Page 1 of A Court of Ravens
ChapterOne
FELICITY FORREST
“Sidestepping a memory spell? It’s like a night out you’re going to pretend never happened. Resist the spell, but trust me, you’ll wake up wishing all you had was a headache.”
Aisling Talamhain, Revered Seer
My head is doing a drum solo in rhythm to Cyn’s snoring, which I can hear through the wall between our adjoining rooms. It’s courtesy of what feels like a hangover from hell, except I’m sure I only nursed a pint last night. Or did I? Maths were never my strong suit, especially not with a brain that currently feels like someone is stabbing me through the eyes with an ice pick. I don’t remember much from the night before, except a wild dream withhimin it.
I groan, shoving my face under a pillow to block out Cyn. It’s like she’s competing with a freight train—and winning. There’s got to be a secret age where hangovers shift from slight headaches to near-death experiences. I must have crossed that threshold around pint number five…or was it six?
I remember sitting with Cyn, Father Cleary, and Jenna at the pub. I vaguely recall us chatting up two guys and Niall walking me back. But there is something off about Niall. Not in a bad way, but different. I can’t put my finger on it. Everything else? Blank. Every time I think of him, it’s like staring into an abyss. Beautiful, but you know you’ll never survive the fall. When I try to focus on him, sharp pain blooms behind my eyes.
Why does he have me all twisted up? He hasCynwritten all over him, yet I’m feeling all…whateverthisis. Annoyed? Intrigued? Both? I don’t remember anything beyond him walking me from the pub to Pier House.
I’m not looking for anything serious. Last night proves I haven’t changed. It’s easier to walk away. I wasn’t ready to let go, but one more break would end me. Whatever tension sizzled between us? It was a game. I played it right back just to see if he’d flinch. He didn’t. That’s what makes him dangerous. But thinking about the way his gaze pinned me down and his fingertips brushing the pulse thrumming on my inner wrist is a slippery slope I’m not prepared to fall down. Not when I don’t trust him or myself.
I squeeze the pillow tighter over my head to block out the racket outside my window.
Tap, tap, tap.
I peer from beneath the pillow and glance out the window. There’s a bird outside, glaring at me like it’s got a personal vendetta. I know the feeling, bird. Iknowthe feeling.
With a long sigh, I finally give in to the daylight sneaking through and toss the pillow aside.Fuck..Everything hurts. My phone starts ringing and buzzing. I fumble around on the nightstand until I find it.
“Hello?” I sound like I’ve swallowed a handful of sandpaper.
“You sound hungover, but Cyn must be worse because she’s not even answering,” Nathan says.
I have no idea how things went with Tomas after he and Cyn left the pub. I’m not about to spill any details about her possible late-night hook-up.Not my circus, not my…well, anyway.I’ll hear all about her fun over breakfast.
“We had a late one. She’s out cold. The priest introduced me to the woman who took the photo. Jenna Hall,” I mutter, rubbing my eyes.
“And what’s your take on it?” Nathan’s voice is all business now.Thank fuck.
I hesitate for a second. “It’s hard to say, but after breakfast, Jenna’s taking me to the site where she snapped the picture. We’ll check out the construction area where all theaccidentsare supposedly happening.”
“Well, don’t forget to blog your thoughts as you go along. You know how much the readers love following the case in real-time,” Nathan says like that’s the most important thing right now.
“Yeah, yeah. Tea and aspirin first, investigative work second.”
“And make sure you update me if anythinginterestingpops up,” Nathan adds, but I get what he’s implying. I’m not giving him any info on Cyn.
I roll my eyes. “Sure thing. I’ll call you tonight.”
His voice softens a little. “One last thing before I go…”
“What?”
“Don’t let her get too reckless. You know she needs someone to keep her…grounded.”
Yeah, as if we’re not in the middle of nowhere. The Aran Islands are practically a forgotten corner of the world, but I get it. He’s doing what men do when they can’t stand being left out—hovering, meddling, and pretending it’s for someone else’s good. And Nathan? He’s not just in love with her; he’s practically branded her in his head.
I know how much he cares for her—in his own clingy, borderline leechy way—but he has no idea what he’s dealing with. He can ask all the questions he wants, drop as many hints as he likes, but I’m not selling Cyn out.
The only thing I’m focused on is tea, aspirin, and the dream I had last night. Something about horseback riding…but not the wholesome kind. No, this was dark, visceral, and a little too erotic for comfort. Definitely a conversation for Cyn, not Nathan.
“She’ll be fine. Talk to you later.” I hang up and groan.
