SIX
brYNDIS ASHGLO
The Others are known to roam the night on the eve of Samhain. Leaving offerings on your doorstep will prevent them from coming inside and claiming an offering of their own liking.
The Legends Of The Forgotten, by Tibor Harper
It’s long past lunch when we finally venture into town. Shadows stretch out across the cobbled paving, lazily coming to rest at our feet.
“You know you’d look sho mush prettier if you jusht…
” Laoise says, slurring her words. An action caused by me overestimating the dosage of poppy tea she’d willingly consume.
She never even tasted it in her tea and drank every drop without complaint.
Before I can stop her, Laoise reaches for my hair, twisting my long black curls into an intricate updo.
Even with her one hand tightly wrapped in a bandage and her being practically drugged into a stupor, she has more skill than I do, having all the mannerisms of a lady.
With unparalleled grace and training, she’ll be an asset to any home she runs, to any man who makes her his wife.
I’m different, though. My black hair and mismatched eyes are but another of many elements setting me apart from those close to me.
I grab her wrist and remove her hand from touching me.
She laughs, but my grip is too tight. Annoyance and anger affect my judgement, letting my mask slip a little too far.
I hate that I hurt her and am livid with myself for getting her dosage wrong.
I’m disappointed in myself, irritated at my incompetence, but mostly…
mostly… guilt gnaws at me, fraying my nerves.
I may have ruined my life, fine, but now Declan’s future may be affected.
And Laoise, my sweet and innocent little sister, is hurt, because of me!
Her relaxed posture turns rigid as her eyes widen, her smile from a moment ago gone in the blink of an eye.
Pity glistens brightly in her eyes, and I look away, unable to stand the sight.
“Stop that!” a familiar voice growls, but I’m the only one who hears it.
The creature stirs, casting its imaginary shadows between the buildings, following me. His movement is slow and cunning, slithering beneath my skin. “Tell me, young one, what is so attractive about being like the smiling girl?”
“Leave me alone!” I squeeze my eyes shut, cursing myself for not indulging in a second drop of nightshade. But as much as I hate its voice in my head not being fully suppressed, I dread the day my supply runs out even more.
“Such harsh words for a lady… although, I have heard you utter words even less ladylike than that.” Like wind blowing through tall trees, its voice stirs within me, steady and distant, yet powerful beyond my comprehension.
The shadows across the road twitch, and I flinch.
If Laoise wasn’t drugged, she wouldn’t have overlooked my misstep.
The big willow’s branches at the centre of the village square seem to curl down towards me like a beast’s claws seeking to draw blood, but only I can see it, my sanity failing me.
“Why do you always do that?” Laoise asks, catching me off guard. A small crease is etched between her brows as she studies me.
“What?” I pull back my shoulders, fixing my eyes on the path ahead, feeling the disapproval of the creature beneath my skin.
“Why do you always shut me out?” Her voice is barely a whisper as she speaks.
We walk past the first line of vendors at the market to see the square decorated with bright linen flags, ribbons, and flowers.
It’s prettier than I’d ever seen before.
Probably thanks to our royal visitor. It’s amazing what people are capable of when they want to impress.
Masks dangle from the willow tree, hanging by their ribbons like heretics.
Food and treats wait in baskets at every door, filling the air with a sweet buttery scent.
“Go.” I force my lips into a half smile, jutting my chin toward the market square and the unfamiliar wagon up ahead.
With its many drawers lining each side, it’s most certainly an interesting attraction.
It’s no surprise that it catches her attention immediately.
Her eyes sparkle with excitement as she looks at it and then back at me.
The knobs on the drawers are a patchwork of mismatched porcelain, painted in the brightest colours.
Colours that decorate her wardrobe and belongings alike.
“Go get yourself something pretty.” I wink, repeating my father’s words to her before we left.
I hold out a piece of silver in the palm of my hand, offering it to her.
If there’s one thing that distracts my sister almost as easily as talk of dowries and marriage, it’s money and all the interesting things it buys.
