine!” I scowl at him, but the heaviness in me remains. I killed someone. I did. No one else. Me. And I don’t regret it. My mind struggles to grasp reality. I replay the scene over in my mind, as if I were someone else, hovering in the sky above, watching an unfamiliar girl murder an unfamiliar beast.

“Now listen to what I’m about to say.” He raises a single black brow. “It’s normal to feel the way you do. It’s normal to be in shock. But you need to remember, it was you or him. He wouldn’t have ceased until he tore you apart. Till it was your blood soaking the dirt. You did what you had to.”

I did what I wanted to. Odhran tied him to the ground. He was defenceless. I… I…

He takes a step toward me, and I’m acutely aware of his advance. His fingers twitch at his sides, as do the muscles in my legs. It’s fight or flight, and I’m done running. He stops, then releases a tortured breath, pushing his hands through his hair.

“Then why…” I flinch, but hide it as I clear my throat.

“Why what?” Every word comes out clipped. Patience isn’t one of his virtues, whatever they may be. It takes great effort for him to tame his reaction. His lips thin, and the steely look of annoyance takes residence in his eyes.

“It’s nothing.” I shiver, so very cold. So very cold.

All signs of annoyance vanish as he frowns at me, his puzzle with no solution. A riddle with no answer. To him, I’m a Slìbhìn. A sly and smooth-tongued person, Aed had clarified. Odhran’s gaze follows my hands as they fiercely rub my arms, a poor attempt to warm myself. I sway on my feet as the forest spins around me. Two hands, firm and warm, grip my shoulders, and a jolt of anger brings me to my senses.

“Honey-tongued. Untrustworthy!”

“Get your hands off of me,” I say, sounding more like Aed than myself. His frown deepens with apparent concern.

“You’re in shock.” It’s as if he’s talking to himself instead, and I’m listening to him with my head under water. Time seems to slow before speeding up once more.

“I said, get your hands off of me!” My command sounds weak. “I can stand on my own. I don’t need your help.” He doesn’t quite believe my statement, the concern etched on his brow confirming as much. He doesn’t believe that this life-altering experience left me unchanged. Good, I’m not sure I believe myself either, but being constrained isn’t helping my ever-growing anxiety.

Odhran releases me without warning, muttering something that sounds like a series of curses. “You want to go back? I’m taking you back. But not to that dreadful cesspit you call home.” He grips my arm, pulls me to his chest, wrapping his arms around me as invisible wings beat, and air whistles around us. Wind dances through my hair. A buzzing courses through me, along with the sensation of falling. It’s warm, comfortable, and it all smells like him as I fall and fall and fall.

Not long ago, I thought myself to be a powerless witch on the verge of going mad. Suppose I’m something even worse. Suppose I’m a monster like the man beside me. Suppose I’m not completely repulsed by the idea. What form of abomination would that make me?

When I open my eyes, I’m back in the room I’d slept in the night before. It’s completely dark save for the light from the bathroom and that which escapes the sliver left open between the heavy drapes. It spears across my face in an attack of warmth and sunlight. I squint, groaning. Something soft sweeps over my skin when I move. A blanket covers me from shoulder to toe as I curl up on the bed, feet bare. My fingers dig into the fabric, and immediately, I pull it toward myself. So many feelings rush through me all at once that I don’t know what to feel. What to think. It’s all too much.

Running water sounds from the adjoining bathroom. I stand, walking over to where I’m fairly certain I’ll find a man with a permanent scowl etched on his face. My head pounds, and I press my fingers to my temples to try and dull the ache. I’m fine.

Leaning over the bath, Odhran becomes a canvas for the mesmerising display of colours cast by the stained-glass window. The rising sun illuminates the bathroom, bringing it to life. Odhran, dressed in his usual choice of a black shirt rolled up to his elbows and matching black pants tailored to show the curve of muscles in his legs, is an absurd contrast to his surroundings. His home is airy and whimsical. None of those things come to mind when I look at him. It doesn’t feel like Odhran. It doesn’t feel like me. I stare at his hand gliding beneath the water, stirring as it fills. The action is so human. So normal. As though I didn’t just witness him wield his shadows like a blade.

“Good, you’re up,” he says casually, not breaking his rhythm or looking at me. The water smells of lavender and honey, warm and inviting. I take a deep breath, trying to ignore the ache slowly spreading at the back of my throat. He saved my life. This… this… man, as brutal and terrifying as he is, saved me. Why?

“I don’t even remember falling asleep.” My fingers stroke my neck, covering my throat.

“You passed out before we made it back. Thought I’d let you rest.” His voice lacks emotion, as does his expression. He closes the tap, shaking the water from his hand as he stands, towering above me. Those eyes, lined with black, see more than I want him to, like he’s seeing right through me.

It’s a strange feeling being indebted to a man I loathe. I don’t know what to say, or even where to start, so I remain silent.

“Clean yourself up. Get some rest. Have something to eat. We’re leaving as soon as the sun sets.” He stops a hand’s breadth from me, and the smell of strong liquor overwhelms my senses. Liquor, cinnamon, and peppermint. Odhran. The room is too small for both of us.

“Don’t I have a say in the matter?” My lip curls, destroying the most casual conversation we’ve ever had. No, scratch that, he destroyed it by telling me what to do. Another order given to his little pet. My whole life I’ve been told what to do, where to go, and how to speak. I’m sick of it.

“You can choose whether it will be a pleasant departure, or one… somewhat less pleasant. Either way, you’re tagging along for now.” He pauses long enough to measure my response. “I need to know that you’re…” His hand flexes at his side, and for a moment, it looks as though he wants to reach for mine, but then the moment is gone. “Be on time for a change, will you?” he says bluntly. Without uttering another word, he turns to the door.

“And if I say no?” My eyes narrow at the back of his head. His hair is a dishevelled mess, as if he’s been pulling at the roots or standing at the centre of a blizzard.

“Bryn. Sweetheart. Oh, bane of my blight. Get in the fucking bath. It’s been a long day, and I’m not in the mood to fight with you.” He leaves without saying another word, closing the door behind him with a soft click. Honey-tongued, my ass.

The silence surrounding me is overwhelming. My chest hitches. My hands aren’t shaking. Nausea doesn’t make my stomach turn. I’m fine, more than I ought to be, and I hate it.

Tucking the loose strands of my tangled black hair behind my ears, I pick out a twig. When I look at it, I finally notice my stained fingers, and… I’m fine.

“Did you know?” I ask wordlessly.

“That you are special? Yes,” Aed answers, stretching as though I’d woken him from his sleep.