Chapter 32
Niamh
Isat in a chair in the library, reading a book I’d come across about the godwitches and the current top theories about why they’d decided to give up their magic.
Others sat in the library as well, the space now feeling so cozy and complete with everyone able to access it, like this was what the library had been waiting for all along.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Morton cleared his throat from next to me where he rested on the arm of the chair.
“No.” I slid the book up higher to cover my face.
Morton had come upon me last night with my tear-streaked face and puffy eyes, and I’d broken down and told him that I’d admitted the truth to Cillian and that there was absolutely no future for Wolfe and me. I hadn’t been able to say much more because I’d been sobbing so hard I couldn’t breathe.
I turned the page of my book, reading one interesting theory about how the godwitches might’ve given up their magic because it actually hindered them, made them so powerful they couldn’t separate their identities from the magic.
Another theory proposed that the stripping of magic was a total accident. And another theory pondered whether it was a curse.
Morton poked his head over the page, one of his wings stretching out and blocking where I was reading. “I think you might need to talk about it.”
I sighed and gave up on reading. “I’m okay. Really, I am.”
Morton lifted one shaggy eyebrow. “Last night, you had a complete breakdown, and you’d like me to believe you’re ‘okay’?”
A woman nearby shushed us, and I glared at Morton.
“I’m telling you,” I whispered. “I’m fine.”
He slithered up my arm and plastered his cold, scaly body against my forehead. My eyes rolled upward. “What are you doing?”
“Feeling your forehead to see if you’re out of your mind with fever.”
I peeled him off and plopped him back on the book. “I got a full night’s sleep and woke up this morning with a different perspective.”
“What perspective would that be?”
“That I don’t need a man. I have this castle, this library, everything I could want.”
“Oh no. You’re in the seven stages of grief,” Morton said. “I believe this current stage is denial.”
Morton’s tail curled over the side of the chair, and he lifted it briefly. I gasped and grasped the end of it, lifting him and staring in awe at a tiny golden key inked right there on his scales.
“I was going to tell you,” he said guiltily, still upside down as I squinted at the tattoo.
“When?” I asked, feeling the sting of jealousy.
“Last night. I had a whole plan, but then you were crying and upset, and I didn’t think it was the right time.”
I set him down gently. “Thank you for trying to spare my feelings, but it’s always the right time to tell me good news like this.”
“I told him he should tell you about the key, for what it’s worth,” Margaret whispered from a nearby painting, and I twisted in my seat to look between her and Morton.
“You told Margaret?” I asked.
“Well, maybe you were right about people not being so bad,” he mumbled. “She’s grown on me a bit. Some of her stories are interesting.”
“You mean gossip,” I pointed out, and he gave me a look.
“I’m so happy for you, Morton.” I paused. “Can you handle the desk for a little while? I think I need to get some air.”
Morton nodded, brows knitting together as I stood and walked out of the library and into the hallway, mulling over our conversation.
“Niamh, did you hear the news?” I jumped to see Margaret in the painting on the wall.
I kept walking, and Margaret jumped to the next painting, following me.
“I don’t know if I can take any more news right now,” I said. “I’m taking a walk to clear my head.”
She jumped into the next painting. “Oh, but this is big news.”
“Margaret, now is not the time—”
“Wolfe and the high prince got into a huge fight last night, and the high prince punched Wolfe!”
I stiffened. When had that happened? Before or after Wolfe had kissed me? It had been dark in the library, all the lights flickering out, and I’d been so disoriented and shocked by that kiss that I hadn’t taken in any details.
Why had Cillian punched Wolfe?
“I saw the whole thing,” Margaret said with glee. “Not that I’m happy about it. I don’t condone violence of any kind. They were shouting at each other, and Nevan was trying to get between them. I couldn’t hear what was being said, but they were both very angry.”
My hand floated to my mouth. I hoped the fight hadn’t been about me. I’d never want to get between the brothers. Oh, godwitches. What if Wolfe and Cillian never spoke again and it was my fault?
“And apparently, this morning, Wolfe left.”
Icy cold threaded through my veins. “What? Left what?”
“Fairwitch Isle.” Margaret sighed, putting a hand to her head. “He was never particularly pleasant, but I’m going to miss that glower.”
“No.” I backed away from the wall. “He wouldn’t just leave Fairwitch Isle, leave Cillian.” Leave me. All the hope I’d been feeling this morning drained away. “You’re wrong. You must be wrong.”
