Chapter 7
Wolfe
Cillian had disappeared again. He did this sometimes, and it infuriated me because it made doing my job next to impossible.
It didn’t help that the damn castle aided him, shifting stairs, hiding rooms, making doors disappear so that I would, in no uncertain terms, not find the high prince until he wanted to be found.
That didn’t mean I wouldn’t try, though, which was why I was currently stalking through the stone walls of the dungeons, checking in all the empty cells for the high prince.
These dungeons hadn’t been in use for years, not since Fairwitch Isle went into hiding after its magic began failing.
We’d managed to weed out most of the criminals, though that wasn’t to say we didn’t still have issues with certain citizens.
“On guard!” A full suit of armor stepped out in front of me, brandishing its sword.
“Not now, Arthur.”
He pointed his sword at my chest. “How dare you! It’s Sir Arthur. I am a knight of the seventh circle, protector of the godwitches—”
“Yes, Arthur, I’m aware.”
The knight didn’t have an actual body as far as we could tell.
He was just a suit of armor, presumably the armor that the actual Sir Arthur wore, and somehow the castle’s magic had brought it to life.
We’d found him in the dungeon, and that’s where he’d been as long as I’d known him, stalking up and down the cells, yelling at imaginary threats.
“I will die defending this castle!” Arthur lunged forward, and I stepped out of the way.
My fists clenched tighter. “I’m a guard too.”
“Liar!” Arthur said, spinning and bending his knees in a fighting stance. “You say that every time I see you.”
“That’s because it’s true.”
“Then where is your armor?” he asked, and I winced at the reminder that I didn’t have any, that I’d given it up.
He squinted at me. “And why is there a bruise on your neck?”
I slapped a palm against the bruised area where a damn chunk of stone had hit me, then winced as I remembered I’d also injured my hand fighting the tower, and it hurt like a motherfucker.
“I’m not an official guard,” I gritted out, ignoring the question about the bruise. “I’m the high prince’s personal bodyguard. That’s why I’m here, actually. Have you seen him?”
Arthur let out a strangled noise. “You lost the High Prince of Fairwitch?”
“More like he ran away from me.”
Arthur started pacing. “This is exactly why you cannot be trusted as a guard. In my day, I’d have never lost sight of a godwitch. You know, they called me—”
“The Beast,” I finished for him. “I know. You’ve told me.
” I stalked away from him and deeper into the dungeon, determined to find Cillian before he did something stupid like leave the town limits.
I wasn’t sure why he couldn’t just stay put and stay safe.
We’d gone to the trouble of rescuing Niamh, putting our lives in danger, all so he could “save” our city, yet he did things like this.
Put himself at risk, even though he knew I was trying my damndest to protect him.
“On guard!” Arthur’s voice echoed behind me, and I shook my head, wondering not for the first time what the real Sir Arthur had been like.
As I approached the heavy iron door that covered the tunnel, it opened without me lifting a finger. Then the tunnel began shifting upward and away from the town on the other side.
“No, dammit. Where are you taking me?” The tunnel groaned as it curved to the left, then upward, and a strong wind forced me forward. I tried to fight it, but there was no point fighting against the castle’s magic.
The wind blew harder, shoving me toward a solid, thick wall.
I dug my heels into the ground, trying to stop my forward momentum, then held out my hands and braced for impact right as the wall opened and I flew through it.
I turned to try and get back into the tunnel, but the stone wall closed behind me like there had never been an opening there at all.
I slammed my hand against the wall, crying out as I felt something pop in it. Fucking fuck. I really needed to remember I’d injured it.
“Oh, you finally came to see me. Took you long enough. Mother’s about had a fit, you know.”
I turned, realizing exactly where the tunnel had brought me: to the healer’s quarters.
My other younger brother, Nevan, stood in front of me, brown hair short, neat, and slicked to the sides, dimples pecking his cheeks as he smiled and pushed his round spectacles up his nose.
“I have something to treat that.” He nodded toward my neck and wound his way around the large counter covered in winding tubes, bubbling cups, and scattered papers.
He rifled through the papers, plucking one from the mess. “Ah, here we go.” He squinted through his glasses. “Uh-huh, uh-huh. Two large scoops of this,” he mumbled. “Four small scoops of that. Oh, interesting. I forgot that powder was useful in healing broken bones.”
I cleared my throat. Nevan might very well forget about me. He did that sometimes. Got so wrapped up in his work, he shut out the entire world.
Nevan dropped the paper back into the mess and glanced at my hand, which I was having trouble moving because every time I did, excruciating pain radiated up my arm.
“So why didn’t you come sooner?” He passed by a tube filled with a green liquid, and it belched, bubbling over the top and spilling out, the green juices splattering to the floor.
Nevan sidestepped it, not even batting an eye at the mess as he leaned down to study the tube. “Huh. Never seen that happen before.”
“To answer your question, I’ve been busy,” I said as he lifted my hand, studying it. “Cillian has gone on one of his excursions again.”
“I know.” Nevan turned and grabbed one of the many glass potion bottles scattered across the back counter. Some of them were empty, while others were filled with different colored liquids. “I sent him.”
My mouth dropped open. “You did what?”
He lifted the empty bottle and walked to the adjacent counter, using tongs to lift some flower petals out of a jar that he dropped into the vial.
“Mother and I knew if Cillian was out of the picture, then you couldn’t hover and you’d be forced to come see me, so we told him to get lost. Literally.
