Chapter 11
Wolfe
Ijumped in front of Cillian and Niamh, brandishing my sword in front of the beast. The edge of the blade came close to one of the lithaguar necks, and it jumped back, the left head hissing while the middle one straightened its neck and reared back.
I raised my blade, anticipating its attack before it happened. I bent a knee so I was kneeling, then twisted my blade up and felt resistance, the blade cutting into the bird’s thin neck. Blood spattered over my head, fat red droplets staining the grass and dirt.
“I’m going to be sick,” Niamh said behind me, gagging as the bird’s head fell to the ground.
“It’s okay,” I heard Cillian say. “I’ll stand in front of you so you don’t have to see anything.”
The middle head lay on the ground, staring with its unblinking black eyes as the creature shrieked and leapt back, blood spurting from the severed neck in the middle, the other two heads squawking nonstop.
I jumped to my feet and stalked toward the bird, sword clutched tight as the royal guard streamed into the gardens, swords drawn, surrounding the beast.
“Get the prince,” Harriet yelled, charging toward the lithaguar.
Took them long enough.
I whirled around and sheathed my bloody sword, stalking toward Cillian and Niamh. Niamh stared with an open mouth while Cillian stood there, crossing his arms and looking annoyed with the entire situation.
He pointed at his green vest with brass buttons, which matched Niamh’s dress. “You got blood spatter on me.”
“Sorry I just saved your ass.” I grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the fighting, which was short-lived.
The lithaguar lifted into the air with a final ear-splitting shriek and flapped its wings, rising into the sky until it disappeared through the barrier protecting our city. The guards’ shoulders all drooped in relief.
I waved at Harriet to signal that I could take it from here, and we watched as the guards filed past us, their armor clinking as they walked through the archway and out of the garden.
Once they were gone, Niamh whirled. “We need to talk.” She jabbed Cillian in the chest, her finger pressing next to the spot of blood. “No more excuses. No more waiting. No more ‘slowly’ revealing information. I want to hear everything you have to say. Now.”
Cillian cleared his throat. “Are you sure you don’t want to wait? You’re looking a little pale.” He put a hand on her arm. “And you’re trembling. Maybe we could do this later over tea and biscuits—”
“The magic is weakening.” I cut my brother off, staring at Niamh. “The castle chose Cillian as its high prince five years ago but never chose a queen. Cillian has tried to find his own, but the castle hasn’t . . . accepted them.”
Niamh stilled at that, gaze bouncing between my brother and me. “What does that mean?”
“You asked about the key tattooed on his skin.” I pointed to Cillian’s neck, where his key was tattooed. “Once the key appears, it means the castle has accepted you.”
She wrinkled her nose. “And what happens if the key doesn’t appear?”
Cillian shot me a warning look, but I was sick of the secrecy, sick of keeping things from Niamh that she needed to know. She wasn’t a damn child. She was a grown woman, and Cillian needed to stop treating her like she was a frail piece of glass that might shatter if he revealed too much.
“Then you disappear,” I said firmly.
She swallowed thickly. “That sounds ominous.”
“You don’t die, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Cillian said. “You just disappear from here.” He put his hands in front of him. “And reappear out there.” He shifted his hands.
Niamh squeezed her eyes shut, jaw locking. “I knew it was too good to be true. I knew there was no way I just found a magical castle where I get to be queen and live happily ever after.” I snorted, and her gaze, full of ire, snapped to me. “Is something about that funny?” she asked.
“Do not answer that,” Cillian murmured in my ear.
My hands curled into fists as I thought about my own life, the turns it had taken, the brother I would never get back.
I once thought happily ever after existed too.
Maybe not in those exact words, but I’d been in some bubble, thinking nothing bad would ever happen to those I loved.
It had been na?ve, and Niamh was being na?ve as well, reminding me far too much of my past self, a past self I hated now for how unprepared he’d been.
“Happily ever after doesn’t exist. The sooner you realize that, the less disappointed you’ll be when things don’t work out the way you’d hoped.
The best you can do for yourself is prepare. Not cower.”
She let out a frustrated yell and threw up her hands. “You’re impossible. This is impossible. Why did I come here? Why did you rip me from my tower for a place that might not even want me?”
