TWENTY-SIX
brYNDIS ASHGLO
Nettle tea brings allergy relief and treats inflammation, but more importantly, it strengthens the soul, banishes negativity, and enhances resilience. Add its leaves to your bath for spiritual renewal.
The Herbal Healer’s Handbook, by Agnes O’Connell
Shadows cover the floor-to-ceiling windows like they did before Declan arrived with the prince.
Not so much as a golden spear of light escapes the shield of onyx.
It’s the only version of this home that reflects who Odhran is, dark and solitary.
Deep down, he shares my affinity for privacy, finding his truest contentment in stillness and the absence of light.
The floor is cool under my bare feet, my hips rolling as I walk, silk gliding over my legs.
Every movement brings forth a gentle caress.
I forget how my dress reveals too much as I head straight for Odhran, my fingers flexing restlessly at my sides.
He stands at his liquor cabinet, lined with glasses and endless bottles that put my father’s collection to shame. The stained-glass doors, meticulously crafted to mimic the appearance of creeping vines, are wide open.
Glass clinks as he knocks the items together on the lower shelf. When he steps back, a full crystal decanter glistens in his grip. My nose scrunches at the sight, practically tasting it on my tongue. Its sickening sweetness makes my stomach turn.
My strides grow longer, faster, spurred on by the recollection of his words. I will touch whatever I desire, as long as the lady enjoys it as much as I will. I don’t reach him before his lips press against the transparent rim of the decanter.
Yanking it from his grip, I turn it upside down with my outstretched arm raised at my side.
Liquid splashes against my legs and pools at my feet.
Odhran’s eye twitches, the action so slight I almost miss it, as he stares at the mess I’m creating.
As he stares at his liquid gold poured out and worthless.
“That is the last time you will use me to inflate your oversized ego,” I tell him, practically hissing the words.
I put an end to more than one life in the woods last night.
The girl who sidesteps her own needs in favour of everyone else’s died beside the emaciated faerie.
The version of myself whose heart still beats doesn’t give a fuck anymore.
I will say what I need to say, and damn the rest.
My face heats with agitation. “You’re not a child.
Stop acting like one.” The empty decanter makes a sharp clink when I slam it on the countertop.
His eyes don’t leave me for a second. Dark and intense, they roam from my lips down my neck, settling on my silk night dress.
I pull back my shoulders, standing my ground, despite feeling naked under his stare.
“What are you going to do, Slìbhìn? Run? Kill me? You’ve tried both those things, and yet, here we are.” His voice is a dangerous rumble as he takes a step toward me, closing the distance between us. His body is a hand’s breadth away from mine. With the slightest breath, my chest touches his ribs.
I clear my throat, refusing to move so much as a hair’s width away. I won’t give in. “Fuck you, Odhran.” My eyes narrow when his lips curve into a smirk, as if my words satisfy something deep inside of him.
“Does anyone know how fierce you truly are?”
I’m standing flush with him one second and flat against a wall the next. My breath catches in my throat, sounding awfully close to a gasp.
“Ask me what drink I crave more than any other.” His cuspids lengthen into sharp points as his tongue slides over their tips.
Blood. Faeries, especially those of the Unseelie Court, crave the taste of blood.
It’s what fuels their magic, what prevents their deterioration.
They draw strength from it. Find gratification in it.
I know this from the teachings in my mother’s book, the one he left on my bed.
Aed encouraged me to catch up on my reading before leaving my room.
If not for blood, he will become what I killed in the forest.
“You won’t hurt me.” His posture changes as he pins me to the wall.
His demeanour shifts from arrogant to tense in half a heartbeat.
My nerve endings fire all at once as I become painfully aware of every inch of his body pressing against mine.
His chest rises and falls beneath my palms, his heart beating faster, in rhythm with my own.
“What makes you so sure of that?” he breathes against my neck. I don’t move away from him. Instead, I angle my jaw, exposing my throat. Proving my point.
“I’ve been around you for a while now.” I swallow, my words a breathy whisper.
“I’ve given you every reason, every opportunity.
” As quickly as he pressed himself against me, he retreats.
Those strong hands push through his unruly hair.
Tanned skin against silver hair. Every aspect of Odhran is a contradiction.
