Page 11 of A Court of Ravens
-Keep Cyn busy.-I command Tomas with mindspeak.
His mental groan is practically audible.-Fine, but you owe me. Big.-
“Have you been down to the beach, Cynthia?” Tomas asks.
“Not yet. Why don’t you show me?” she says, hooking a hand through his arm.
Tomas peers down at Cyn. There’s a flicker in his eyes, a shadow that vanishes as quickly as it appears before he smooths his features into an impassive mask. “Do you mind if I borrow your friend?”
Cyn nods her encouragement.
Felicity purses her lips. “Of course not. Have fun, you two.”
Her gaze avoids mine, clinging to Cyn and Tomas as if they’re lifelines. A futile display of pretence. Her body tells a different story. The subtle tremor in her hand, the almost imperceptible quickening of her breath…that’s an unintentional tell.
“And you? How was your night?” I ask.
“Fine,” she says, meeting my eyes, but the colour rising to her cheeks tells a different story. Her gaze darts away, like a cornered animal. It’s not a reaction you expect from idle conversation. No, this is the look of someone wrestling with a memory they shouldn’t have, a memory I stole.
Regret gnaws at me. She deserves a love that consumes her but doesn’t hold her back. A life packed with adventure, the chance to face any damn challenge she chooses. Even a little danger…if she’s that kind of reckless. Gods, not me. Not what last night almost became.
I can’t tell if she’s grasped at some sliver of the truth or if it’s the guilt crawling under my skin, whispering that I’ve already let her get too close.
My gaze lands on the ocean. “Fine. Shall we walk a bit?”
She nods, her steps falling into rhythm with mine. We walk in silence, careful not to touch. The silence stretches between us, not empty but alive. Each glance pulls me closer to her.
She doesn’t realise the power she wields. She doesn’t know that every quiet moment like this only deepens my need to stay near her and learn the mysteries behind her guarded eyes.
I glance at her, watching how the sunlight catches the lines of her face. There’s a tension in her shoulders, an edge to her movements, but she’s softening, little by little. The silence should calm me, but my beast stirs beneath my skin. Restless. Ravenous. It’s a battle to hold him back, to keep from doing something careless.
As we walk, a flash of black catches my eye. Thecait-shìthagain. That intelligent lavender gaze locks on me. Watching me. What's its game? I scan the shadows, searching for answers. It’s following us.
She breaks the quiet, a glint in her eye. “Tell me something interesting. Something about your family. The messy parts.”
“Two younger sisters. One’s a pain in the arse, but what are you going to do? And my da…” I trail off, watching her reaction closely. Obsidian Court. Shadows.Does she know?
She toys with a loose thread on her fingerless leather gloves, twisting it between her fingers like it might unravel something more. Then, as if catching herself, she shoves her hands into her pockets, locking away the fidgeting before it betrays her. “What about your mum?”
Sharing about my sisters and father is a carefully crafted illusion. My mother…a name I keep locked away, a secret I won't share for Darcy’s sake. A shadow that whispers of his deal with the deep ones. A future with me? A strategic alliance, a game of power. Just like her. Distance. It’s the only way to maintain my autonomy. The salt stings my eyes, even here.
“She died giving birth to my youngest sister,” I say, my gaze drifting away. A closed door. No body. No ceremony. Whispers. Betrayal. And Darcy’s eyes, so green, like polished jade.A shade I’ve only seen in…My thoughts trail off. A chill settles deep in my bones.
“I’m sorry, Niall,” she says, her voice less guarded. She shifts slightly, the rigidness in her posture easing.
Her compassion cuts through me. It’s gentler than I deserve. “Don’t be. It was a long time ago.”
She tilts her head, her brow furrowing. “It must have been hard growing up in a house with sisters.”
A laugh slips out. “Aye, they can be a handful.” I let the corner of my mouth lift. It’s easier to talk about them. “Sometimes, though, you make sacrifices for family. And after a while, you realise it wasn’t as much of a sacrifice as you thought.”
Her eyes soften. “It’s sweet. You must love them very much.”
“Aye,” I say, meeting her gaze. It’s like she’s trying to look right through me, and for a second, I wonder what she’s hoping to find. Sadness flickers across her face. It’s gone so fast that it feels like I imagined it. Then comes the smile, polished enough to pass as genuine. It’s not. It’s armour. She doesn’t even know she’s wearing it, but I do.
Maybe she’s thinking about her parents again. She told me she lost them. It hits me harder than it should. Thank the old gods, I still have my twin and Darcy. The rest? A crown, a father, a court that feels more like a cage than a home? She’s got no one, but some days, I envy that.
But she doesn’t need anyone else. Not when I’m standing right here.
