Chapter 20
Wolfe
The dragon wasps flew into the sky, disappearing as they crossed the magical barrier of Fairwitch Isle, their red haze lifting into the air and following them as royal guards stood on the rooftops of our buildings, holding blazing torches and waving them in the air.
Nevan knelt by an elderly man who hadn’t been able to get to safety and had inhaled too much of the red smoke. He lay on the ground, clutching his stomach while Nevan tipped a smoking blue potion into his mouth.
Others similar to the elderly man lay scattered on the street, moaning in pain as a few healers that worked with Nevan attended to them.
I wanted to clap my hands over my ears and block out the loud pounding that brought back memories I’d worked very hard to shove away.
Royal guards milled around in the streets, knocking on doors, letting people know it was safe to emerge, and slowly, citizens began to peek their heads out from behind closed doors.
My jaw locked, and I yanked down the scarf I’d wrapped around my nose and mouth. My breathing grew heavy and the pounding in my ears got louder at the sight of how many of our people had been injured. Too many people.
My hands curled into fists, and I was already itching to get back to my cabin and chop some fucking wood until I was so tired I couldn’t think.
At least I knew Cillian was safe in the castle—that had been confirmed by one of the royal guard when the attack first happened.
That knowledge allowed me to focus on helping ward off the dragon wasps with the fire Niamh had suggested.
Thank the godwitches she’d been here, been able to tell me what we could do, otherwise this attack might have been much more deadly.
Without our library, we’d been very limited in our ability to access information.
Now that Niamh had found that, hopefully things would begin to change and we could use it to our advantage.
I’d have to thank Niamh when I saw her.
I stilled when I realized I’d lost her. Niamh. I whirled around, looking up and down the streets for that familiar curtain of red hair, but I didn’t see her anywhere.
Fuck. Where was she? What had happened to her?
A cold sweat broke out over my body, all the calm I’d felt fighting off the wasps now dissipating.
I couldn’t even remember what I’d said to her or what she’d said to me as the dragon wasps descended upon us.
I’d been so focused on Cillian, on keeping that red smoke from infiltrating the castle, that I hadn’t been in my right mind.
I ran to Harriet, who’d yanked down her scarf and was shouting orders to the guards, and grabbed her by the shoulders.
“Wolfe! What has gotten into you?” Her curly brown hair had gotten loose from its bun, tendrils escaping and plastered to her chestnut skin. “Hey, you can talk to me.”
“Niamh,” I said, voice rough. “Have you seen her anywhere?”
Harriet’s hazel eyes widened. “No. I assumed she was in the castle with Cillian.”
I swore. That’s where she should’ve been, but I’d let her convince me to walk around town, to dally about, and now she was missing. The pounding in my ears roared, exactly the same as when Lor had died all those years ago. When it had been my fault.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Is everything okay?” Nevan asked, approaching, running a hand over his short brown hair.
“I haven’t seen him like this before,” Harriet said, eyeing me like I was a wild animal who might attack at any moment. “He’s very agitated.”
“Wolfe, what’s wrong?” Nevan asked. “Is it Cillian?”
“Cillian is safe,” Harriet said.
I could barely hear them over the thundering in my ears, and I looked toward the castle, my gaze homing in.
Niamh had to be there. Safe in her tower with that pink know-it-all bookwyrm.
I’d run in there and burst through the door, and she’d laugh at me and tell me how ridiculous I was for being so worried.
“I have to find her.” I shoved past Nevan and started running for the castle.
He shouted after me, but I ignored him, bolting toward the steps that led up to the front doors.
The gargoyles didn’t even have time to jump into action as I wrenched the doors open and raced toward the stairs, taking three at time.
“Hey! That was my job!” one of them yelled.
“No, it’s mine,” the other one said.
“Everyone knows I’m the main door opener.”
“Oh really? Then why do I always get the door open first?”
“You don’t!”
Their argument faded into the background, and I barged into the castle, stopping when a sword slashed across the air and landed right in front of my torso. “On guard,” Sir Arthur yelled.
Witches be, between the gargoyles and this, I was going to lose it. “What are you doing up here, Arthur?”
He’d only ever been in the dungeons.
“A very kind maiden helped me up here.”