” He scooped a yellow powder into the bottle.
“I’m glad the castle helped you along. I figured it wouldn’t be until tomorrow that you finally gave in and came, which, of course, would mean your injuries were getting worse in the meantime while you suffered for absolutely no reason at all.
” He whirled around. “Not very practical.”
Whereas Cillian was all fun and games, Nevan was all work and no play. Some might even call him obsessed. He rarely left this part of the castle, always tinkering with new potions and alchemy.
I gritted my teeth. “You actually sent Cillian out of the castle without me by his side?”
Nevan turned and crossed his arms over his apron.
It was splattered with dots of blood that had me wondering who he’d already attended to this morning.
“He’s going to be fine, Wolfe. He’s a grown man.
He can take a walk in town without you by his side.
I think you forget that sometimes.” He paused. “Or you just don’t want to admit it.”
My younger brother annoyed me to no end with his observations that hit far too close to the truth.
He turned and added some blue liquid to the bottle, the mixture fizzing and turning a dark green. “You might as well sit,” he said over his shoulder. “You know the castle will just keep forcing you to come back until you get treatment.”
I huffed and sat on a wooden stool that sat beside a little stand full of metal tools, none of which looked particularly pleasant.
Nevan had become the healer in Fairwitch by default.
His interest lay in alchemy, in using the magic infused in the world to create powerful potions and new types of magic that could help people.
But he’d given up his dreams of studying at the University of Magic & Science to stay here and apprentice with the healer so he could take over when she retired.
He carried the sloshing liquid and a bowl of white powder and stopped in front of me.
I winced when he grabbed my wrist, and he tsked. “I don’t know how you expect to care for Cillian when you can’t even care for yourself.” He attempted to bend my wrist, and I sucked in a sharp breath.
“Funny, I don’t think I asked for your opinion,” I said dryly.
He just sighed and shook his head. “It would be great if you didn’t just stop by when you’re injured. Everyone would love to see you more, you know.”
I couldn’t, not when it was my fault Lor had died, when I was the reason for so much heartache in our family. Every time I saw anyone in my family, that guilt consumed me.
“Just fix my damn hand.”
Nevan studied my injury. “It’s not your hand. It’s your wrist. You’ve broken it, which means you’re in a tremendous amount of pain. I can’t believe you’ve just been walking around with a broken wrist—”
“Nevan,” I said, and he rolled his eyes, gently laying my hand on the little stand next to me.
He shook some of the white powder into a bowl, then used a glass dropper to add a few drops of the liquid. The mixture sizzled, lime green smoke rising into the air as Nevan grabbed a white bandage and smeared the paste on it.
“I’m going to wrap your wrist and hand. You’re to keep the bandage on for forty-eight hours.
Your wrist will start to feel better, but that doesn’t mean the bandage can come off.
Your bones need mending.” He began wrapping my wrist and hand while I sulked like a small boy who’d just gotten his candy taken away.
The door burst open, and we both turned to see Niamh standing there, eyes widened in shock. For a moment, my breath left my body.
The sunlight highlighted her wavy red hair, which hung down to her waist. Freckles dotted her pale skin.
Her green eyes were so light they almost looked otherworldly.
She was no longer wearing her blue dress but a moss green one that was cinched at the waist with a brown rope belt, the shoulders hanging around her biceps, exposing her collarbone.
On our journey, she’d been disheveled, her hair in knots, her skin covered in dust. None of us were at our best, but now that she’d bathed and was wearing new clothes, she looked luminous.
“Oh drat.” She planted her hands on her wide hips. “This isn’t where I was hoping to go.”
“I’ve never seen you before,” Nevan said, and I snapped my gaze away and back to my wrapped hand, scolding myself for staring. Niamh would probably take it to mean I wanted to be friends. She was that kind of person, I gathered. Wanted to be friends with everyone.
“I’m Niamh.” She eyed the cluttered room with interest and walked farther inside, reaching out toward a potted flower that was as tall as her, its wide yellow petals unfurling.
“Oh, I wouldn’t do that!” Nevan called out. “That one bites. But it’s very effective for catching gnats.”
Niamh snatched her hand back.
“Are you the town healer?” She guessed, studying the connected tubes sitting on the back counter, amber liquid running through them and into a funnel.
“I am.” Nevan shot me a curious look. “Who are you?”
“Oh!” Niamh put her hands to her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I got turned around and didn’t even think to introduce myself. Although Wolfe could tell you who I am.”
“So that was the mission that took you two away for a week?” Nevan looked at me. “Let me guess, you were on the hunt for yet another bride for Cillian, and now you’ve found her.”
I gave Nevan a warning look, but Niamh had stopped, the sunny smile melting from her face.
“Another bride?” she asked, then her gaze swiveled to me. “What does that mean?”
Nevan finished wrapping the bandage on my wrist. “Okay.” He clapped his hands together, clueless of the secret he’d just let slip.
“You’re done. Keep the bandage on. No fighting or dangerous stunts for at least two days, and then you should be back to all regular activity.
Niamh, it was so great to meet you, but I have another patient to see, so you’ll both have to be on your way. ”
I shot him a glare as he shooed us out of the healer’s quarters. At least I could finally find the high prince. Niamh sputtered as the door closed in our faces, and I spun on my heel and strode away, hoping she’d have the good sense not to follow.