SEVENTEEN #2
“Yes. And after touching you for the duration of a whole fucking song, he knows what you are.” He pushes off the wall. The ligaments along his jaw work while he reties his hair back again. Bile rises in my throat. I have no choice but to leave.
“Fine.” I continue narrowing my eyes at him.
“Fine?”
“I’ll go with you. I won’t put up a fight as long as we can strike a deal.” Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t, my mother always said. The problem is that I know neither of the two.
“I don’t enter bargains, least of all with a human who can’t be bound by its terms,” he growls, drawing closer. I should be scared of him, but I’m not.
“Careful. Bargains are dangerous, especially when sealed with a geas.”
“I’ll go with you without a fuss, as long as you agree to spare Declan and my sister.” I meet his light grey eyes instead of the black I saw earlier. Though I should fear the latter, the grey causes me greater discomfort. Under his stare, I feel naked, like he sees right through me.
“No.” His answer is plain, bored even.
“But…”
“The girl and the boy are under my brother’s hand, not mine. I can’t enter bargains on his behalf. I can only swear not to harm them myself.”
“Bryn!” My name is called out from the dark. Declan runs toward us from the far edge of the stable block, where the horses sleep in their small paddocks.
“He doesn’t know,” I tell the silver-haired prince in front of me. “He doesn’t know that I’m… a threat.” My heart lurches. I’ve never said the words aloud, never fully accepted the reality.
Odhran is livid. His piercing gaze confirms it as black leaches from his pupils to drown the light grey.
Declan’s eyes narrow, studying me, then the man at my side. His hand goes to his hip, to the small utility knife he usually wears on his belt. The iron utility knife. Shadows rise around his feet as he approaches, increasing his pace.
“Wait!” I plead, turning to face Odhran. “I said I’ll go with you without causing any trouble.”
“Humans lie.”
“I promise. Just don’t hurt him,” I beg.
With a groan from the annoyed prince, the shadows fade.
“We don’t have time to waste,” he informs me, then he’s gone. There’s nothing but darkness where he stood a second ago. My head spins, but there’s no time to theorise what I’ve seen.
“The Others! They’re here! And Laoise… you need to help me free Laoise!”
Declan’s hands grip my shoulders. He searches the dark corridor behind me, narrowing his eyes. “Are you alright? You aren’t hurt?” he asks without so much as acknowledging my plea.
“Declan, they took Laoise. She’s been reaped! I need your help!” I grab his arm, my knuckles turning white while tears blur my vision, but he doesn’t react.
“I am sorry, young one. We will find another way,” the creature says. I recall my mother’s book and the charms one should wear to protect themself against being glamoured. Declan isn’t wearing his usual red rowan berries.
I only shake my head in response. Emotion swallows my voice, knowing what I need to say. Goodbye. While I still can.
“You have no other choice.” It’s a gentle caress beneath my skin.
“What are you doing with him alone in the dark?” Declan’s disbelief turns to accusation as he looks down at me, pressing his lips into a thin line.
“I… I was looking for you.” My voice cracks. I can’t believe this is how it all ends. How my life ends. “I saw you at the ball. I ran after you… called after you.” Tears burn my eyes, but I blink them away.
“I wasn’t at the ball, Bryn.” His eyes are void of emotion when he releases my shoulders.
“I’ve been out here with the horses all night.
Melody isn’t nursing her foal. Someone needs to help her or the foal will die.
You know that; my mother explained it to you when you came looking for me.
She told me.” He shakes his head, his movements becoming erratic.
“Lies are less obvious if they’re based on facts, Bryn.
Perhaps it’s something you should keep in mind.
” He waves his hand while he talks, pointing his finger directly at me.
His words strike me like a blade to the chest.
“But I saw you.” I twist my fingers in my skirt, skimming past the subject, avoiding what I need to say. I hate goodbyes. People always leave me, but now I’m the one leaving.
“I don’t know who you saw, but it wasn’t me.” He aims to walk past, still searching the dark corridor, but it’s not curiosity fuelling him, it’s anger.
“Declan.” I take his hand, and he stops. “I’m sorry.”
“For what exactly?” He glowers at me, dividing his attention between me and his search for Odhran.
My heart aches. “I’m leaving.” Because I’m a witch. Because I’m being reaped just like the rest of the lords and ladies in the ballroom. Just like my sister.
“What?” He tenses. Hurt tightens the lines around his eyes, reflecting nothing but my betrayal. “You won’t wait for me?” He snatches his hand from mine, turning his back on me as he aims to return to the paddocks. “I can’t believe it! I can’t believe you!”
“Declan?”
He stops.
“If you didn’t want me, you could’ve just said so.
I had a sense you didn’t truly want a life with me, not the way I want one with you.
Now I know.” He turns, emotion glistening in his eyes.
It’s enough to cause my chest to close in on itself.
“I told myself that you were just shy about your feelings.”
I lunge at him, rising onto my toes, attempting to ease a fraction of this excruciating pain.
My arms fling around his neck, and I press my lips against his.
For a moment, he doesn’t respond, but then Declan’s hands run along the curve of my back.
It hurts, but not as much as saying goodbye.
He kisses me with his whole heart, pulling me into him when his tongue breaches my lips.
My desperation to stay with him, to turn back time, guides me.
We’re both breathless when we break our kiss.
“You’ll always be a part of me.” Tears roll freely down my cheeks as I look up at him.
Odhran clears his throat behind me, and I know he’s been watching this whole time, concealed in his shadows. Declan tenses. His hand goes to the small utility knife once more, but I steady him with a hand on his cheek. Stop.
“Goodbye,” I whisper as my heart breaks.
I can’t breathe. Tears stream down my face when I turn my back on Declan.
Three steps and I’m at Odhran’s side, too numb to pay attention to his arrogant gloating.
To notice the way his vest fits his body when he senselessly tugs it into place.
Too broken to care. Linking my arm into his, I feel my soul weigh a thousand pounds, dragging me down into a lake of sorrow and leaving me to drown.
“What’s happening? What are you doing? Let me go!” Declan roars behind me.
“Ready?” Odhran asks, ignoring him. His voice is barely a whisper as he leans in, enjoying the torment all too much.
“Does it matter?” I answer plainly, staring at nothing in particular.
Declan struggles against Odhran’s shadowy constraints tying his feet to the stone floor outside the burned stables. “Get your hands off of her!” His voice is one of desperation and hurt.
I don’t know what to expect, but this isn’t it.
I don’t expect the sudden rush of wind whistling in my ears and sweeping recklessly against my skin.
I don’t expect shadows as black as the depths of hell to envelop me, robbing me of sight.
I certainly don’t expect the sudden rush or the way my stomach flutters in response.
It’s like a dream where I’m flying through the sky, only to be dropped into nothingness.
Instinctively, my hand tightens on Odhran’s arm, and I hate him even more for it.