I already knew. I already fucking knew who he was referring to. “Was her name Niamh?”
“Yes, it was. She came upon me a few days ago and said I would be of much better use up here, guarding the entrance to the castle. I told her that was a brilliant idea.”
“Of course you did.” Honestly, I’d never thought about moving Sir Arthur. Everyone just assumed he belonged in the dungeon.
“Now, on guard!” he yelled again, waving his sword in the air.
“I’m not an intruder,” I said. “Let me by.”
He straightened. “Not until you tell me the password.”
“The password,” I gritted out, red painting my vision.
“Yes, the lovely redhaired maiden came up with the idea. She said I was such a good guard, threatening everyone who came into the castle, but that perhaps they weren’t all threats to be exterminated.”
“Who would’ve thought?” I asked, ready to shove him out of the way and get to her tower.
“So I decided on a password that I gave to Prince Cillian, and he, in turn, shared with those who are allowed into the castle.” He jabbed his sword at me. “If you don’t know the password, I cannot let you pass.”
Fucking fuck. “Sir Arthur,” I said, “I’m going to give you one chance to step aside before I crush your armor to dust—”
“The password is grapes,” a voice whispered from behind me, and I recognized it as Margaret. I hadn’t seen her in years, but I didn’t have time think through her sudden appearance.
“Grapes,” I said, out of patience.
Sir Arthur straightened. “Oh, well, why didn’t you say that in first place?” He began walking toward the wall. “Complete waste of my time.”
I didn’t wait to answer, running up the stairs so fast that a servant polishing the banister yelped and jumped out of the way as I barreled past him, unable to think of anything but getting to her fucking tower.
My legs carried me in the direction I needed to go, my mind shutting off, my body taking over. I’d tear the castle apart. I’d turn over every room, break down every door, until I found her and knew that she was safe.
I’d do all the things I hadn’t done for Lor.
If those dragon wasps had somehow taken Niamh, I’d leave Fairwitch Isle and find her.
I would find her. I couldn’t let down Cillian again.
Niamh was his betrothed, his future queen, and that meant it was my job to protect her as much as I protected Cillian.
My throat grew thick with my building anxiety until I finally reached the stairs to Niamh’s tower. She was up there. She was safe. She had to be. But right as I began ascending the stairs, they shifted.
“No,” I yelled to Castle. “Don’t you fucking dare take me somewhere else right now.”
The stairs writhed, and I flew backward, my back hitting the stone wall of the stairwell.
It was already too late to argue with Castle.
Castle did what Castle wanted, and right now, it wanted me to go somewhere else, no matter what plan I had.
It was probably taking me to Cillian, but Cillian didn’t need me right now, and I couldn’t face my brother not knowing if his future queen was safe.
The stairs shifted, making popping sounds as each one flattened into a long hallway.
The stone walls transformed to smooth walls, green floral wallpaper falling down over them that I didn’t recognize.
I slowly stood, looking around in confusion.
This wasn’t Cillian’s room, so where in the fuck had Castle taken me?
Maybe it already knew I’d failed yet again, been responsible for someone else’s death, and now I was finally getting the punishment I deserved, getting locked away somewhere, disappeared forever, but that would mean Niamh was truly dead, that I’d never see her again, and I couldn’t accept that.
Double doors appeared at the end of the hallway, and my hands curled into fists.
If this was my fate, I’d fight it until the very end.
I’d claw my way out, stone by stone, and I’d find her.
I’d never stop looking. Never stop trying.
I marched toward the doors and wrenched them open, only to stop in my tracks when I was met with shelves upon shelves of books.
The wooden floors gleamed under the sun that shone through the huge stained-glass windows in the back. Books packed the shelves, all neat and organized. Chairs dotted the big space, a few rips here and there, but mostly they were intact.
Why would Castle bring me here? I walked past a spiral staircase, the steps and railing broken, and my gaze trailed to the upper level of the library, where shelves were overturned, books piled up everywhere.
“Morton,” a voice said from somewhere in the back. “I think I found an actual mop! That’ll make cleaning the upstairs so much easier.”
All the breath left my body at the sound of that voice. It broke through the pounding in my ears. That chirpy, annoying voice that I couldn’t seem to get out of my head.