Chapter 6
Cillian
Siobhan and I stood in the temple of the love and relationship godwitch.
The statue of the godwitch loomed over us, hands held out and holding a book while our closest family and friends gathered in the temple to watch us say our vows.
The rest of the city was outside, no doubt waiting to shower us with offerings once we exited.
Now that I was standing in front of Siobhan, I had to admit, she did look stunning. Ceri had found the perfect shade of sage green to complement her light brown skin and lavender hair. She was so good at that. Making everyone shine.
Siobhan was a gorgeous faerie. All the Fair Folk were good-looking.
They were also ancient, cursed, and very wary of us.
That was another reason this marriage was taking place.
We could finally bring our peoples together, showing the Fair Folk that ever since they portaled Fairwitch Isle from danger and to their mountaintop, they had a voice, were part of our community.
I swallowed thickly, and out of habit, I shoved my hand into my pocket to grab for my vial, but of course, it was painfully empty. No matter. I had a plan, and it would all be fine.
A gong sounded from the back of the temple, and everyone quieted as the marriage rites officially began. I shot a look at the crowd and locked eyes with my mother. Her brows crinkled like she was working out some riddle she couldn’t solve.
My mother had been obsessed with me getting married for years, so I expected her, of all people, to be excited about my betrothal, but lately, every time she looked at me, it was with concern.
I had no idea what she was concerned about. I was fine. Like I always was. Just fine.
The sound of the gong faded, and my gaze snapped back to Siobhan as the stone around the book started chipping, breaking off bit by bit to reveal a real book underneath—one that only appeared when a marriage was about to take place.
Pieces fell in chunks, the sound echoing as it cracked against the stone floor.
Siobhan didn’t even flinch, well prepared for this moment.
These marriage rites had been used for thousands of years, and even though the Fair Folk hadn’t been allowed to marry in the time of the godwitches, they’d attended and prepared many weddings.
Excitement filled Siobhan’s violet eyes.
They bore into me with a wildness that was slightly terrifying.
Godwitches, what was I getting myself into?
I met her gaze and straightened my shoulders, ready to make my vows and bind myself to her.
The stone had completely cracked away, the dusty pages of the book vibrating. A priestess of the temple stepped out from behind the statue, grabbing the book from the statue’s hands and clearing her throat.
“In the name of the love and relationship godwitch, I am here to oversee the wedded union of High Prince Cillian Wolfgang and Siobhan Monte.”
I glanced out at the crowd and this time caught Ceri’s gaze.
She widened her eyes at me, nudging her head as if to tell me to stop looking at her.
She was right. I should stop looking, but the sun shone through the red and pink stained-glass windows, and her golden curls glowed, otherworldly.
She mouthed “pay attention,” and my lips twitched at the little divot between her brows as she frowned.
“High Prince, did you hear me?” The priestess’s voice cut through the moment, and I looked forward at my bride, whose smile was tight, almost threatening.
Lovely. I was in for a wonderful night.
The priestess raised her chin. “As I was saying, you may now take your bride’s hands so we can complete the binding ceremony.”
I offered my hands, palms up, and Siobhan placed hers in them, so steady, not a nerve between us.
I remembered my father’s story about his wedding to my mother, how his hands had been shaking so badly my mother had to grab them to steady him.
He’d been so worried he’d do something wrong and the binding wouldn’t happen.
He’d wanted to marry my mother that badly.
I wondered what that kind of love, longing, might feel like.
Not that I’d ever know. As high prince, I wasn’t afforded that kind of freedom.
Yellow ribbon appeared in dancing motes of magic, wrapping around our hands and tying us in eternal marriage. It was finally time. I’d officially be married. Fairwitch Isle would finally have its queen. I’d save us yet.
The priestess opened her mouth to say the final words that would bind us when shimmering golden light appeared over Siobhan’s head, and the crowd gasped. Siobhan’s violet eyes widened and rolled upward.
“What? What’s happening?” She leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Is my hair out of place?”
“There’s something on your head,” I said, watching as the magic swirled faster, all of it coming together to form a glowing golden crown.
I sucked in a sharp breath. The crown.
“The castle has accepted you,” I said, unable to believe this was actually happening. The castle was accepting my choice. I’d finally done something right as high prince.
“My queen,” the priestess said, dipping her head.
The castle’s full magic would return, all our missing rooms would return, and Fairwitch Isle would finally be safe from—
A scream split the air, and my head snapped toward the crowd. Wolfe had stood, drawing his sword, gaze roaming the room for the threat.
“She has a crown too!” someone yelled, pointing toward the front.
The room erupted in chaos, and it took a moment for me to find the other crown, find the person whose head it was hovering over.
Familiar blond curls, pale skin, and wide, terrified brown eyes stared back at me. Ceri. Ceri had a crown.