Page 43 of A Court of Ravens
Niall’s gaze sharpens. “And how exactly do you know the púca was ahe?”
Great question. I was about to ask the same thing. We’re practically in sync now with our interrogation. It’s bloody scary, but in a good way.
The man shifts, shoving his hands into his pockets like they’ll hide whatever he’s not telling us. “Aye, everyone knows the púca are stallions. They pillage the village at night.”
Niall snorts. “You’ve got a hell of an imagination, mate.”
“And what did this púca look like?” I ask, though I’m already bracing for the absurdity of his answer.
“It was a stallion,” he insists, his voice dropping to a hushed reverence. “Black as midnight…”
“Of course it was,” Niall says, his tone as dry as the Irish whiskey behind the bar. “Well, if your memory clears up, Felicity would love to hear all about it.”
Doubtful, but I nod, playing along. The island’s magic and tonight’s revelations already have my head spinning more than Niall’s dancing ever could. “If you remember anything else, don’t hesitate to stop by Pier House and ask for Felicity Forrest.”
It’s my go-to line for supernatural witnesses, but this guy? Not buying it. The site’s not exactly nearby, and if I’d been jumped and left bleeding like that, I’d beeline for soap and stitches—not a pint.
Okay,maybea pint. But only after I stopped leaking.
Niall slaps cash on the bar, and we leave the buzzing whispers behind. The night greets us with a briny chill.
“So,” I say, pulling my sweater tighter. “What is it you wanted to show me?”
He glances at me, his eyes dark. Unreadable. “It’s complicated.”
“Great,” I mutter, though my curiosity has already latched on and isn’t letting go.
We walk in silence, the crunch of gravel underfoot the only sound between us. I can’t help but wonder what this complication of his might be. Something to confirm what I suspect? Or something that flips everything on its head?
Either way, I can’t shake my newfound half-sister’s warning about Niall.
ChapterSeventeen
FELICITY FORREST
“Aithreach Decline steals our magic and withers our connection to the world. Even the brightest light fades into oblivion.”
Book of Shadows (Tír na ScáilLost History), Forgotten Tomes Archive
Niall doesn’t say a word, just tightens his grip and hauls me toward the stone cottage like it’s the last safe place on earth. My chest goes tight. I don’t know what’s coming, but the dread curling in my gut says it’s going to be a bombshell.
We reach the door. He pauses, his hand braced against the weathered wood. “You’re not going to like this.”
I scoff. “That’s not exactly breaking news. Maybe just tattoo it on your forehead and save us both some time.”
He pushes the door open. The warm scent of earth and wood smoke greets us. It’s cosy, if not for the tension radiating off him.
I step in hesitantly, my sweater suddenly not enough to stop the chill seeping into my bones. The driftwood mirror by the door catches my eye, its surface gleaming like water under moonlight. I shiver, pulling my sweater tighter around me.
Niall shuts the door with a soft click and turns to face me. “I need you to listen. Really listen. What I’m about to say?—”
“Is going to piss me off. Got it.” I cross my arms, steeling myself. “Rip the bandage off.”
He closes the distance between us, his hands brushing my shoulders. His gaze softens. I hate that it makes me want to forgive him before I even know what he’s done.
“I shouldn’t have used willweaving on you,” he grits out, like a confession he’s forced to drag out.
“Willweaving?” My voice sharpens, and my arms drop to my sides. “What the hell is that?”
