SEVENTEEN
brYNDIS ASHGLO
In Hebrew the word “tesher” means tying or binding. It can be said that the act of tessering, traveling through space, is to tie your current location to your desired destination with a thread of magic.
The Legends of The Forgotten, by Tibor Harper
Thoughts, broken and scattered, whirl through my mind like a raging tornado.
They have Laoise. The Others are real. I can’t leave her.
What can I do? Odhran is a monster. The worst of them all.
I exit the kitchen in a posture my governess would be proud of.
Every step I take is a hundred times slower than my instincts scream for them to be, but he’s watching, and I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me scared.
Odhran’s arms are folded across his chest, and a scowl is etched onto his face. I can feel him watching me leave.
My fingers twitch at my sides, palms damp with sweat. The muffled pleas from the ballroom have my stomach in a knot. The cries of families being torn apart are pure torture. I’m not a coward. I’m not running away like a coward. I’ll save her, somehow.
“Do you not feel the wounds stretch and bleed beneath your dress? They deserve this fate.” The creature’s words are a bitter taste in my mouth. He isn’t wrong, but I ignore him anyway.
Rounding the corner, I run, staying on the balls of my feet.
My heart races along with every step I take.
Odhran’s brother is here. Odhran captured them, captured Laoise, for his brother!
My dress swishes wildly behind me as I raise the skirt above my knees.
I need to leave the manor, need to find a way to save Laoise, need to find Declan so that he can help me.
If he isn’t in the ballroom, and he isn’t in the kitchen where I saw him go…
he must be outside. He’ll know what to do.
He’ll know how to save my family and everyone else.
I reach my usual exit in record time. Grabbing my cloak from the brass hook by the door, I throw it over my shoulders.
My hands tremble, and my legs shake. My mind may not be in acceptance of what I just witnessed, but my body receives the message loud and clear.
If I stay, I’ll be reaped along with them.
Adrenaline and undiluted panic flood my system, making my hands shake so that it’s near impossible to fasten the clasp around my neck. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
Declan. It was his red hair I saw. It had to be.
I studied the crowd of shadow-gagged faces over and over, purposefully looking for that same tuft of chaotic red hair and green eyes.
He isn’t there. He isn’t in the ballroom, I assure myself.
My need to find him builds further. He’ll know what to do.
Declan always has a plan mapped out in his mind, and his plans are much better than mine.
I nod once, decided, willing courage into my bones as I touch the cold copper doorknob that will lead me directly to the stable yard.
There’s no use running, Slìbhìn. Odhran’s warning is a knife in my chest, making me hesitate.
Standing in the open door, I look at the path stretched out before me as the cold air stings my face.
On a heavy exhale, my breath forms a plume of white, the way it did when we snuck out a few nights before.
Unlike that night, my teeth don’t clatter, not even when I see a blanket of frost spreading over the gravel and across my path.
So little time has passed since that night, but somehow, it feels like a lifetime ago.
There’s not so much as a breeze blowing, but I taste the tang of soot in the air, heavy and suffocating. My chest tightens in response. Whether guilt brings it on or my weak lungs, I can’t tell. All I know is that it’s insufferable.
Only the stone walls of our stables remain standing, the grey carved stone now black as night.
Gone are the thatched roofs. The leather saddlery in the centre of the building, destroyed.
The wooden doors and thick beams, rendered to a heap of ash and coal.
Declan did this… for me. Every muscle in my body aches to run and never look back but remains locked in place at the same time.
He burned down the stables to avoid running away with me. This is a mistake.
I pause, standing alone in the middle of the frosted path. The sound of blood roaring in my ears fills the quiet night. Declan is leaving, and he’s leaving with Prince Eamon. I need to warn him.
Footsteps grate on the stone path behind me. My heart thunders in my chest. His pace is calm, confident, making no attempt to hide his approach. A few more steps and he’ll round the corner and find me beside the burned down stables. Only a few more steps.
Remembering the book, I search for reason.
Pages turn over in my mind as if caught in the wind, but I can’t focus.
I should have studied it like the concoctions in my mother’s herbal handbook!
My palms press to my temples. I can’t remember everything.
Only that The Others are as cruel as they are beautiful.
