Chapter 3
Niamh
Dust burned my nose, filling my nostrils until it was all I could smell and taste, until it brimmed in my lungs and came out in a hacking cough.
My eyes shot open, and I stared into the face of a large, bearded man, his eyes so dark they were almost black, reminding me of the soil I used to dig in to plant Ashami’s favorite flowers.
I looked down, realizing I was cuddled into his chest, cradled by his thick arms. I let out a strangled scream and pushed myself out of his grasp, falling straight onto my butt, a cloud of grey dust poofing around me.
“Get up,” he barked.
“Who are you?” My skin prickled as I looked around, not recognizing our surroundings. Terror seized me, along with a growing sense of foreboding.
No stairs. No bookshelves. No comfy armchair.
I wasn’t in the tower anymore. The tower was .
. . it was . . . Just like that, all my memories came crashing down: the loud noises, the jolting, the rumbling, and then the falling.
I stared at the mountain of a man in front of me, wondering if he was part of the brotherhood.
The same brotherhood who’d destroyed my entire life.
But he wasn’t wearing their telltale maroon cloak or white mask.
I’d never seen a brotherhood member without their trademark garb.
“I said get up,” he gritted out. “We need to move.”
My heart leapt to my throat. This all had to be a misunderstanding or a terrible dream. That was it. I was dreaming. I just had to see my tower. I’d see it and wake up and I’d be safely in my armchair as Morton scolded me for dozing off.
I scrambled to my feet and barreled past the man, shoving him out of the way and running to the top of a hill.
I shielded my eyes from the glare of the sun and squinted, the sight leaving me wrecked.
My entire body crumpled as I laid eyes on nothing but rubble and dust down below.
So much dust, which was what I must’ve smelled, what must’ve awoken me.
I lifted my thick red hair, now coated in the remains of my tower, and sobs racked my body as I wrapped my arms around my stomach, trying to hold myself together, as if the tighter I squeezed, the more I could contain these emotions pouring from me.
I cried harder at the splinters of wood peeking through the wreckage, at the glass shining brilliantly under the sun. At the torn papers, all those books I’d lost myself in . . . gone. Just . . . gone.
A hand grabbed my arm and wrenched me up so that I came face-to-face with the man, his thick eyebrows scrunching over his large nose. “What did you do?” I cried, wanting to throttle him.
“What did I do?” he asked slowly, like he didn’t understand.
I pawed at my tears. “To my tower!”
“Your tower?” he asked again.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, head pounding both from this conversation and from the reality that my protector was gone.
I’d never survive out here alone. I couldn’t protect myself. I never had been able to, always relying on others, others who sacrificed their lives for mine. “The tower I lived in.”
His bearded jaw worked back and forth. “We have to go. We’re wasting too much time.” His gaze flitted back and forth like he was expecting an attack at any moment, and panic replaced some of the sadness filling me. Did he know something I didn’t? Were we in danger this very moment?
I didn’t have time to ask before he spun around and marched back down the grassy hillside, dotted with rocks and boulders. It crested downward and then swooped back upward into more hills as far as the eye could see. If I weren’t so distraught, I might have actually thought it was rather beautiful.
“Am I supposed to follow you?” I yelled after him with a shaky voice.
He didn’t even respond. Just continued tromping his way along the dusty road. Morton would have a lot of say about this, and it had just occurred to me that the little bookwyrm wasn’t sitting on my shoulder like normal. I’d been in such a panic, I hadn’t even thought about my best friend.
I looked back at the carnage far below, my stomach dropping to the ground as I imagined Morton under all that rubble. He’d been tucked into my book when the tower started to crumble, and the only person who might know where my book was would be . . .
I bolted after the man. “Wait! Please, wait!”
He stopped, not bothering to turn around, his shoulders bunching up to his ears.
“My book. Was there a book when you rescued me? A-a blue book. Or, no, was it green? Oh, I can’t remember, but—”
He turned, reaching into his black cloak and pulling out my book, and I prayed to the ancient godwitches that Morton was nestled safely inside. “You mean this? You were clutching it for dear life when I rescued you.”
I let out a strangled noise and snatched it from his massive hand, opening it. All the tension bled from me when I saw the little pink bookwyrm lying in the crevice.