She turned her back to us, shoulders shaking. As Cillian reached out to put a hesitant hand on her shoulder, a giggle burst from her. He snatched his hand back, shooting me a questioning look, and I just shrugged as Niamh doubled over in laughter.
“I told you not to answer,” Cillian said out of the side of his mouth.
Niamh turned, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“The irony of it all,” she said through gasps.
“I had everything I ever wanted in that tower, then you came and destroyed it and told me about this magical castle, and it was actually real. This place actually exists and is even better than my tower, but it doesn’t matter, because any day now, it could just disappear me.
Decide I’m not worthy enough to get the golden key. ”
Cillian raised a finger. “You actually have some time.”
She started pacing, laughter now gone. “I would’ve been better off going my own way. Instead I got my hopes up. I believed everything would be okay. I started dreaming of a life here.” She turned to Cillian. “I actually thought it might not be so bad to marry you.”
Cillian shot her a dazzling smile, and she glared at him in response.
“I’m a fool. A complete and utter fool. And now I have to break this news to Morton, and he’s going to tell me—”
I grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a shake. “You can make the castle accept you.”
Her eyes widened, and her mouth snapped shut. She opened her mouth a few times before she finally got words out. “Make it accept me?” Her gaze shifted to Cillian for confirmation, and he gave a curt nod.
She swallowed thickly. “How do I do that?”
Cillian shot her his winningest smile, the smile he used when he was delivering bad news but trying to make it sound good. “That’s the fun part of this all. No one knows.”
She stared unblinking for a moment. “Then how do I get it to accept me?”
“Think of it like a game,” Cillian said, “where you get to explore the castle, let it get to know you while you get to know it, and you get to have fun in the process.”
“Fun?” she screeched, and Cillian winced.
The flowers behind him jolted, then hissed their displeasure.
Niamh took a deep breath but sent Cillian a scathing look.
“You think it’ll be fun for me to be here, falling more in love with this magical little paradise day after day while, at any moment, I might just”—she flailed her hands in the air, and a tree branch that hung over her head lifted to avoid getting hit—“poof. Disappear.”
“You might not disappear.” Cillian raised a finger. “And you’ll get to see my handsome face every day.”
Niamh let out a frustrated groan and faced my brother, fire sparking in her eyes that I liked seeing. All Niamh had shown so far was fear, but I saw the courage in her as she stood up for herself.
Cillian’s eyes widened in shock. “I can go with you to explore if you’re worried.”
“Of course I’m worried.” She threw up her arms.
“No,” I said, and both of them turned to me. “She needs to do this on her own. If you go with her, the castle can’t get to know her. It’ll be catering to you, its high prince.”
“How much time do I have?” Niamh asked, straightening, looking regal. Looking like a future queen.
“Six weeks,” Cillian said. “That’s when all my previous brides have disappeared. Six weeks.”
“Well, I better get going,” Niamh grumbled. She began to walk through the garden, and all the plants straightened and bent backward to get out of her way.
Cillian reached out and grabbed her arm. “So dinner tonight?” He waggled his eyebrows. “In my private quarters?”
Niamh glared at him. “I think I’ll get my own dinner.”
“You can’t stay mad at me forever,” Cillian said.
“But I can try.” She turned and stalked away, leaving me alone with my younger brother.
“I like her,” Cillian said, watching Niamh zigzag through the garden and toward the castle.
Of course he did. She was bubbly and bright and unaware, just like him. “If only she liked you back.”
“Is that a challenge?” Cillian turned to me.
“No,” I said flatly. “She’s been through enough already. No need to make her another conquest.”
Cillian pressed his hands to his chest. “You wound me. I haven’t been a playboy since I became high prince.”
“Just . . . keep getting to know her. And let her get to know the real you.”
He rolled his eyes. “I am letting her get to know the real me.”
“No, you’re letting her get to know Prince Charming. She doesn’t need a facade. She needs something real.”
Cillian tilted his head and stared at me for so long I began shifting from foot to foot.
“What?” I snapped.
“Nothing,” he said. “Nothing at all. Well, I must be going now.” He spun on his heel, striding away.
“Where?” I called.
“To come up with a plan to woo my bride,” he called over his shoulder.