Chapter 18
Niamh
Iwalked through the town of Fairwitch Isle with Wolfe by my side, shivering as a gust of wind blew past us.
I was always cold here, no matter how many layers I wore.
I glanced down at my fingers to see the tips turning blue and tugged at my worn sleeves, hoping Wolfe wouldn’t notice.
I didn’t need him to see my fingers and worry that something else was wrong with me, to give him another reason to not train me.
He’d already been so hard to convince, and I was out of stories to tell should he decide not to.
It had been a few weeks since the day in the library I’d accidentally had a fantasy about him, and I’d almost immediately decided that instead of avoiding Wolfe, I would be an adult and get past that intrusive thought.
I was thirty-five years old, and I had needs.
Needs that hadn’t been satisfied in a long time.
It was only natural I’d have thoughts like that, although I wished I’d had them about my betrothed and not his unhinged brother.
But the feelings for Cillian would come.
I’d had dinner with him almost every night, and I really loved getting to know him so far.
We were becoming friends, which was a great foundation for a relationship.
“You haven’t said a word in a full minute,” Wolfe said. “That’s a new record.”
My head snapped in his direction, and I glared at him, secretly happy about his comment because it reminded me of why that intrusive thought would never, ever happen.
Wolfe wasn’t capable of that kind of passion and tenderness and care.
He was a stone wall that I had yet to break, and I wasn’t even sure I wanted to.
“Have you ever been in a relationship?” The question popped out of my mouth before I could stop it. Why? Why did I just ask him that? It was such a personal question. Far too personal.
He surprised me when he said, “Yes. Not for a long time, but yes.”
I wasn’t expecting that. I couldn’t imagine Wolfe in a relationship with anyone, but now I had about a million follow-up questions. “What happened? How did it start? How did it end? Are you still friends?”
He rubbed his temples like I was giving him a headache. “It’s just been the one, and . . . we met in school.”
“School?” I asked. “Okay, so let me guess.” I tapped my chin as we passed a statue of one of the lesser demi godwitches.
From the flowers they were holding, I imagined they must’ve been related to earth, maybe a garden godwitch or something?
Passersby stopped, dropping little petals around their feet as an offering.
“You were partners on an assignment, and even though you’d never opened up to anyone in the past, the long nights working together in the library, studying with heads bent close, finally cracked that hard shell of yours. ”
He snorted, lips twitching, which was starting to become one of my favorite things to witness. “You read too many romance novels.”
I quirked a brow. “I was stuck in a tower for three years. I read all kinds of novels, all the time. What else was I to do?”
“Uh-huh, and the majority of them were romance. You just seem like the kind of person who believes in happily ever after, in true love and all that.”
He definitely wasn’t wrong, and it irked me that he already knew that about me.
“Who wouldn’t want to believe in that?” I argued. “Who wouldn’t enjoy a good romance book where the heroine meets a man, or another woman, who grovels for her, who shows her how much she’s loved and deserved? You wouldn’t enjoy that?”
He huffed, not answering my question. “It was in guard academy, in case you were wondering. We bonded over our love of battle strategy and fighting. We trained together often.”
So that was the type of woman he went for. Strong, a warrior like him. The opposite of me.
“Wait a minute.” My eyes bugged out. “Guard school as in the royal guard?” I asked. “You were part of the royal guard?”
No answer.
“How long were you together?” I asked with a laugh. Wolfe looked so positively grumpy it made me giddy.
“Seven years,” he said gravely.
“Seven years?” I shrieked, unable to believe Wolfe had been in an actual relationship, let alone for so long. A few people jumped nearby. “What happened after seven years?”
“Nothing,” he snapped, the grumpiness turning to anger in a flash, his cheeks red, fists clenched.
I’d overstepped, and now I felt bad.
He glanced at me, some of those sharp edges softening. “It just wasn’t right. Harriet is happily married now, and we’re friends. I’m happy for her.”
“Harriet?” I yelled.
His shoulders bunched, and he shot a cursory look around the street. “Will you lower your voice?”
“Harriet,” I said again, thinking about the head of the royal guard being in a relationship with Wolfe. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed like the two overly serious warriors would be perfect for each other.
We passed the dress shop, and I stopped, peering down at my worn blue dress. A few other dresses had mysteriously appeared in my wardrobe, and I’d wondered if it had been the castle’s doing or Cillian’s. Either way, I took it as a sign I should probably get some new clothes.
