Page 81 of Why Broken Wings Fray

“Olivia?”

“Sorry, what?”

Raegan’s smile was small and adorable as he shook his head at me. “I said you should get some rest. The Imbolc Ball starts early and stretches long. You will need your energy. And your strength.”

“Right… Right, sure. I am sorry, by the way.”

One of his brows curved upwards, his smile still overly humoured.

“For breaking into your chambers. It was not right of me—”

He cut me off quickly with both his words and his body as he took one significant step towards me and crowded my space. “You are always welcome in my chambers.”

Whatever I had prepared to say in response grew thick and indigestible in my throat. Instead of trying, likely having nothing to offer but something stupid as a retort, I nodded with a new shyness and ducked away from him, striding towards his door.

“And Olivia?” he called, causing me to pause right as I planned to open the door. “I would like at least one dance with you, tomorrow.”

Another statement that I had no response to, resorting to making a strangled noise and slipping out of his door. I flinched as I slammed it behind me.

37

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Beltane in Choilltean had been magnificent. Before it had been completely derailed by the attack on the dragon’s den, it had been a night of good food, excellent drink, phenomenal company, and enough memories to last me a lifetime. It was grand and impressive, overwhelming and beautiful, and I could still feel the subtle cramps from the way I had laughed, or the ache of my legs from how I had danced.

Imbolc should have been the same way. I was prepared for it to be the same way.

~

Three gentle knocks against my door snapped me out of my state of delusion, causing me to drop the kohl powder on the floor alongside the blush powder that was definitely not my shade.

“Come in,” I called, definitely distracted, as I awkwardly leant off of my chair and desperately clawed for the two tubs that had collided with the floor.

“Are you decent?” my intruder shouted directly into the door, revealing himself to be Liam long before he even stepped into my space.

I grimaced as I looked back at the odd shard-shaped reflective pane in front of me. Decent might have been a stretch.

“I’m clothed,” I settled on, considering anything further than that seemed like a lie.

A moment was allocated to Liam scuffling on his side of the door, the large stone-like object groaning as it opened, then his boots echoing as he stepped in and shut it behind him.

“Olivia!” he gasped, his voice overly shrill from where he was standing over my shoulder. “You look–”

“Dreadful,” I cried out, spinning to face him. Once he got a look at my face, his previous comment disappeared on his tongue and he made no attempt to stop the shock from appearing across his features.

“What have you done to your face?”

I pouted, trying my best not to smudge the already smudged look I had going on. “I don’t know. I had help before. Niamh–” Stopping myself, I slammed my eyes shut and groaned as I realized I was complaining to her cousin. “I just don’t know what I’m doing.”

Liam, like Niamh in so many ways, shook his head and laughed. “Tell any of the others that I helped you with this, and I will paint you a liar, Olivia Loughty.”

Becoming my conspirator, Liam crept across the room, snatched the tools out of my hand, and left me jaw-dropped as he made quick work of fixing the horrendous atrocity that I had painted across my face.

Only five minutes after he had entered my chambers, I looked somewhat presentable, and I had thanked him only about a hundred times.

“Now rise – let’s see what we can do about your hair.”

Why were there so many things I had to get ready? Though, I would be lying if I claimed I didn’t love the feeling of dressing up for the events of Saoghal, feeling the shimmer of a gown as the fireflies raced past, drenching myself in that magical glow of the pixies if only for one night. So I nodded and rose, pinching gently at the gown that Aisling had set outside of my room the night prior.