Page 57 of A Beautifully Crafted Lie

“You know it is not entirely impossible,” Aed adds, his voice barely audible amidst the whistling of wind in my ears. Odhran stares into my eyes. For a fleeting moment, I wonder… can he sense Aed’s presence? Does he know about the conversations unfolding in my mind? My heart races, my palms slightly damp with anticipation as I await Odhran’s response.

“I have something to show you,” Odhran whispers, leaning closer. “Do you trust me?”

For a long moment, I only stare back at him, my heart racing in my chest.

Logic and reason scream for me to resist. He’s a monster. He reaped my sister. He’s keeping me as a forced guest in his home. He’s everything I should hate. I know I should assert myself, demand respect, and voice my doubts about placing my trust in him, but I know he has no intention of hurting me.

“Yes,” I finally breathe, not fully trusting my answer as truth, but wishing for it to be. He smiles, and the whistling of wings and wind slice through the night as we leave the mountain behind us.

TWENTY-EIGHT

BRYNDIS ASHGLO

It is improbable for faeries and humans to be mates. The two species were set up against each other by Nature, doomed to be enemies for eternity.

The Legends of The Forgotten, by Tibor Harper

The sight of tall trees fills the darkness, the rustling of leaves replacing the sound of whistling wind. I find myself gripping Odhran’s arm as he ushers us into the new scenery. As the tornado of darkness and beating wings dies, the exhilarating sensation of falling still lingers, tingling across my skin like static. I feel alive, more so than I ever have before. More than sneaking out of the manor back home. The realisation turns sideways in my throat.

“Is it like this for everyone when they tesser?” I ask, clearing my throat.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m talking about the wind and the feathers and shadows.” I feel more and more like an idiot. I don’t like asking personal questions, perhaps because no one ever asks them to me aside from Laoise’s prying.

“No.” His answer is plain and simple. He pauses so long I don’t think he’ll say anything further. After a heavy exhale, he continues, “Magic is unpredictable. It doesn’t favor us all. Some have giftings while others don’t. The faerie you encountered in the woods did not. Those like him are first to deteriorate; they’re less likely to feed and retain strength. Among those with the gift of magic, its strength and manifestation varies between individuals. My fingerprint, as you may call it, is that of ravens and shadows. It’s an identity shaped by my formative years. They’re my eyes when I’m not present. My weapons when I have none.” His words quiet. “My hands when I can’t touch.”

A cool breeze brushes my cheek, and my breath catches.

I gaze up at Odhran, our eyes locking for a stretched-out moment. “Your heart is racing,” he says, a faint frown tugging at his brows. “Are you afraid since anger no longer burns through you?” Somehow, I sense he’s asking if I’m afraid of him.

I swallow, answering both questions with a clear, “No.” The truth.

“That is most unwise.” A smile slowly spreads across Odhran’s lips, and I can’t help but be captivated by its warmth. My eyes linger on his lips for a moment longer than intended, bringing a gentle blush rising to my cheeks.

“Where are we?” I turn to look around me, changing the subject to something other than him. One safer to look at and appreciate. The tall, dark trees tower above us, their branches creating a canopy that partially obscures the glinting stars. The air is cold enough to see my breath plume with every exhale, chilling my skin. These trees aren’t smooth and silvery. Their bark doesn’t peel off in slithers like a moulting snake. They’re different from the ones surrounding Odhran’s home.

“You’ll see,” he says, motioning for me to lead the way with his outstretched hand. The path is slippery and steep, forcing me to rely on the trees for support. My fingertips clutch their rough bark in an attempt to maintain my balance.

“Can you give me one truth?” he asks. I’m tempted to turn and face him, but I resist, fearing that my expression will reveal more than I intend. I don’t want him to see my uncertainty.

“Alright…” I hesitate, my heart pounding. “But then I expect the same in return.”

“Fae can’t lie.” His amusement is a lull in his tone. I want to slap him for it. I know they can’t lie, and he knows it.

“So I hear.” Sarcasm is clear in my voice, clipped and flat. I aim it at him like a blade. “Though you are rather creative in sidestepping answers. Isn’t that the same as lying?” I have countless questions, making it difficult to determine which I need answered the most. One truth isn’t enough. I’m willing to offer him multiple truths in exchange for more of his. After all, what’s the worst he can ask?

“Touché.” His answer comes with a deep, rolling chuckle.

There’s a heavy pause of silence as we weave down the mountain between the trees. Finally, he speaks in a cautious tone. “Why doesn’t the red-headed boy know about the scars on your back?”

My heart races, climbing up my throat as I struggle to find an answer. Out of all the possible questions, this is the one that gnaws at him? “I don’t know,” I utter, the words catching in my throat, my apprehension bubbling beneath the surface.

“You know the rules, Bryn. Something true,” he insists, his voice gentle but firm.

I spot a fallen tree off the narrow path and make my way toward it. My feet slide under me as though I’m walking on ice. If I’m going to give him a serious answer, I’ll need to sit down. The crunch of pine needles and the ripping of roots under my boots fills the air as I duck under a snapped branch and step onto the thick trunk. I climb up, realising it’s higher than I’d expected, and peer down at the steep decline before me, making my stomach flutter.

“I don’t want his pity,” I spit out my response. He waits, expecting me to continue, so I do. “If he knows, if he pities me, I’ll become what he thinks me to be.” I speak as though scolding him, and perhaps I am. How dare he ask! How dare he insinuate that he knows me? That he knows Declan! That he knows anything about my life!