Every facet is in stark contrast to everything I’ve ever known to be true.
Playing into his hands is a risk, but I’m right. He has no intention of hurting me.
“If you try to see something good in me, you’ll be sorely disappointed.” He steps away, turning on his heel to remove a second decanter from his cabinet.
“I’m not an idiot, Odhran. You aren’t the only one to hide behind the effects of substances.
That numbing effect wears off and leaves a hole greater than the one you try to fill.
But I guess you already know that.” I push off the wall, tugging the seam of my dress to set it straight.
“Get yourself cleaned up. I’m not leaving with you tonight if you smell like a gods damned tavern. ”
“Anything for you, Bryn, bane of my fucking blight.” He tosses his head back, swallowing the contents of a fresh glass with a hiss.
I thought I was lost within myself, but compared to him, I’m a compass.
I’ll go with him tonight and help him with whatever he needs done, but I expect him to help me in return and reunite me with my sister.
I march right through the pool of liquor, letting it splash under my feet, then straight through the large double doors ahead of me.
My heart beats like it’s running in a race.
My eyes see nothing but flashes of his hands beside my head, caging me against the wall.
Tanned fingers bunching my hair against the wooden panelling embellished with golden patterns.
“Eadan will be here shortly. She’ll take you to see the royal tailor. It’s about time you wear your own clothes.” Everything about his voice, the volume with which he speaks, the way he stresses his words, sounds so distant. I frown, refusing to look back at him.
“Fantastic! I can’t wait to dress according to your liking,” I say with cheerful sarcasm, slamming the door shut behind me. For a moment, I imagine hearing him laugh. I pause, but there’s only silence.
Turning to face the wall where I saw the concealed door, I hear nothing but the heavy beat of my heart. Flattening my palms against the velvety wallpaper, I lean in, but it doesn’t budge.
“It will not be this simple,” Aed tells me.
“Then how?”
“It will require a key.”
I search the wallpaper for a tiny hole or slit, something to break through to the structure below. Aed’s laughter rumbles in my mind, immediately irritating me. “Not a physical key, human. It will be a spoken word, a gestured wave, a secret knock, or even a drop of blood.”
“Then there’s no use trying.” I blow out a breath and step back. The weight of defeat is heavy within my chest. No, I’ll find a way.
My bedroom is dimly lit by the faint flickering of candlelight in the corner. The air is stale, carrying a hint of damp, the faint scent of old books, and Odhran. Silence hangs heavily, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves outside and the distant, muffled sounds of footsteps in the hall.
Wrapping the corset around my ribs, the cold leather seeps through my black silk slip, but my expression remains unaffected.
The fluttering beat of my heart and the flush in my cheeks is unchanged.
Odhran possesses the extraordinary power to simultaneously infuriate and comfort me.
I look towards his wardrobe, the image of him and the blonde woman renewing itself in my mind. Arrogant bastard.
Unfolding the note Declan placed in my palm, I run my fingertips over his writing. His cursive is clumsy and unrefined, and the sight makes me smile.
Bryn,
This note is written on enchanted paper. Anything you write here will be duplicated on my copy. Write to me. I miss you.
Declan
Three rapid knocks on my door serve as my summons. I quickly fold the note and shove it beneath my corset. “Let’s get going, Ashglo. We need to be back before dark.” Eadan’s voice is as emotionless as it was yesterday morning.
“I’ll be right there.” I tie the mile-length laces of the boots she loaned me as her footsteps give away her approach.
“Are you ready or not?” Her yawn is accompanied by dark bags under her eyes, revealing her exhaustion. Spending a few days with them, I now understand that faeries are predominantly twilight beings, slumbering peacefully while the sun sits high in the sky.
“I look ridiculous.” I tug at the top of my slip, allowing the soft, silky fabric to show above the dark brown corset. My ears burn thinking of stepping out of the room looking the way I do. My stepmother would keel over and die right here if I were truly her daughter.
Eadan’s huff of amusement is barely audible, but it’s enough to turn my stomach into a knot.
“Actually…” She looks me up and down, her stony expression warming with the slightest hint of a smile.
“I think you look rather good. Not quite ready for battle or a ball, but still…” She looks past me, toward the door at my back. “What do you think?”