“Well, you’ve certainly done it now,” Morton said, glaring up at me. “I know I said we’d have to leave the tower one day, but I didn’t mean so dramatically. And how in the world did it all come crumbling down like that?”
“Why do you assume that was my fault?” I asked, then turned the book to face the man, who stared at Morton in wonder, his dark crescent-shaped eyes taking in my little bookwyrm.
He loomed over us, and even under his black cloak, I could see the bulging muscles in his arms, his thick thighs underneath those leather-plaited pants. Despite the cool air, sweat dotted his pale, ruddy skin, making it glisten as he frowned at us.
I jabbed a finger at the man, wishing I could take that sword hanging by his side and shove it right through him. “He destroyed the tower.”
“I rescued you,” the man said through gritted teeth, then pushed past me and kept walking.
He was doing that a lot. Declaring things and then just walking away like it wasn’t a big deal that my entire life had just fallen apart. I had nowhere to go now, for the second time in my life.
Last time Morton and I had lost our home, we’d fled and gotten lucky to stumble upon that magical tower. I wouldn’t get so lucky again.
Oh, godwitches. I might actually be sick. I had no idea how I’d get out of this situation. I had no plan.
I swallowed back the bile rising in my throat.
I’d starve to death out here alone. Or get eaten by some magical, terrifying creature.
Or I’d stumble across some member of the brotherhood and they’d either take me captive or kill me.
There were so many ways to die out here, and right now, I was thinking about every single one.
The man continued walking, and I trailed after him, not knowing what else to do. It made me feel so pathetic and helpless, but if we were attacked right now, he’d surely protect us. He wouldn’t have taken me from a tower just to let me die.
At the bottom of the hill, a cluster of rocks encircled a few rucksacks, and another man stood, this one wearing a red cloak, his hands and arms covered in deep cuts, visible through the rips in his silken gold shirt.
He glanced up and smiled, already seeming so much friendlier than his companion. “Ah, I see you’re already making friends, Wolfe,” he told the other man, his voice airy and jovial, making some of that tightness in my chest loosen.
“What is going on?” Morton asked, slithering up my arm as I snapped the book closed.
“That’s what I would like to know.” I came to a stop outside the cluster of rocks as both men turned to face me, the hulking man glaring while the other one smiled gently.
The bigger man shoved a hand through his thick mop of brown hair, disheveled and tousled. “You were trapped in a tower. We rescued you from the tower. You’re coming home with us.”
“What?” That made no sense, and that word, home, struck me right in the heart. I had no idea where their home was, why they wanted me, or if it was a dangerous place.
Morton blinked a few times as he processed Wolfe’s words.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” The other man stepped forward, holding out an arm across his companion’s broad chest. “Why don’t we sit?
Can I offer you some hard, stale bread?” He gestured to one of the leather sacks.
“Some stinky cheese? Smells terrible but tastes great. How about some water?” He leaned down and grabbed a canteen, holding it out to me.
I crossed my arms. I might’ve been desperate for help navigating this situation, but I also wasn’t an idiot.
I couldn’t trust total strangers if they weren’t willing to provide any information about where they’d come from, why they’d rescued me, or what they wanted with me.
The only thing keeping me here was my complete fear at running away and being alone and helpless.
I tried to summon an air of authority. “What I want is answers, and someone better give them to me.”
The nicer man heaved a sigh and looked at the other one. “You know, manners and hospitality could get us a long way.” He looked back at me. “Hi, I’m Cillian Wolfgang, and this here is Wolfe.”
“I’m Niamh,” I said. “Why did you come to my tower? How did you even find it? And what do you mean I’m coming with you? I don’t want to come with you. I want to go back into my tower.”
“Good luck with that,” Wolfe said, earning a glare from Cillian.
“Let’s all sit, shall we?” Cillian said, gesturing to the ground.
I eyed them warily but sat down, fluffing out my blue skirt so it flowed around me as I settled, legs tucked under my bottom. “Well?” I asked, and the two men looked at each other.
“We told you,” Wolfe said in his gruff, curt voice, “we want you to come back to our castle with us.”
“But why?” I asked, studying the pair. I hadn’t interacted with actual people in over three years, and it was a strange, out-of-body experience.
If it had been under better circumstances, I might have been delighted to be able to have a conversation, to learn their stories, but given what had happened to my tower, I couldn’t muster anything other than a wary curiosity.