That they delight in anguish and torment about as much as a sweet drink.
I remember they’re immortal and that… iron!
The pages in my mind stop turning, left open on a single topic.
They hate iron. They despise it so much that they’ll pass an entrance decorated with it.
I can almost swear I smelled burning flesh when Odhran grabbed the hanger from me, but my focus was on his mouth and the sneer that parted his lips.
His sharp, pointed cuspids. His eyes were as black as night.
Shadows dripped from his fingers and slithered across the floor like snakes.
Odhran isn’t just any monster; he’s one of them. Faerie.
Gathering my heavy skirts in both hands, I run down the path leading along the side of the stables.
The gravel hurts my feet, the cold making it worse.
My chest aches from running, every breath like fire in my lungs.
There’s nowhere to hide, but I have to find something made of iron, and my best bet is in the shed next to Declan’s house.
The moon is almost full, casting its traitorous light on me. Odhran stands in the path behind me, his silver hair tied back into an untidy bun. Broad shoulders and rolled-up black sleeves. It’s too late. He sees me, but instead of chasing after me, he proceeds at a leisurely pace.
Three more stables, then another turn toward Declan’s home.
Two.
One.
My hand catches the edge of the blackened wall. I leap off the step, taking the corner. Air leaves my lungs with an ungraceful oef. My face, my entire body, collides with something hard and unmoving. Cinnamon and peppermint overwhelm my senses, and my heart stutters. Fuck!
Large hands grab hold of my hips, steading me, capturing me.
“You know what, on second thought, we leave now.” His voice is deep, commanding, yet as calm as the gentle flutter of leaves in the trees overhead.
I didn’t heed his warning from earlier, but instead of fear, a roiling heat builds within me.
I hate him. I hate him more than I’ve hated anyone in my entire life.
My head still spins from crashing into him, forming white spots in my vision. “Get your hands off of me!” I protest, kicking his shin with such force my toes crunch. I need to get away from him. I need to find Declan. I need to save my sister.
Annoyance takes residence in his tone. “If I let you go, will you stand without injuring yourself?”
“Fuck you!” Shoving my palms against his chest, I free myself from his grip and step away. Pride swirls briefly within me.
Odhran pushes up his rolled sleeves, pairing the action with a pained groan. “Have I ever told you that you’re the most annoying mortal I’ve ever come to know?” Mortal. If looks could kill, I wish mine would strike him from this world. To him, I’m merely a mortal. A squashable bug.
“I thought you were meant to be honey-tongued.”
Odhran narrows his eyes into a steady glare.
“If I’m so annoying, why don’t you leave me be?” My voice sounds smaller than I intended it, and I despise the sound.
“Hold on to your anger, young one. Make it your strength.” The creature’s voice is soft and slightly drowsy, as though waking from a dream, rising from being drugged.
“That’s not an option.” He pauses, his shoulders slackening as he rakes his fingers through his hair.
The arrogance of this man is sickening. “After your little dance with my brother’s royal informant and your recent heroic display, do you really think it wise to stray from my side? ” He leans against the blackened wall.
“My bet is on, yes.” I narrow my eyes at him while my mouth contorts into a sneer.
“Typical.” He sighs, and the way the corners of his mouth twitch downward conveys his displeasure in my answer. “Humans are so fucking boring. One always predicts their actions.”
I’d spit at him if I could.
“You are… what do you lot call it?” Odhran puts a finger to his chin. “Oh, that’s right… a threat.” The corners of his lips quirk into a cruel smile when he laughs, taunting me. “As threatening as a newly weaned kitten.”
A witch, that’s why I’m a threat. “How do you—” My words are but a breath in the night.
“When someone is born of magic, it isn’t hard to ascertain its presence in another.
One touch is all it takes.” He leans against the wall, facing away from me, his fingers drumming against his folded arms. The pace confirms his agitation.
“I know it, and now, thanks to my brother’s informant, he’ll know it too.
So, you’re leaving this shithole, with or without me.
If you’d practiced this skill I’m certain you’d be able to tell too. ”
“The royal informant?” My heart stumbles in my chest. The man with the greying hair. He wasn’t a lord in attendance; he was… How can I save Laoise when I know so little?