Fluttering Cruelty

Fluttering Duology: book 1 –––––––– Ripley Sinclair Copyright © 2023 by Ripley Sinclair Published 2023 by Sinclair Books All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Cover design by David Gardias—bestselling-covers.com Proofreading by Louise Morris Editing by Lyss Em—lyssemediting.com ISBN: 979-8-8152-7259-0 Table of Contents Title Page Copyright Page Fluttering Cruelty Pronunciation Guide Content warning Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Acknowledgments Fluttering Delight excerpt Chapter 1 | Saoirse Consider leaving a review on Amazon or Goodreads Social Media Pronunciation Guide Saoirse — pronounced “seersha” Eire — pronounced “er-a” Aoife — pronounced “ee-fa” Roisin — pronounced “ro-sheen” Tadhg — pronounced “tige” Maebh — pronounced “mave” Deirdre — pronounced “deer-drah” Feargal — pronounced “ferr-gal” Daithi — pronounced “da-hee” Cian — pronounced “kee-an” Maira — pronounced “may-ra” Imogen — pronounced “ihm-eh-jen” Lugh — pronounced “loo” Rian — pronounced “ree-uhn” Glossary mantle — about ankle-length long, heavy woollen cloak of semi-circular shape with no sleeves and fasteners resembling a large blanket with a colorful fringe that is wrapped around the shoulders (sometimes with a cape) kirtle — a simple, practical main dress garment, typically worn over a chemise or as an outer petticoat leine — an ankle length linen shirt, usually saffron dyed yellow, usually bloused over a belt with a wide sleeves Imbolg — the festival marking the beginning of Spring, taking place at the midpoint between the Winter Solstice and The Spring Equinox Content warning This book contains general mature, sexual, and adult topics; on-page spousal abuse (side characters); mild gore; implied sexual assault; suicidal ideations; parental death; and mentions of child loss. Use your discretion if you are sensitive to any of these. Chapter 1 “No matter what...promise we’ll find each other. Promise you won’t stop searching for me.” “You know I will, Jun. I-I don’t care how many of them stand between us. I’ll find you, and we will be free, no matter what.” Juniper smiled. “That’s right. I know you won’t let anyone stop you, little sister. We’ll flee past the Dorch Ocean and leave all this behind. The Rive, the Vrani—their control and their tyrannical laws. I’ll be waiting. I love you.” It is almost poetic how her words echo in my head at this very moment. As the anxious whispers of the women around me blend into chaotic chatter, I keep my breath controlled, and thoughts even more so. The quartering will begin any second now. I must be ready. No more distractions, Saoirse. Constricted in the richly embroidered dress like a piece of prized meat, I shiver. How long will they keep us waiting? As if it isn’t enough that we stand adorned and ready for the taking on the small, cobbled square in the middle of our village like some luscious bait. I sense distant gazes on us. Hidden inside their houses, people peer out to witness this sad spectacle. Some surely pray for their daughters to return; others are thanking the gods it is not them or their family members standing in our place. Though the general sense of fear in the air is wholly expected and doesn’t bother me much, seeing some of the girls’ excitement makes me want to vomit. I know most of them, by a glance, at least. After all, every young, childless woman of age from our village is here. I’m glad to not be close to any of them. The anguish of seeing a person one holds dear ripped away by one of those monsters...I never want to experience it again. Juniper’s desperate gaze is still burned into my mind as she sat next to me with her hands clasping mine that day. Somehow, she knew she was the one to go. Her trepidation was just. But these girls...how hard must it have been for them to convince themselves they would gain something by being chosen? Is it the chance to behold the majestic city of Haren that helps them see it in a better light? Do they truly think that after gaining shadow magic, they could finally secure some sliver of any real power girls like us could ever have in this world? The price to be paid for it is hardly worth the sacrifice. They will become nothing more than commodities. Tools in the hands of the Vrani. Their useful breeding dolls, forever cut off from any normality of life. “Here they come, everyone!” the elder overlooking us shouts while I and the rest dart our eyes toward the overcast sky. I know what that woman’s role is. Her mere presence is there to remind the less willing participants who might buckle under the mounting pressure that attempting to run is not an option lest we want to break the pact, dooming the entire village to ostracism and, eventually, death. Her long life is a testament to the security we are provided against the rivespawn, all thanks to the pact. A life the ones who don’t get chosen today might have in the future. We all search for the large, winged figures, and as the dark clouds shift, I finally notice movement. Three of them emerge from the fog clouding the sun, flying toward us at an astonishing speed. We are hastily rushed into a straight line, arranged by our ages from youngest to oldest. Most