Chapter 31
31
H er eyes began to blur, and she saw double the samples of fabric in front of her. The colorful swatches shifted together into a single rainbow kaleidoscope, and Aven stopped, scrubbing her eyes until they burned.
Oof . How many hours had they been working in this claustrophobic room? Servants and palace aides brought in an endless parade of fabrics, flowers, cake samples, you name it. Her throat went dry, and a dull ache pounded between her temples. If she stopped, though, she’d never get back into it. She’d crawl under her covers and refuse to pry them away from her face to face the day.
“Hey, now. We can’t have you working yourself to death here.” Cillian’s fingers kneaded her shoulders and found a tight knot, working at it until her muscles smoothed out and Aven groaned. “Let’s take a break.”
“I don’t need a break. We need to nail down the color scheme of the banners so they can be cut and sewn.” She only repeated what he’d said the day before.
“The banners will wait,” Cillian insisted. “The options are basically the same anyway, and honestly, if we get married without banners, it will be no great loss for me.” He grasped her forearms and physically hauled her out of her chair so quickly she felt the bottom drop out of her.
“What are you doing!”
“I’m taking you away.” He held her hand, ignoring the others in the room who clucked together in a fuss about their departure.
The details were killing her.
Cillian hadn’t said anything, but she guessed they were killing him as well; only he handled the pressure with more grace and civility than she did. The wedding was getting close, and sadness set in.
Once it got its claws into her, the feeling refused to leave.
It made even the most menial task much harder than it needed to be.
“You’re stressed. Talk to me. If you don’t, I won’t know how to fix it,” Cillian said.
“There’s no way for you to fix everything. It’s not your responsibility,” she replied.
He laughed at her. “On the contrary. You are my responsibility.”
She wanted to believe him, bless his innocent heart, yet somehow found a wall between them. His words fell against it uselessly without even the smallest crack. “My family should be here for this. My sisters and my brothers,” she told him. “I never wanted to get married, but here we are. And I’m doing it alone. I have no friends here, no family…”
To be fair, she hadn’t had any friends at home, either.
Cillian tightened his grip on her hands, and within minutes, they walked through the gardens with a cadre of guards at their backs. The human protesters had been taken care of, and nothing else stepped out of the shadows to attack them.
They weren’t willing to take any chances.
“Of course they should be here. You deserve to have their support. I’m sorry you’re feeling the weight.”
“It just makes me want to cry, if I’m being honest. I’m not a crier.”
Cillian maintained a brutally fast pace, which didn’t bother her. Not when his hand felt right in hers and they moved with purpose. “What would you say if we brought you a visitor? The first of many, I’m sure, but a very special visitor. You can meet in the library and have several hours at your disposal.”
“You make it sound like you’re doing me a favor. Who would even come to see me?” she pressed him.
“Then consider it a surprise instead. It’s one you are going to love, trust me.”
He seemed to be under the impression she really loved surprises, but all her life, Aven felt the only good surprises were the ones she saw coming. Which didn’t make them surprises at all. Her skin tingled, too stiff for her liking, and something small and deadly lived in her stomach.
Today, Nora had chosen a flowing gown of chiffon and lace. Bell sleeves flowed down to her waist, and the print harkened to spring flowers in shades of ivory and yellow. The waist tapered down into a point and drew the attention down to the flowing skirt, brushing the floor with every step. She’d never have the grace of the fae, and she’d never stop feeling clunky and clumsy in comparison.
He must have read into the expression on her face. Cillian only chuckled.
“Please, tell me.” She injected a bit of demand into her voice. “Who would you bring here?”
“Your father.”
She stopped in the center of the forest path. “You would bring him here? After all the trouble he caused?”
“I’d do it for you,” he assured her. “Because you want to see him and you need the connection.”
“He’s not a good person. You were worried about a group of peasants protesting. Do you know the kind of army he might bring with him?” She’d written the letter, and Cillian agreed to send it because it seemed the safest option, and she agreed.
Her heart cried out to see her father, her only surviving family member, to have him hold her and assure her things were going to be all right. But the danger he presented and the things he’d already done did not instill her with any sort of confidence. Not to mention she wasn’t sure how either of them would react.
“This isn’t a good idea,” she finished.
Cillian hugged her in the comforting way only time allowed to flourish. Aven clung to him.
“I think it’s an exceptional idea. If it would make you happy and give you a much-needed break from all of the stressors, then consider it already done. Or do you not think our men are up to the task of protecting us?”
“You’re inviting your enemy into your palace,” she argued.
“I’ve already done so, and look how it turned out.” He pressed a light sweet kiss to the top of her head. “You’re a risk taker. It’s part of your makeup. Even if you consider this a risk, why dig in your heels?”
She hated to think of herself as his enemy, but once upon a time, she had been. She would have stopped at nothing to see them all dead with her blade slashed across their throats. Now she had Cillian’s ring on her finger, and their wedding was less than a week away.
