TWENTY-EIGHT
brYNDIS ASHGLO
It is improbable for faeries and humans to be mates. The two species were set up against each other by Nature, doomed to be enemies for eternity.
The Legends of The Forgotten, by Tibor Harper
The sight of tall trees fills the darkness, the rustling of leaves replacing the sound of whistling wind.
I find myself gripping Odhran’s arm as he ushers us into the new scenery.
As the tornado of darkness and beating wings dies, the exhilarating sensation of falling still lingers, tingling across my skin like static.
I feel alive, more so than I ever have before.
More than sneaking out of the manor back home.
The realisation turns sideways in my throat.
“Is it like this for everyone when they tesser?” I ask, clearing my throat.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m talking about the wind and the feathers and shadows.” I feel more and more like an idiot. I don’t like asking personal questions, perhaps because no one ever asks them to me aside from Laoise’s prying.
“No.” His answer is plain and simple. He pauses so long I don’t think he’ll say anything further.
After a heavy exhale, he continues, “Magic is unpredictable. It doesn’t favor us all.
Some have giftings while others don’t. The faerie you encountered in the woods did not.
Those like him are first to deteriorate; they’re less likely to feed and retain strength.
Among those with the gift of magic, its strength and manifestation varies between individuals.
My fingerprint, as you may call it, is that of ravens and shadows.
It’s an identity shaped by my formative years.
They’re my eyes when I’m not present. My weapons when I have none.
” His words quiet. “My hands when I can’t touch. ”
A cool breeze brushes my cheek, and my breath catches.
I gaze up at Odhran, our eyes locking for a stretched-out moment. “Your heart is racing,” he says, a faint frown tugging at his brows. “Are you afraid since anger no longer burns through you?” Somehow, I sense he’s asking if I’m afraid of him.
I swallow, answering both questions with a clear, “No.” The truth.
“That is most unwise.” A smile slowly spreads across Odhran’s lips, and I can’t help but be captivated by its warmth. My eyes linger on his lips for a moment longer than intended, bringing a gentle blush rising to my cheeks.
“Where are we?” I turn to look around me, changing the subject to something other than him.
One safer to look at and appreciate. The tall, dark trees tower above us, their branches creating a canopy that partially obscures the glinting stars.
The air is cold enough to see my breath plume with every exhale, chilling my skin.
These trees aren’t smooth and silvery. Their bark doesn’t peel off in slithers like a moulting snake.
They’re different from the ones surrounding Odhran’s home.
“You’ll see,” he says, motioning for me to lead the way with his outstretched hand. The path is slippery and steep, forcing me to rely on the trees for support. My fingertips clutch their rough bark in an attempt to maintain my balance.
“Can you give me one truth?” he asks. I’m tempted to turn and face him, but I resist, fearing that my expression will reveal more than I intend. I don’t want him to see my uncertainty.
“Alright…” I hesitate, my heart pounding. “But then I expect the same in return.”
“Fae can’t lie.” His amusement is a lull in his tone. I want to slap him for it. I know they can’t lie, and he knows it.
“So I hear.” Sarcasm is clear in my voice, clipped and flat.
I aim it at him like a blade. “Though you are rather creative in sidestepping answers. Isn’t that the same as lying?
” I have countless questions, making it difficult to determine which I need answered the most. One truth isn’t enough.
I’m willing to offer him multiple truths in exchange for more of his. After all, what’s the worst he can ask?
“Touché.” His answer comes with a deep, rolling chuckle.
There’s a heavy pause of silence as we weave down the mountain between the trees. Finally, he speaks in a cautious tone. “Why doesn’t the red-headed boy know about the scars on your back?”
My heart races, climbing up my throat as I struggle to find an answer. Out of all the possible questions, this is the one that gnaws at him? “I don’t know,” I utter, the words catching in my throat, my apprehension bubbling beneath the surface.
“You know the rules, Bryn. Something true,” he insists, his voice gentle but firm.
I spot a fallen tree off the narrow path and make my way toward it.
My feet slide under me as though I’m walking on ice.
If I’m going to give him a serious answer, I’ll need to sit down.
The crunch of pine needles and the ripping of roots under my boots fills the air as I duck under a snapped branch and step onto the thick trunk.
