Chapter 10
Niamh
Cillian and I sat in the castle gardens, the sky a light blue with puffy white clouds dotting the expanse.
The white-stone castle rose up beside the little garden, which was full of plots of flowers, bushes, and trees, with stone benches dotting a pathway.
Cillian had picked a bench shoved between two lemon trees for us to sit.
Sweat trickled between my breasts, and I fanned myself.
I’d tried to distract myself on my walk with Wolfe, but my thoughts kept returning to the most sinister outcomes, and no matter how hard I tried to keep myself from spiraling, my brain wouldn’t let this sacrificial brides idea go.
I’d read a story about that once. About a king who lured women to his bed so he could sacrifice them to his manor, their blood keeping its magic alive.
I’d thought about running, but I was almost certain Wolfe could catch me.
I’d never been very fast. Plus, where would I run to?
Also, I couldn’t leave Morton behind. What if they sacrificed him too?
My stomach lurched at the thought of being killed. Was it going to happen now? Was this some sick ritual they’d done with all his other brides? I chewed on the end of a strand of hair, envisioning a graveyard full of bones, mine soon to join.
I gestured to the blooming garden, bursting with color and variety. “Is that how you make this garden grow? With the blood of your bride sacrifices?”
His perfectly symmetrical face melted into horror. “Bride . . . sacrifices?”
“Well, that’s what Nevan said.”
“Nevan told you I’ve sacrificed my brides?” His mouth twisted. “When did you meet Nevan?”
“So you have had multiple brides?” I asked, feeling triumphant in at least getting him to admit that.
His mouth went ajar, then he snapped it shut. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find any of this out, but it seems my brothers don’t know how to keep their mouths shut.”
“Can you explain literally anything to me?” I gestured wildly, almost hitting Cillian in the face.
He dodged my gesticulating hand. “Yes, yes, I can.”
“I’m not the first woman you’ve married?”
He scrubbed a hand down his face, suddenly looking so very tired, and I felt a little sorry for him. Not enough to back down, though. He owed me some answers.
“You just seemed . . . fragile, and I didn’t want to overwhelm you with everything all at once.”
I winced. Cillian had only known me for five days, and even he saw me as weak, as incapable of handling the truth.
Whatever that was. To be fair, if the truth involved sacrificing, I didn’t think anyone would handle that well.
But still, his answer stung, that word—fragile—like a sharp pin digging into my heart.
“Are you all right?” Cillian asked. “I didn’t mean to keep anything from you.”
I didn’t want to admit this particular truth, the one that would confirm his observations about me, so instead, I veered the conversation toward an easier truth.
“I can understand that,” I said slowly. “I was a lady’s maid to the Princess of Bergenay, and she often had a lot of hard choices to make.
” Ashami had always come to me with her problems, afraid of revealing too much or too little to her people, especially when the brotherhood began their attacks.
She hadn’t known if telling everyone the full truth would frighten them to the point that our society would collapse or if it would rally them to act, to fight.
In the end, she’d convinced the queen and king that the truth was the better route to go.
“Bergenay.” Cillian tapped his chin, so chiseled and strong. It was truly remarkable how attractive he was. “The kingdom that was destroyed by the brotherhood?”
I looked away but couldn’t stop the surge of memories that flooded me: flames, screams, Ashami yelling “run” as the brotherhood captured her. My chest tightened, and I massaged it, some of the tightness loosening.
“Sorry,” Cillian said. “We don’t need to talk about that. I—Well, I’m sorry.”
“We had a magical river,” I said quietly.
“It healed injuries, could revive dying plants or crops, could even make our seeds stronger so they were able to grow faster, endure harsher weather. That river was the life of our city, and the brotherhood wanted it for themselves. They attacked in the middle of the night, and we weren’t prepared.
They killed everyone in the castle.” My voice shook.
“They conquered Bergenay, putting their henchmen in charge. Last I heard, they’re now charging anyone who lives in the city to use the river. ”
He nodded, face solemn for once. “I’m so sorry that happened.”
I tried to focus on what he was saying, but my heart was beating fast, my vision going hazy, my lungs squeezing tighter despite how hard I was massaging.