“Thank you,” she squeaks, rising on her toes with a slight wobble to plant a quick kiss on my cheek. Our conversation, not yet concluded, is completely forgotten, falling short of her priorities. My smile is genuine, as small as it may be. Not only am I free of her questioning, but she’s happy.
I’m not in the market for ribbons or broaches like she is.
I don’t care for trinkets and the like. What’s the point, really?
I’ll never be the lady of a house, not a grand one at least. Perhaps none at all.
My stepmother would never allow me to succeed at anything, especially ahead of her daughter.
Father has never encouraged suitors or engaged in any negotiations on my behalf, probably because he feels the way my stepmother does; I wouldn’t know for certain since he barely glances my way.
I’m the invisible daughter serving no purpose but to chaperone their little diamond.
Luckily, I don’t care for marriage. Being bound to another feels like a new shackle in trade for the one I already have.
I’m content with only my music, books, and small herb garden…
and Declan. My heart constricts as his words from last night flood my memory.
He’s leaving. My hand rests above my heart, instinctively soothing an invisible ache.
I stay close enough to Laoise to hear her laugh politely in awkwardly worded conversation. Her slurred speech is less noticeable than before as she admires the many items on display.
With the preparations for Samhain in full swing, it seems as if the entire town has come to the market.
A sea of vendors stretches across the square, their contents plentiful and vast in variety, from prepared meals to elaborate cakes, loaves of fresh bread and the brightest, most colourful selection of fruit I’ve ever seen.
The smell is so rich and delicious that my mouth waters, and my stomach churns with hunger, reminding me that I haven’t eaten.
Luckily for Laoise, these vendors managed to enter the gates before the prince ordered them shut.
Unluckily for them, they’ll now be housed with welcoming residents or in the town hall until further notice.
Bouldermore, being a place of precaution, has more than enough foodstores safely guarded within these walls.
Fresh water flows freely from the mountain through the furrow we use as an escape.
Livestock are held in liveries, and all residents are safe, but the unharvested crops need to be tended to, and oat hay needs to be cut and baled.
“Lee?” I ask, touching her shoulder. She doesn’t bat an eyelid as she digs through a wicker bin filled with ribbon and lace.
“I’ll be right back. Promise me that you’ll stay right here.
” My eyes land on the guards standing at every exit, ensuring our visitors stay put and don’t create an uproar in their attempts to leave our town in favour of their own.
We’ve never locked our gates during daylight hours, and there’s no telling what some people will do in their desperation to escape.
“Laoise?!” I raise my voice, effectively losing my patience.
Whether I’m the least loved Ashglo or not, I still carry the responsibility to protect the family name, and I will be held accountable.
“Uh-huh.” She swats at me over her shoulder, absentmindedly shooing me away.
“Promise. Me,” I repeat as my eyes narrow at the back of her head. Her strawberry blonde hair glows like a golden halo in the late afternoon sun.
She straightens, swaying ever so slightly from side to side, and lace slips through her fingers to fall back into the basket.
“I, Laoise Gwyndolin Ashglo, solemnly shwear not to leave thith courtyard for whatever reason.” She speaks mockingly, annoyance clear as crystal in her tone.
It almost makes me smile. Almost, if not for her dilated pupils and impaired balance.
“Good.” My feet are already moving as I voice my approval.
Anxiously, I search the crowd for a tall figure with soft copper hair.
He should be here. His family never misses a day at the market.
But Declan is nowhere in sight. My stomach flutters.
Climbing the four steps leading to the seamstress’ shop entrance, I make use of the extra height to search the sea of men and women before me.
I can’t believe I’m leaving Laoise alone right now, but I don’t know if I’ll have another opportunity to find Declan.
“What of Lord Ashglo?” The words, spoken by a woman, filter from around the corner.
From the dark and narrow passage between the buildings—where passersby wouldn’t notice them; where I hadn’t taken note of them until I heard them speak of my father—a man faces a woman dressed as a soldier.
The woman’s voice is alarmed and infuriated in equal measure.
“I’m merely stating the facts, Eadan.” My heart beats wildly in my chest. His voice. The voice that drew me from my room last night.