I climb up, realising it’s higher than I’d expected, and peer down at the steep decline before me, making my stomach flutter.
“I don’t want his pity,” I spit out my response.
He waits, expecting me to continue, so I do.
“If he knows, if he pities me, I’ll become what he thinks me to be.
” I speak as though scolding him, and perhaps I am.
How dare he ask! How dare he insinuate that he knows me?
That he knows Declan! That he knows anything about my life!
“Which is?” There’s a calmness in his tone, as if he’s genuinely interested. I frown, staring forward.
Twigs snap as he climbs up to sit beside me on the fallen tree, causing it to rock slightly under his weight. I raise an eyebrow at him. “I thought you said one truth?”
He chuckles, his laughter echoing in the stillness around us. “Slìbhìn…”
“I don’t like the name you’ve given me. I’m not sly and untrustworthy. At least, that’s not what I want to be.” I hang my head, giving him a second truth. Closing my cloak around my chest, I seek solace in its warmth.
His voice softens as he says, “I’m sorry. I won’t use it again.” A weight eases from my shoulders when I look at him, the prince of darkness, reclining against the roots of the tree as though it were the backrest of a couch.
“Declan views me as breakable. Small. If he knew about the lashings, it would give him another reason to shelter me. He’s supposed to help me forget about the things that happen within the walls of the manor.
If I see his pity, I won’t be able to escape it.
” I’m met with a look I hadn’t seen on him before.
“Your turn.” His voice is a rumbling whisper as he leans against a branch with one foot propped on the stump.
I take a moment to admire him—the way his black-on-black attire suits him, in harmony with the intensity of his gaze, in agreement with every feature on his face, and so in disagreement with how casual he looks.
“Why am I here?”
I sense his discomfort as he runs a hand down his face, groaning. “Ask me something else… a favourite meal, perhaps. Something that won’t make you hate me.”
“Odhran.” I raise a brow at him. If I had to answer honestly, so does he. “I already know your favourite meal.”
“Doubtful.” He huffs an unamused laugh.
“I gave you three truths. The least you can do is give me this one.” My fingers drum against the branch in my grip.
“I saw what your stepmother and governess did.” His lip curls into an expression somewhere between rage and disgust. “I needed to get you out. If I can’t save myself, I’ll save you instead.”
What happened to you? I want to ask, but guilt swallows the question completely. Eadan’s words fill my mind. How deep do you want to wade into this? Asking him outright feels too personal, a commitment I’m not ready to make.
“So, not selfless at all.” I huff an uncomfortable laugh.
“Not entirely, no.” He stares into the darkness.
I swallow, moving on to my next question. “The ravens in my room? Was that you?”
With the twist of his wrist, he summons a raven to roost on the branch in my grip. “I should have torn those two women apart right there. I should have ended them in that instant. More so, I should have let you do the honours.”
“Thank you.” The memory of those ravens, their presence keeping the loneliness at bay, brings warmth to my cheeks.
They saved me from drowning in my despair.
He saved me. More than once. We’re both broken, more alike than we care to admit.
Reaching for the raven, I offer it my hand, and it climbs on without hesitation.
Its nails are sharp, and it’s much heavier than I anticipated.
It’s beautiful, a dreary beauty that calls to something deep within me.
Odhran clears his throat, adjusting his position on the stump beside me.
“Last truth before we go.” He swings his leg off the stump to face in the same direction I am.
The rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets provide a comforting backdrop to our conversation. “Do you hate me for taking you away?”
Something turns within me. My answer should be yes, was yes shortly after my arrival, but since then, something’s changed. The scent of dirt and rotted foliage grounds me. My fingers pick at the rough edges of bark beneath them. The raven tilts its head, analysing me with an eye of light grey.
“No. Not anymore.” The words escape me, carrying a mix of honesty and uncertainty.
Despite Declan’s promise to liberate me from Odhran’s control, I can’t deny the strange sense of safety I feel under his roof.
It’s a place where I can unleash my emotions without restraint.
A freedom I’ve never experienced before, not in the manor nor with Declan.
With Odhran, I’m free to be me, unafraid of what anyone will think or say.
He hops off the stump, landing gracefully on the slippery slope below. “Trust me,” he says, and I realise that I already do. The raven takes to the sky, wind whistling between its feathers.