Page 80 of The Violet Raven

“Don’t ye see it? The butterfly? It’s so pretty—like a wee fairy. Let’s catch it!”

I hesitate, glancing back toward the clearing where my family’s voices fade into the distance. Something deep in my belly twists. A shadow of uncertainty brushes against my thoughts, but it disappears as quickly. Colina tugs at my hand, her excitement contagious. “We’ll be quick. I promise.”

Her words are a net, and I follow her into the thick of the woods, our laughter mingling with the rustling leaves. The butterfly flits just ahead, its wings catching slivers of sunlight that peek through the canopy.

Then it happens.

Colina stops suddenly. The butterfly darts away, but she doesn’t seem to care. Her face shifts, like a cloud passing over the sun. The warmth drains from her eyes, replaced by something colder, darker. Her fingers, once soft around mine, tighten before she lets go. “Wait here,” she says. Before I can ask why, she disappears behind the trees, leaving me alone.

“Colina?” I call, but the trees swallow my voice. My legs feel rooted in place, my chest tightens as the minutes stretch into an eternity.

When she reappears, relief floods through me—until I see she is holding a rock

Her lips press into a thin line. “Justice is makin’ things right, no matter what it takes. And ye... ye’re the reason it’s all wrong. Ye ruin everything, Triona.”

“Colina, what are you doin’?”

The last thing I remember is the weight of the blow—heavier than I expected, sharp, merciless. Pain shatters through my skull, a white-hot explosion behind my eyes. The world tilts sideways, and then—nothing. Darkness rushes in like a wave, swallowing me whole.

I wake to warmth against the cold. I expect to see Colina’s face leering down at me, but she’s gone. Instead, there is a boy, crouched beside me, his face blurring in and out of focus. For a moment, he is light against the dark, like something conjured from a dream.

His hands tremble, hovering as if he’s afraid to touch me. When he finally brushes my hair away, his breath catches. His fingers come away red. His eyes—wide, stricken—lock onto mine, as if looking anywhere else might break something inside him.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, as if saying it makes it true. His voice is young, raw with conviction, and yet—fragile. “Ye’re safe now.” A pause. A hesitant breath. “I won’t let anyone hurt ye… not if I can help it.”

I feel every bit of the truth in his words.

Colina wasn’t a friend that day. She was the storm.

Finn just another piece in her twisted game. No, this is about me. About her sick need to erase me—not for what I’ve done, but for what I am. A shadow she cannot shake. A reminder she cannot stand.

“Colina,” I say, my voice measured, hiding the tremor beneath, “my brothers and Finn will be back soon. They’ll find you here, cornering me.”

She cackles. “They won’t because ye’ll be gone, and there’s no one here that can stop that from happenin’.”

“Colina, enough of this,” I mutter, forcing my voice to remain steady. I edge around her, aiming for the door, but the dizziness that’s been lingering crashes over me in full force.

My vision blurs, the edges darkening, my stomach twisting violently. A low, dull ringing settles in my ears, warping Colina’s words into something distant and distorted. My knees buckle, the ground rushing toward me—too fast, too soon, and I can’t stop it.

My palms slam against the stable floor as I collapse onto all fours, struggling to fight the dizziness that threatens to pull me under. My breath comes in short, sharp gasps, the scent of hay and damp earth overwhelming me. The world tilts again, nausea curling deep in my stomach. The ground feels unsteady beneath my hands. Then—a shift in the air, the snap of a riding crop slicing through the stillness. Before I can react, fire lashes across my back.

A scream rips from my throat as I pitch forward, barely catching myself before my face hits the ground. My arms shake as I press my palms harder against the stable floor, forcing myself up—trying to run, to escape—but the nausea surges, colliding with the fresh agony ripping through me. I gag, my stomach heaving violently. I hardly have time to brace before the next lash comes, searing across my back.

I cry out, my body jerking forward from the force, but I can’t collapse—not yet. The rough hay scratches against my palms, my fingers digging into the dirt as I fight to stay on all fours. I fight against the nausea, swallowing hard, but the bile rises again.

Colina moves to my side, no longer lingering behind me, but close enough that I can see her on the edge of my vision. Her lips curl into a wicked smirk, her eyes gleaming with something dark and twisted. She tilts her head, slow and deliberate, her eyes drinking in my helplessness, her presence pressing in on me like a suffocating shadow.

“Ye ken, some women just cannae hold their laudanum very well,” she murmurs, her voice lilting with cruel amusement. “Slippin’ it into yer tea was as easy as they said it would be.”

Colina’s laughter is sharp, cruel. She moves closer. “I ken about what ye do in the dark!” Whip!

The next strike sends me sprawling onto my side, my cheek pressed against the cold, unforgiving ground. My limbs are heavy, too slow to push myself back up.

“Sirr warned me. Said ye’d be beggin’ Finn to fill ye with his cock the moment ye got a chance!” Whip! My vision swims, my breath ragged. “How easy it is to get ye on yer back!” Whip! “Ye—” Whip! “Are nothing—” Whip! “But a worthless—” Whip! “Filthy, vexin’ whore!”

Colina lets out a breathless chuckle between strikes, drawing out each one as if she’s reluctant to let the moment end. She steps forward, slow and unhurried, then crouches beside me, her grin widening as she tilts her head, watching me struggle. The scent of blood and damp earth thickens in the air between us.

“Aye,” she murmurs, her voice almost tender, mockingly sweet. “Ye don’t look so special now, do ye?”