“What of your brother? Does he not desire to choose? Or do you wish to damn us all?”
“Only a fool would throw jewels amongst the swine.”
“Fine,” she says with a huff. “It’s your funeral.”
“We’ll discuss our next steps as soon as we’ve concluded our visit.” His words are as cold as winter’s chill.
“And when do you plan on doing that?”
“When I am ready.” Danger lurks in his tone, so raw and primal my eyes squeeze shut upon hearing it.
“What about the girl?”
“When. I. Am. Ready.” He practically growls the words. I shiver, knowing deep down I am that girl. The one who was caught committing a crime. I knew he wouldn’t let me go, even though he walked away. Criminals must be punished, and by law, I’m a criminal.
“Now stop pestering me and resume your post,” he says with an exaggerated sigh.
Heavy boots stomp toward me, and I flatten myself against the wall. My hands ball into fists, digging my nails into my palms. I expect her to round the corner and find me standing here, eavesdropping, again.
She’s tall with beautifully braided hair as white as fresh snow.
She doesn’t wear a dress or anything else to give away her femininity.
Nothing indicates that she is an eligible lady.
Instead, she wears a dark leather corset moulded perfectly to her curves and a matching pair of leather boots over tight black pants with blades sheathed at her hips.
I watch her retreat into the crowd in utter awe.
“You know, it’s rude to listen in on private conversations. Some would say that it’s even criminal.”
I swallow, not daring to so much as blink.
“And then to ignore someone when spoken to.” He clucks his tongue. “I wonder, what mannerisms do they teach the young ladies of Bouldermore?”
“Fine,” I blurt a little louder than I intend to and step out from around the corner in mock confidence.
There isn’t time to warn Declan. No time to ensure that he doesn’t sacrifice his future to save mine.
I know he loves me; I’ve known ever since my sixteenth year.
There’s no telling what he’ll do to protect me, so if there’s no time to stop him from defending me, then I’ll speed up the process.
“Are you going to punish me? Slice off my ear right here at the market?”
“How dramatic you are.” His laughter is low and hushed as he leans back against the wall.
Removing a double-edged dagger from his pocket, he twirls it between his fingers, letting it roll from knuckle to knuckle.
There’s no question that he’s skilled in its use, whatever purpose or method he chooses.
Without concentration. Without effort. As if the act is second nature.
The blade is as dark as a moonless night, not the steel grey I’m used to seeing, but something else completely.
“I wonder… would you have me feed it to you too?”
“I’m not dramatic! You’re the one creating this insufferable suspense. Not me. This is the perfect opportunity for you to enforce your punishment. So do it. Get it over with.” A push, that’s what he needs. Take the bait, asshole.
“Careful, young one, don’t let your temper get the better of you.
You do not know this man or what he is capable of.
You cannot see the blood that stains his hands.
Not the way I do.” I want to shout at the creature occupying my mind, to tell it to go to hell where it belongs, but I focus on the prince instead.
I watch as one side of his mouth quirks into a sly smirk that I don’t trust, exposing a dimple I don’t care to see.
He’s the kind of handsome mothers warn their daughters against. A handsomeness that’s hard to ignore and even harder to trust. One can’t be blessed with both inner and outer beauty in such extraordinary measure.
There has to be a balance, and I instantly hate him for it.
“Careful. I might add another transgression to that fast-growing list of yours. As for the collection of ears…” He pushes off the wall, casually strolling toward me as he sheathes his blade at his side. “It’s such a dull practice, don’t you think?”
“Are you letting me go then?” Annoyance pitches in my voice.
“Is that what you want, Slìbhìn?” He huffs an unamused laugh, looking utterly bored with my company.
“All I desire,” I answer with a generous dose of sarcasm. Pompous prick. I turn, staring at his back as he passes me, but he doesn’t stop. “So, will you?” I ask again, but he doesn’t answer as he disappears into the crowd, leaving me alone in the passageway.
“Control your temper. Tempers are only good for starting wars when there’s no need for one.”