“Are you all right, Niamh?” Cillian put a hand on my shoulder. “You’re looking pale. Well, paler than usual, and your pupils are huge. Are you getting ill? Maybe I should take you to Nevan.”
“No.” My voice was tight as I tried to squeeze air out. “It’ll pass.” I bent over, the rushing of blood making me feel woozy. “This . . . happens sometimes. When I talk about . . .”
“Right. We don’t need to talk about it anymore. We don’t need to talk about any of it. What can I do?”
I squeezed my eyes shut tight, hating that this was happening in front of the high prince, the man who wanted to make me queen. “Nothing. Just leave me be, and I’ll . . . manage.”
My chest ached, my heart pounding so hard I felt it in every part of my body.
Something brushed against my shoulder, and I jumped, realizing it was a branch from the tree above us.
It leaned down over me, half a lemon curled in its grasp.
It shoved the lemon right under my nose.
At first I recoiled, but then I took a deep inhale of the lemony scent.
“No, bad tree.” Cillian shook a finger at it. “Leave her alone.”
I inhaled again, the scent sharp and sour, reminding me of when Ashami and I used to make silly bets, and whoever lost would have to take a bite of a lemon. We delighted in making each do absolutely disgusting things.
I let out a weak laugh, feeling shaky and exhausted, but my chest loosened, breath coming more freely. “I think it’s helping me.” I took the lemon from the branch, and the tree straightened again as I smelled it, the scent fresh and clean.
“This place really is magic,” I murmured, turning the lemon over in my hand, noticing its bright yellow color, the rind rough against my palm, some juice dribbling down my wrist.
“You’re lucky your kingdom is hidden.” I turned to Cillian. “That’s very useful magic to have.”
He scratched the back of his neck. “It is. That’s why I need you, but there is more I haven’t told you. I don’t want to overwhelm you after . . .” He gestured at me, and my cheeks flushed. Fragile. “There’s a lot you need to know, but I think it would be better if we waited until you’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” I insisted, setting the lemon down, determined to see this through. “I have a right to know what kind of trouble Morton and I might be in, what I’d be getting into as queen—”
I didn’t have time to finish my sentence. Right then, a bird materialized out of thin air, three heads on its body, all of them snapping and squawking as it flapped its wings, its long black talons glinting in the sun.
“Niamh, we have to run.” Cillian grabbed my arm and yanked me to a stand.
The lithaguar. That same creature had come to Bergenay. It had been the first sign we were under attack. Cillian pulled me to my feet, and we stumbled backward, my heart pounding.
The lithaguar locked its gaze on us, then veered downward, right in our direction.
“Fuck me,” Cillian said and shoved me behind him.
Cillian reached into his black boot and pulled out a dagger.
“You’re the high prince.” I shoved in front of him. “Are you crazy? I should be protecting you!”
Protecting him in the way I hadn’t protected Ashami. The lithaguar flapped its wings harder, nearing us. Cillian grabbed me around the waist and heaved me behind him again.
“Will you stop doing that?” I hissed. “You’re being an idiot.”
He flashed me a smile over his shoulder. “But a valiant one.” He paused. “Who has good hair.”
I reached for his dagger. The creature was almost upon us, and I needed some kind of weapon to protect the high prince.
“Stop that,” Cillian said.
“No,” I said back. “Give me the dagger and let me protect you.” It was the least I could do. I wouldn’t let someone else die because of my cowardice, even though my hands shook violently as I attempted to wrench the dagger from him.
The three heads let out a horrid shriek that pierced the air and reverberated in my skull.
“I can protect myself and you,” Cillian said, wrenching the knife back toward his body. “You’re going to be my wife, so can you just let me be gallant and heroic?”
The lithaguar was now upon us, and I would not let this stupid prince’s ego get him killed. I had to think fast, wrenching his arm upward and twisting his wrist. He yelled, his face contorting in pain, and dropped the dagger. Our only weapon clanged against the pathway and skittered out of reach.
Oh, shit. That wasn’t supposed to happen.
“Ow, ow, ow,” Cillian yelled. “Why in the fuck did you do that?”
A massive shadow descended over us, and we fell silent, Cillian shielding me underneath his body.
“You fucking idiots,” someone said, and I’d never been more relieved in my life to hear Rafe Wolfgang’s voice.