Chapter 31
Chapter thirty-one
“Mother says I must remain silent at Mrs. Ryan’s funeral. She says even if Aidan is crying, I can’t talk or sit beside him. It seems horribly mean to make Aidan sit by himself at his mother’s funeral.” – from the diary of Oren Byrne, age eight.
I, like everyone else I’d ever had the pleasure of being acquainted with, despised funerals.
The reverent silence, the stained glass windows letting in the feeble light, the creak of the wood pews as people tried not to shift while the vicar droned on and on, the stagnant air filled with too many ladies’ perfumes and scent of too many bodies pressed together, and the near silent sobs from the family in the front row.
All of it was torture.
But what was worse was the guilt gnawing on me that somehow I could’ve prevented Mrs. Kelly from being killed, which was utter balderdash, but the notion persisted like a fly hovering around the food at a picnic.
I was seated between Sevrin and Phineas, their combined bulk nearly suffocating me—though, at the same time, it lent a bit of safety from the eyes I felt around the church.
Most likely I wasn’t the focus of people’s glares or questioning glances, as I was now no one in my prestigious family.
Father bore the brunt of people’s looks since Aidan wasn’t here to disparage.
Never had such a murder occurred on Byrne Manor grounds, and now one had, only months after Aidan had taken his place as Lord of Sídhetír.
Such actions didn’t spell well for his tenure as lord.
Not that this was Aidan’s fault—none of it was—but people sought to blame someone, anyone in a tragedy.
And there was some truth—the Byrne family was somewhat responsible for Mrs. Kelly’s demise.
We were charged to care for the people in this county, and we’d failed.
Though, while neither the queen or prince regent could strip Aidan of his title, shame and mutters would follow him—if they already did not.
I almost smiled at the thought. Aidan wasn't concerned with his reputation from what I’d gleaned, and he probably had no reason to be, as a bastard child and half-fae lord.
The lingering darkness in my gut returned with a vengeance. I was trying so hard not to care what people thought, but I did. How easily Aidan shed expectations, and I stumbled under their invisible weight.
The vicar closed his bible with a dull thud, staring at his flock.
Silence reigned.
There was nothing more to say. After a bit, people began to drift away, and I followed the crowd out, stepping aside to allow a crying Mrs. Maher outside, then gave my condolences to Mr. Kelly and his family.
They barely acknowledged me, and I didn’t blame them.
I popped my hat onto my head and strode out of the isolated church.
My eyes drifted to the graveyard, running over the crumbling wall that was covered in bright green moss, the creaking elm, and the disturbed earth.
The wind rustled over the barren ground and I swore I caught a whiff of decay and a low whispering of my name on its tendrils.
Something pulled at my gut to follow the sounds, to wander away in the trees and follow the trail of death.
“What are you doing?” Neil asked, clapping my shoulder and making me start.
“Missing Lord Abnus?” Nevan teased at the exact moment.
I didn’t rise to the obvious bait, nor did I give an answer to Neil’s question, for I didn’t have one. My eyes were inextricably pulled to the graveyard once more.
A gentle tug in my gut led to the treeline. I looked at the naked, shadowed trees for something to explain this draw, and I saw nothing but the ordinary. Still the moldering scent of death remained, as did the occasional whispers of my name.
“Sevrin and I are returning with Mother and Father in the carriage,” Phineas said, and it pulled me out of my thoughts.
Georgie was already on their horse, ready to go.
Frances had decided to stay behind with the children, which was probably for the best. The recent days had been hard on my nieces, even if we’d sheltered them from the worst of it.
Nevan nodded and tossed an arm over mine and Neil’s shoulders. “We’ll be right behind you.”
Father cast a glance our way, a warning not to dawdle, before handing Mother into the carriage. Sevrin and Phineas were right behind them.
When the carriage clattered up the road, disappearing behind a snowy hill, Nevan grinned. “I say we go have some fun.”
Neil smirked. “I am in accord.”
I slipped out of Nevan’s hold as the twins debated what kind of fun they wanted to have, and I was pulled toward the graveyard yet again.
The trees abutting the churchyard creaked as they always did. It didn’t matter if there was wind or not; they would sway like they were alive. Just days ago, I’d thought I saw something beneath the boughs—a skeleton beckoning me—but I had to be mistaken.
Still, I searched for some unknown reason. I couldn’t help myself. The trees were empty of people, but the disturbed graveyard wasn’t anymore.
Eilis Duffy headed in my direction, his heavy steps squelching while his staff made divots in the muddy upturned earth. His skeletal hands gripped the gnarled wood as his sunken eyes never looked away from me.
A sigh bubbled in my throat, but I swallowed it. The caretaker hated me, and I doubted that would ever change.
“You brought this about,” he said, jabbing his finger in my direction.
“How?” I asked, eyes wide. While I did feel guilty, it wasn’t actually my fault. I hadn’t killed Mrs. Kelly.
“You failed.”
“What?”
“If you had become lord, all of these fae wouldn’t be here and she would be alive,” he spat.
A shattering rang in my ears like the breaking of delicate glass. A whooshing went through me as my vision wobbled. I shook my head, unable to respond to the accusation laid at my feet.
“How is that Oren’s fault, Mr. Duffy?” Nevan asked, moving to my side. “He had no choice about his birth order. And we have no evidence that what happened to Mrs. Kelly was the work of a fae culprit.”
Eilis Duffy spat on the ground, the spittle landing on my shiny boot. “It’s the fae. It’s always the fae. First that Blodwen killed people at the manor, and now this.” He shook his head. “Sídhetír was safe until you failed to take your place. You must be responsible.”
“None of that is Oren’s fault,” Neil said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Aidan, not Oren, was the heir. And the blood Blodwen shed is on her hands alone. He bears no blame in Mrs. Kelly’s death.”