I tugged on Wolfe’s sleeve. “Let’s stop here.”
He groaned.
“Oh, stop complaining. Maybe we can get you some new clothes too.”
I grabbed his hand and yanked him into the shop.
Ceri emerged from behind the curtain in the back, her face brightening when she saw me. “Niamh.” She rushed forward and grabbed my hands. “I’ve heard so much about you from Cillian. I’ve been hoping you’d visit.”
I shifted on my feet, feeling a little awkward about the fact that I was marrying her best friend and hadn’t even introduced myself yet. Well, until now.
“I’ve heard so much about you too,” I said. “And I am in desperate need of some clothes.” I glanced down at my blue dress with a grimace.
Ceri gestured to the shelves piled with fabrics. “I think we can manage.”
Wolfe grunted beside me, which seemed to be the only language he spoke when out in public.
Ceri turned a stony gaze on him. “Hi, Wolfe,” she said, her voice frosty.
Even Ceri didn’t like Wolfe? She was Cillian’s best friend. Surely she should like his brother.
She smiled at me warmly. “Let me just pick out some fabrics that I think would work well with your complexion and hair. We’ll get a few measurements, and I’ll have your new clothes delivered to the castle.”
I noticed a golden key on her palm. Now that I knew I needed the key, my gaze sought it out on everyone I came across, and I wondered when I’d get mine—and where it would appear.
I’d already been here two weeks, and that meant I only had four left to somehow get the castle’s approval.
I’d taken daily walks, and every time Morton complained about the castle, I was quick to come to its defense.
“Niamh?” Ceri asked, drawing me back from my thoughts.
“You were saying you’ll have my clothes delivered?” As a former lady’s maid, I didn’t have the fanciest clothes. Ashami would’ve shared her clothes with me, but I was definitely wider, curvier, and much bustier than her. “That sounds amazing.”
Wolfe put his hands on his hips, glancing up in irritation as Ceri bustled away.
I swatted him. “Will you stop that?”
“Do I really have to be here for this?” he asked as Ceri’s father hobbled out from the back, stopping when he spotted us.
His hand went to his heart. “You’re looking flushed, my dear. You’re not sick, are you?” He backed away.
“No, I wanted to stop by. Wolfe and I just finished our morning training session, and I was feeling a little faint, so he insisted on walking me back to the castle, but I didn’t feel like going there just yet and decided it was time to go shopping, so now he’s forced to walk through town with me.
” I leaned forward and whispered, “Which I think is good for him.”
Ceri’s father gave me the sweetest smile, but as soon as his gaze set upon Wolfe, his smile turned into a frown. “Well, you better not be here shouting and hollering about the prince again. I don’t know where he is. Haven’t seen him, but Ceri probably has.”
I turned to Wolfe. “Have you been yelling at people?”
Wolfe was fiercely protective of his brother, and on the one hand, I understood Cillian was the high prince, but on the other hand, he was also a grown-ass man who made his own choices.
From the conversations I’d had with Cillian over the last few weeks, he’d made it clear that he wanted freedom and anonymity.
Neither were things that Wolfe approved of, so the high prince resorted to sneaking out so that he could do the things he wanted.
And apparently, instead of blaming the high prince, his brother was out here terrorizing innocent people.
Wolfe just grunted again, and Ceri’s father grumbled, “Only every other day.”
I threw up my arms. “This is ridiculous.” I looked at Ceri’s father, his back slightly hunched, his wrinkled hands shaking, and wasn’t sure how anyone could yell at him. I jabbed Wolfe in the chest. “No more yelling at people.”
“And no more overturning my mannequins.” Ceri’s father gestured to the shop, mannequins throughout the space wearing stylish dresses. “It makes such a mess.”
It was slight, but Wolfe winced at the words, and I gasped. “You overturned his mannequins?”
“I thought he was hiding Cillian behind one of them,” Wolfe replied gruffly. “Wasn’t my best moment. Are we ready to go back to the castle yet?”
Ceri reemerged with an armful of fabrics. A beautiful dark yellow, a satin green, a striped blue and white, maroon, black, and beige.
“We’ll do a few trousers, some tunics, some nightgowns, and dresses.”
I put my hands to my cheeks. “That’s too much.”