“I’m sure it will take time to reach him and convince him to come, but this is the offer I make to you. I’ll retrieve him myself if it will help put your mind at ease.”
At ease? No, there was no calming her mind.
A twig snapped somewhere in the garden, and Aven whirled around, the sensation of being watched a physical caress on the back of her neck. Roran was out there lurking somewhere, she swore it.
He was always there.
Eavesdropping on every word they said and no doubt picking up on what she kept to herself. Would he have made the same offer as Cillian? To retrieve her father and bring him here only to give her a measure of peace?
No, absolutely not.
“I think it’s very sweet of you to do, but it’s just one more thing to add to our growing list of responsibilities.”
“I care about you, Aven.” Cillian tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and his fingertips lingered on her chin, warmed by the sun. “I’ll do this if you want. I get it, the wedding prep is overwhelming. If you need this to prove I care, then I won’t hesitate.”
She dipped her head in acknowledgment. “I’d appreciate it.”
Being allowed to see her father after such a long absence meant the world to her. This time when Cillian kissed her, whatever audience they may or may not have had faded into the scenery. It was only the two of them and his kindness, his thoughtfulness.
For the first time today, she felt like something shifted between them, and he’d shown her a little bit of the emotional vulnerability she’d craved. It was only right for her to do the same for him in return.
“I’d really like it,” she murmured against his mouth.
“Then it’s done,” he whispered back.
This strong fae male handled her like she was something precious who deserved good things. For the first time in a long time, Aven might actually be able to allow herself to believe it, too.
The day finally came. Cillian returned to the palace with his visitor in tow that morning and promptly sent word for her to get dressed and be ready. They didn’t have a lot of time before they’d leave again; this visit was a short one. King Fergus was not staying for the ceremony.
Not only had the invitation not been extended, but he’d painfully let everyone know on the ride here that he had no intention of remaining for longer than necessary.
Cillian stared straight ahead and hustled her down the stairs until Aven felt like she might burst. His mirth shifted into something somber on their approach to the library, and he paused, lifting both her hands to his mouth and kissing her knuckles, his blue eyes boring into hers.
“If you get into a brawl, I’ll have the guards standing by. Your visitor brought his own, and yet I don’t trust them to be adequate if a situation should arise,” he told her.
Aven arched a brow. “What do you mean, a brawl?” Why would Cillian expect her to lose her cool with her father? “I’m perfectly capable of controlling myself, thank you very much.”
“Even so. I wouldn’t blame you if you did. These last few days spent with him have been nothing but a hassle. He’s… an acquired taste.”
“Putting it nicely.”
Kids dreamed of a father who would make them feel seen and valued. Hers had valued her but only for what she might bring to him. They’d been unable to refute what his eyes saw when it came to her prowess leading men.
Still, he was her father. And she had no one left. Nothing except the man inside the room and separated from her by only a single wooden door.
She stared over Cillian’s shoulder at the knob like it might somehow shift into a snake and bite her.
“Go on. It’s going to be fine,” he assured her.
True to his word, Cillian employed many more guards than he’d ever had at her disposal before. She counted five at the entrance to the library and surely would see more at the doors leading out into the courtyard. Her own mental defenses high and her skin tingling, she walked into the room alone.
Her eyes went wide at the sight of her father standing in front of the long table.
He’d lost weight since the last time she saw him. A haggardness pressed down on him that hadn’t been there before, and the bags under his eyes went deep, sagging all the way down to his cheeks. His hair held many more white strands as well, and they stood out in stark contrast to the darkness she was used to seeing.
He didn’t hold his arms out for her, and she didn’t race toward him.
Shock kept them both rooted in place, and they stared at each other for a long moment. Her spine straight and her feet glued to the floor, insides tumbling together sickeningly.
“I hear you’ve been quite busy with this wedding,” King Fergus said at last.
She jolted at the sound of his voice and the rough timbre she’d heard her entire life. Aven cleared her throat. “The wedding prep is a lot for me. I get to take breaks at times.” Oh god, she was babbling. “Cillian steals me away for breaks sometimes as well.” To kiss, hold hands…
Her father nodded along with her, although his shaggy brows were a harsh line mimicked by his mouth. Why did it feel like she had no clue where to start with him? There was plenty to say. Too many things, in fact, and she’d been building up entire conversations in her head since she’d heard the truth.
“What are you doing here?”
“What, you didn’t think I’d be allowed over the threshold of your new home?” He spat out the word like something dirty.
“Or perhaps I thought you would be too busy trying to rebuild Grimrose without the help of your children to be able to take a break.” Antagonizing him wasn’t going to help either one of them make it through this slightly awkward situation.
But the fact that Cillian allowed her to see her father pre-wedding might be a sign that he actually loves her. She clung to the thought and wrapped it around herself like a comforting warmth. Focusing on the feeling rather than the strangeness.