He ignored my brother, completely focused on me. “Don’t think people don’t know what you and that dark fae are doing.”
“Excuse me?” I asked, trembling.
“You’re fucking him.” He shook his head. “You’re disgusting.”
My breath turned harsh. What was happening? I didn’t understand. I truly did not. Mr. Duffy had never cared for me previously, but he wasn’t usually aggressive toward me, at least not vocally in my presence.
“You’re the problem. Once you are eliminated, so will any trouble be,” he said.
“I beg your pardon?”
Nevan and Neil moved quicker than I, shoving me behind them. Both pulled out their pistols. I shook off my shock and slipped out the thin iron dagger I had under my sleeve. I was as trained as all of my brothers, though I didn’t often carry a pistol.
He banged his staff on the leaf-covered ground, and a melodious voice I never thought I would hear again said, “Why, Mr. Byrne, how lovely it is to see you.”
Out of the shadowed trees stepped a light fae with broad shoulders, rich brown hair, and golden skin that had gone ashen with death.
My heart froze.
“Lady Blodwen,” I whispered.
“How polite. I don’t believe I can be called a lady now that I am no longer among the living.” She gave me a feral smile. “You are not Aidan, but I shall have to take my revenge where I can.”
“As will I,” a different voice said. Another fae stepped out of the shadows. His neck was a mess of rough tissue that had been neatly stitched together. His brown hair was shoved under his cap while his clothes were covered in small rips and tears.
I didn’t recognize him, but I knew who he was, though his name was a mystery.
He’d attacked Sevrin and Aidan in Elmbury three months ago.
This necromancy issue had been happening since before Aidan had even become lord.
Why had Duffy even wanted to do this and how?
Necromancy was a rarity. Where had he learned?
“I thought you both had been burned to ash,” I commented, hand tight on the dagger.
“Obviously not, laddy,” the light fae said.
Blodwen grinned at us, showing off her sharp canines.
“Why didn’t you take Mrs. Kelly’s body as well?” I asked from behind my brothers.
Duffy floundered. His mouth opened and his brow furrowed while his eyes slipped to the side. “It hardly matters.”
“It does,” I said, stepping around my brothers. “Why? Why are you doing this?” I took in his thin, skeletal body. “And for how long?”
“Pointless questions.” Duffy slammed the butt of his staff into the ground; Blodwen and the nameless fae lurched in our direction.
Neither used their magic; maybe they could not. Nevan shot the male fae in the head, and while he stumbled back, he kept coming. Neil shot Blodwen and the same thing happened to her.
They were dead. They couldn’t be killed again, nor did iron rounds harm them.
I ducked beneath the light fae who swung at me.
He wobbled, the stitching on his neck making it flop to the side.
He was unbalanced. I swiped at his legs, and he went down.
I stabbed him, but the fae didn’t even grunt.
He punched me in the sternum. I went flying and crashed into the ground with a groan.
The fae might not have their magic, but they certainly had their strength.
My brothers worked in tandem, looking like the same person, to fight off Blodwen. She was a skilled warrior and didn’t have a floppy head to knock off her rhythm. It was only a matter of time before she hurt or killed one of them.
The other fae scrambled to his feet and dashed in my direction, his head practically on his shoulder as the stitches popped one by one.
Ribs aching, I leaped up. I swung toward him, aiming for his neck. If I could cut off his head again, then perhaps he wouldn’t be as effective.
He caught my arm and snapped it behind my back. My shoulder popped sickeningly as fire ripped through me.
I shrieked.
The fae shoved my arm up behind me. I grimaced. He leaned closer. “Do you really think you can win, boy? You are not the heir. You are nothing.”
“Oren,” Nevan yelled, but Blodwen kept attacking them.
My eyes went to Duffy who stood behind them, hand on his staff. If he was killed would this end? I didn’t know enough to be certain. But we wouldn’t survive this encounter long. And where were the other skeletons he’d stolen? More shades attacking us would spell the end quicker than I could blink.
“You’re right,” I confessed, the words coming out like glass shredding my throat, “but I don’t need to be.” I shoved myself in the other direction, ignoring the pain lancing in my abused joint, and sliced his neck. His head flopped to the ground with a thud.
The fae let go of me, and I rushed toward Duffy. I likely only had seconds before the male fae and Blodwen came after me.
I tackled him to the ground, and he grunted, crumbling to the ground beneath me. He whacked me on the side of my head, and I swore as light flashed behind my eyelids. Blood welled, dripping down my cheek, but I ignored it and the ringing in my ears as well as the nausea burning my throat.
He tried to get to his feet, spry for a man his age and for the fact I’d knocked him to the ground moments ago. I grabbed his legs, gripping his trousers. Duffy swore and fell to the ground.
“You little shit,” he snarled, jabbing at me with his walking stick. He caught me in the nose, and I grunted, my eyes watering as blood covered my mouth.
I could barely see, but I could hear Nevan and Neil yelling at Blodwen and calling my name. The unnamed light fae’s body was shuffling around as he screamed obscenities.
Duffy hovered over me with his walking stick raised, and I swore there was a flash of fear in his gaze as he hesitated.
Without thinking, I kicked him in the knee. He went down again. I didn’t waste any time, my hand poised to stab him as I rolled toward him, but his eyes were open and unseeing.
Blurrily, I peered around. Blodwen was on the ground in a heap; so was the other fae. Was that it? Duffy was dead. How? I’d merely knocked him over. His head rested against the crumbling wall, blood pooling around him and dripping off the moss.
“Oren?” Nevan asked, panting.
I shook my head, then stopped as my gorge rose. The world spun, and I fell backward.