She shook her head, curls bouncing. “Of course it’s not. I just need to grab a few measurements, and you’ll be on your way.”
Her father leaned over to his daughter and whispered, “Don’t get too close. She might be sick.”
Ceri put her hand on her father’s arm. “Why don’t you take Wolfe to look at some of the fabrics we have for trousers? He could use a few new pairs.” Her gaze dipped down to Wolfe’s mud-splattered pants.
Wolfe’s jaw locked, but he followed Ceri’s father as she turned to me. “Sorry about that.” She took a knotted string and wrapped it around my bust. “He’s a little paranoid sometimes, but he means well.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” I said. “Your father is lovely.” I cleared my throat. “How are you feeling about your best friend getting married?”
Her head snapped up, understanding flooding her face. “Oh no. Not you too.”
She grabbed a quill from behind her ear and scratched some numbers on a nearby parchment, then she moved the knotted string to my waist, wrapping it tight.
“What do you mean?” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, suddenly feeling nervous. What if she was about to confess her feelings for Cillian? It would be so awkward. What if the castle liked her better than me and kicked me out?
She rolled her eyes. “Cillian and I are friends. That’s it. Besides, even if I did have feelings for him, I could never leave my father.” She glanced over her shoulder. “He’s . . . well, he’s not ill, exactly, but he just needs me.”
The words triggered a memory of me overhearing Ashami say the same thing.
She’d been talking to her mother, the Queen of Bergenay about why she kept me as a lady’s maid when I was so opposite of the strong, courageous princess.
That’s what Ashami had said. That I needed her.
Not that she needed me, though we did balance each other out.
I remembered going home and crying, feeling like a burden on everyone I loved.
It didn’t seem like Ceri saw her father as a burden, but I did wonder why she thought he needed her so much.
I didn’t know her well enough to ask, so I just said, “Of course.”
“I have no interest in love. I have everything I need inside this shop. And I’m happy for you and Cillian.”
I glanced over at Wolfe and her father, Wolfe rolling his eyes as Ceri’s father tied a knotted string around his waist.
“Can I ask you another question?” I asked.
Ceri knelt down, now measuring my buttocks. “Of course.”
“Why don’t you like Wolfe?”
She faltered with the string. “Like I said, I’m Cillian’s best friend, and I just think Wolfe hasn’t been the best brother to him, but it’s not my story to tell.”
I swallowed, unsure of what any of that meant, especially when Wolfe was so protective of Cillian. Maybe it had to do with their brother who had died—something I’d figured out on my own by this point—but I couldn’t help but feel I was missing a big part of the picture.
Ceri stood and circled me. “You know, I have a dress in the back that I think might fit you. Do you want to try it on?”
“No,” I said as she was already pushing me toward the curtains. “It’s really okay.”
“I can’t let you walk around town in that,” Ceri burst out. “It’s a travesty.”
I looked down at my mud-covered dress, full of holes and tears. I couldn’t disagree.
She shoved me through the curtain, then started undoing the buttons of my dress. “Okay, so we’re doing this,” I muttered.
“Just try it on, and if you don’t like it, then you don’t have to take it.” She pulled my dress down, leaving me in only my panties and bra, my pudgy tummy and ample curves on display.
I wasn’t ashamed of my body, but I also wasn’t used to stripping in front of complete strangers.
She bustled to a wooden rack and pulled off a sapphire blue dress with a golden belt and ruched long sleeves. Her eyes gleamed. “This is going to look stunning on you.”
She lifted the dress over my head and tugged it on as I slipped my arms through the sleeves. “Oh my word.” She brought her hands to her cheeks. “You should see yourself.” She snapped her fingers. “There’s a mirror out in the main shop. Let me show you.”
“Wait,” I protested, but she was already pushing me out from behind the curtain and right in front of Wolfe.
He tapped his boot impatiently, looking at the ground. “Are we almost ready to . . .” He trailed off when his gaze landed on me, his mouth going ajar as his brown eyes sparked, traveling painfully slowly from my head all the way down my body, and I flushed at the heat of his gaze.
Oh, godwitches. I hadn’t even had a chance to look at myself yet. He was probably horrified or something.
“Like I said”—Ceri nudged me—“you look stunning.”
Wolfe cleared his throat and looked away, shifting back and forth. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yes,” I said, suddenly needing to get out of here and break this weird tension filling the room. “Let’s go.”