Chapter 19
Chapter
Nineteen
NISSA
The guards must have sent word ahead. The doors are thrown open, Aiden on the castle steps. When Cillian sees me, he rushes down the stairs two at a time, taking long strides towards me. Caspien follows, his steps slower and his hands in his pocket.
The witch’s words echo in my mind. As if she were still whispering them into the wind from wherever she is now.
They have hidden so much.
Trust no one but the future king.
Then I hear another voice. You’re safe.
I stumble backwards a step. When Cillian reaches to steady me, I straighten on my own and move away from him.
“Nissa?” he says gently. His hand drops, but he continues to check me over for any outward injuries, face filled with concern
Everything happening around me slows, and all the voices drop to a white noise.
Time seems to be moving in slow motion as I scan from person to person.
Caspien is watching us closely, his eyes thinned to slits, taking in his brother’s focus on me.
Isolde closes her eyes briefly, shaking her head, mouth tight.
Her suspicions are undoubtedly confirmed.
Aiden is nonchalantly leaning against the castle wall, a small flame dancing between his fingers. He watches us with all-knowing eyes, raising a single brow at me, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.
My heart is a drum in my ears. Panic continues to fill my chest. Cillian says something else to me, but I don’t register his words.
Guardians from Solevara and Varethriel are watching both of us, some faces confused, some sympathetic. I lose the wind in my chest as I watch each person form an opinion on whatever is happening between Cillian and me.
But there is nothing happening. I’ve merely been caught up by the memories of our childhood and by what seems to be his selfless devotion to helping the Fae world. Nothing has happened. Nothing will happen. I won’t drag him through the mud just to turn around and leave.
I close my eyes for the briefest moment, blocking everyone out, before straightening my back and transforming into the princess I need to be in this moment. The sister, Nova needs me to be so I can get to the bottom of all of this.
Sound floods back to me like lightning striking, and Isolde’s shrill voice hits me, complaining about the dangers of Varethiel. With my mask firmly in place, I walk around Cillian towards my betrothed. Towards the future King of Castara, of the Two Kingdoms, of the Fae.
The one the witch said I could trust.
Sliding my hand into his, every nerve in my body fighting the idea, I look up from under my lashes. “Can we go home now?”
The acrid smell from smokewalking still in my nose, I throw the door to my room open. My body is shaking, as if it wants to rid me of everything happening. Of the pressure of the day, of spending time with the male who potentially killed my sister, of the whole lot of them who are lying to me.
I’m just not sure who that is yet, or about what.
As much as I feel like the witch was telling the truth, I can’t shake the feeling of wrongness I have after traveling with Caspien’s hands on me. Will his connection to Nova ever leave my mind?
He’s not your mate.
Another tremor racks my body, and I let out a small cry into the empty room. I try to calm myself, taking multiple deep breaths and still unable to get my thoughts straight. My little green wisp appears at my request, and I release a breath when Ophe’s voice fills the room transmitting through him.
“Tell me you are finally getting some and are calling with all the juicy details,” she whispers, deliberately keeping her voice quiet.
I should know better than to reach out to her this late. Her father will be furious if he hears her. I don’t want to cause her any issues. But at the same time, I need her. She’s all I have, for now.
“Let’s not use the word ‘juicy’ when discussing getting some,” I say, releasing a broken laugh.
Silence stretches in the distance between us.
“Who are we returning to their element?” she finally asks. “I’m sure any number of these farm tools could be used as a weapon.”
There are rummaging sounds, like she is actually searching for some form of a weapon. Her blind support fills my lungs with a calming wind for the first time since I was dragged away from the crone in Varethiel.
“I can come.” Her voice softens when I don’t respond. “I can leave right now if you need me.”
I want to scream yes. I could even send someone to get her here faster. But who could I even trust to send? And her father is just now off her back about coming to see me after the announcement… It would be too selfish.
Selfish. A term I am becoming accustomed to. Selfish to run. Selfish for pulling Cillian into this. Selfish for wanting my best friend…
I sit down on the edge of the bed and rub and hand down my face. “No.” I try to add some strength to the word. I almost add, I’m fine, but she is the one person who would see through it.