Margaret frowned. “Oh dear. I’ve upset you.” She twined her hands together. “I thought you might like to know that he’s gone is all, but my delivery was completely wrong.” Her eyes welled with tears.
“It’s okay, Margaret. I appreciate you telling me.”
Morton slithered into the hallway. “What is going on out here?”
“Wolfe left,” I said, voice shaking. “Margaret said he left Fairwitch Isle this morning.”
“Oh, that idiot,” Morton said. “Well, apparently, my chat with him didn’t get through his thick skull like I’d hoped.”
“Your chat?”
Morton blinked. “I might’ve gone to visit him early this morning after he made you cry last night.”
“You didn’t.” I put a hand on the wall, steadying myself. “What did you say?”
“I might’ve mentioned he didn’t deserve you.”
I groaned. “Morton!”
“Well, he doesn’t, but I told him he could deserve you. It was supposed to be a pep talk! Not a ‘leave and never come back’ talk!”
He’d left. He’d just gone and left like I meant nothing at all, and maybe I didn’t.
“Niamh?” a voice called. Harriet stood in the hallway. Her black hair looked like a halo around her head, tight curls spiraling in all directions.
I remembered Wolfe’s admission about his and Harriet’s relationship, about why they’d bonded. I was no Harriet, definitely not a warrior.
“Harriet,” I said, holding back my tears, “how can I help you?”
“I wanted to talk to you.” Her hands twisted together in front of her.
“Margaret,” Morton called. “I need your help in the library.”
Margaret straightened, frowning. “But I was just listening—”
“Margaret,” Morton said, an edge to his voice.
“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “Right. Help.” She winked, and Morton just let out a heavy sigh as he slithered back into the library. Margaret hopped from painting to painting, finally disappearing.
I turned to Harriet. “What’s wrong? Is it Cillian?”
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about Wolfe.”
“Oh.” I was less enthusiastic about this.
“I know you two were in a relationship for seven years, and I don’t know what you’ve heard, but there’s nothing going on between us.
” I let out a nervous laugh, knowing I was rambling.
“I’m not a warrior like you, which, apparently, is what he’s attracted to.
He left this morning, you know. Just left.
I think it’s my fault. Or maybe not. Either way, it doesn’t matter—”
“He’s not attracted to warriors,” Harriet said, looking as nervous as I felt. “I’m so bad at this. I should’ve brought Maya.”
“Maya?” I asked.
“My wife.”
“Oh. I—” Well, I hadn’t been expecting that. “Is that why you and Wolfe didn’t work out?” He certainly hadn’t shared that part.
“No.” She gave a quiet laugh. “He knew that I liked men and women when we got into a relationship. That was never the problem.”
“What was, then?” I asked, feeling more confused than ever.
She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m really messing this up. Well, you know Margaret likes to gossip. She was telling Maya about you and Wolfe’s fight last night in the library, and Maya told me I needed to come see you.”
My cheeks flushed. Of course Margaret had overhead that.
“I’ve heard bits and pieces of gossip about how much Wolfe has opened up to you over the last few months.” She hesitated. “Did he tell you why we broke up?”
I shook my head, still not sure where this was going.
“After Lor died, I couldn’t get him to talk.
Not about anything. I’m terrible at communication, which I think is why I fell for Maya.
She’s not. She’s so sneaky in the way she gets information from me.
” She swallowed thickly. “I came here this morning because Margaret mentioned that you were wrecked by that fight, a crying mess.”
Thank you for that, Margaret.
“And I wanted to tell you that Wolfe has opened up to you in a way he never has to anyone.”
“Oh.” That stopped me.
“He’s told you things he never told me. I think that’s why we liked each other so much.
Neither of us pushed the other one, neither of us forced uncomfortable conversations.
But you do. You do for Wolfe what my wife does for me.
I guess I just wanted you to know that Wolfe is scared.
He’s so scared he’s running, apparently.
But don’t give up on him. Maya would tell you he’s worth it, just like I was worth the challenge for her. ”
“Why are you telling me all this?” I asked, voice trembling.
“Because Wolfe might not have been the one for me, but we were together for seven years, and I do care about him. I want him to be happy, and I think you might be the key to all of it.”
She turned to walk away.
“Harriet?” I called.
She hesitated.
“Thank you,” I said, and she nodded before disappearing down the hall.
My hands balled into fists at my side as I thought about everything she’d just revealed. If RafeWolfgang thought he was going to just leave, he had another thing coming. If I could overcome my fears, then he could too. I spun on my heel.
Morton poked his head out the library door. “Where are you going?”
“To get that idiot back,” I said.