Cillian would see through it too.
I swallow, shoving away the invasive thought. I clear my throat, and repeat, “No,” more for myself than her. “I just needed to talk.”
“I’m here.”
I sigh out a small amount of the pressure in my chest. She is here and always has been. Through the good and the bad. We have had each other’s back and supported each other even when the other couldn’t find the words.
“I went to Varethiel today to meet their prince and royal council.”
“Oooo, is he—” She breaks off abruptly. “Nope, nope, nope,” she chants. “Not asking that. Go on.”
I can’t help releasing a small chuckle. The familiarity of it provides comfort, and I relax a little more into the bed.
“Yes, he is quite attractive,” I answer her unasked question. “And very” —I search for the word to describe my encounter with Aiden—“attentive.”
She lets out a slow sigh. “You’re making this very difficult to not take this conversation down the wrong path. What does that mean? Attentive?”
“I don’t know. He was almost protective in an ‘I don’t care about you’ kind of way,” I say slowly, trying to work it out in my head.
“You suck at this. Just tell me what happened.”
I give her a quick recap.
“He sounds broody and dangerous—I love it! Little Nissa who avoids all attention now has three sexy males trying to catch her eye. How very slutty of you! Tell me you’re putting at least one of them to good use.”
My mind flashes to Cillian, my magic’s reaction to him and how it took everything in my body to not take him up on his words right then and there in my study. I shake the thought away with the reminder of Isolde’s warning.
“That’s the thing… Aiden didn’t actually seem interested in me. Just very curious and oddly… protective. But that isn’t why I wisped you.”
“That isn’t an answer,” she grumbles under her breath.
I dive into every detail of my run in with the old witch and everything she said. Waiting on a response, I fidget with my dress. I stick my hand into my pocket and feel the sliver of paper still there.
The instructions that Aiden left me. The instructions that could give me the way out that I need. It could be a trap, but if I can just use it to get to Varethiel without anyone knowing, then I could use their portals to leave. It’s a risk, but the best solution so far.
You could leave now.
The voice is back in my head. I thumb the small piece of paper, and my magic goes still in my veins at the thought.
While part of me feels like I need to protect Cillian from myself, there are still too many unanswered questions for me to run.
I can’t leave—yet. But now I know how to get out when I can.
“I don’t even know where to start asking questions.” Ophe finally says once I’m done.
“I probably won’t know the answers anyway. Each time I find more information, it feels like the Goddess throws something else at me.”
“Could Aiden’s protectiveness have something to do with whatever the witch is talking about? Do you think he’s worried about the Vaylors hurting you if you find out something?”
It is one of the many things that has taken root in my mind since being pulled through the streets of Varethiel. Could Aiden be the good guy in all this?
“I don’t think the Vaylors plan to hurt me. They need me for Caspien’s coronation with Nova gone… But they’re hiding something. We can’t trust them.” I nod to myself. “Except Caspien, if we’re to believe the witch.”
“Do we believe the witch?” Ophe muses. “I’m not brushed up on knowledge of the witches and their level of trustworthiness.”
“Isolde insists they’re notorious for manipulating and twisting words. I’m going to check on that. But something is obviously going on, and I do feel like I’m being lied to. I’ve felt that way since the day Nova died.” I just didn’t feel like Cillian was lying to me.
I press my temple, trying to ease the pressure that has been building there.
Is the witch, right? Can I only trust Caspien?
I realize that doesn’t entirely fit. Obviously, I trust Ophe.
And could Cillian really be deceiving me?
Have I been completely blinded by our past and his pretty face?
Okay, it’s more than pretty, but that just makes it worse.
I heave a sigh.
And the helper in Ophe kicks in. “Okay, so if we believe the witch—which at the moment let’s say we do—then your first step is to figure out what this prophecy is. And you can’t trust anyone. I wouldn’t even trust Caspien. There are just too many variables.”
For the next hour, Ophe and I make a plan.