Chapter 7
Ceri
Chaos exploded around me as the room broke into a cacophony of yells, questions, and chatter.
“Get that thing off your head, Ceri.” My father reached up with shaking hands to try and grab the crown. He grasped its shiny peaks and pulled with all his might to no avail.
The entire time, I stared at Cillian, holding his gaze, which was full of confusion . . . and something else. Amusement, maybe? Or relief, probably. I knew he hadn’t wanted to get married as much as he claimed he was “fine” and “happy to do it.”
Siobhan wailed in front of him, clutching her stomach, sobs racking her body. Her mother, who had the same lavender hair as Siobhan, rushed to her daughter’s side, comforting her as best as she could while shooting glares at Cillian like this was somehow his fault.
My father huffed, and I looked away from Cillian to him. His face was red, his chest heaving. “The damn thing won’t come off. Ceri, what does this mean? Have we not given enough offerings this season?”
My gaze tipped upward to the crown. I could just see its golden edge hovering over my head.
I had no idea what it meant, but I highly doubted it had to do with our offerings to the godwitches, which my father insisted on making weekly to ensure our safety and protection.
We made more offerings than anyone else in Fairwitch Isle, but also .
. . I wasn’t even sure this was a punishment.
I’d been so in shock until this moment that I hadn’t actually thought about it. I had no idea why a crown had appeared over my head. Why Siobhan also had one.
From a few aisles behind us, a scream pierced the air, and I whipped around to see yet another crown hanging in the air, shimmering over a woman’s head. Lila—the cobbler’s daughter. She stood next to her betrothed, who glared at the crown while Lila sobbed.
“What is this? I can’t marry the prince. I’m already engaged. Mother, do something!”
Her mother stood helplessly next to her, staring at the crown in shock.
Cillian’s mouth had dropped open, and Siobhan had stopped wailing, momentarily in shock with the rest of us.
“What in the godwitches’ name is happening?” my father mumbled. “Dark omens. I told you those clouds meant dark omens.” He raised a finger. “We should douse ourselves in vinegar when we get home.”
Oh, not the vinegar. It was some ancient tradition my father read about once in a book, and ever since, he was convinced that anytime something bad happened, we needed to bathe in vinegar, which was not only disgusting but also incredibly unpleasant.
“I think we’re out,” I said.
He raised a brow. “Really? I thought you just bought some.”
“No,” I said quickly. “I don’t think so.”
He looked at me suspiciously while Cillian attempted to calm the room as he held out his hands. “Everyone, please, just settle down.”
Wolfe came to stand next to him and yelled out, “Enough!” His voice boomed over the room, and the crowd fell into silence.
“That’s one way to do it,” Cillian said under his breath.
He raked a hand through his hair, something he did when he was nervous.
“I am as confused as the rest of you, but I can assure you we will figure this out. We’ve been through Brotherhood attacks and our castle moving.
” He tipped his head. “Our castle moving a second time. Living with the Fair Folk, who, let’s be honest, aren’t always easy to get along with.
” He elbowed Siobhan, who didn’t look remotely amused as she stared stonily ahead.
He cleared his throat. “But together we will seek to understand what is happening and why crowns are appearing over the heads of multiple people.”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd, unease settling over us like a dense fog. My own stomach churned with it, and my father wrung his hands, staring off in the distance, his eyes clouded with worry.
I couldn’t even take the time to focus on what this meant because I was too worried about him.
When he spiraled, he stopped sleeping. And when he didn’t sleep, he took up projects during the night.
Loud projects that kept me awake. I couldn’t even think about the worst-case scenario—what had happened to Father when we’d lost my mother and sister.
I laid a hand on his arm. “Papa, I’m sure this is just a mistake.”
He turned to me, brown eyes now wild, filled with fear. “What if you are to be queen, Ceri? You’ll have to move to the castle. You’ll have to leave me.”
I grabbed his hands. Once upon a time, his hands were strong and sure, and he’d been the one to assure me when I thought there were monsters under the bed or outside.
But now it was my job to chase away the imaginary monsters.
I squeezed his hands tight. “That will never happen. I won’t ever leave you, Papa. You know that.”
He blew out a shaky breath. “Maybe we should get the vinegar, just in case. You go run to the market, and I’ll get the bath cleaned and ready. You go first. Maybe that dastardly thing over your head will disappear.”
“Yes, it probably will.” The smell of the vinegar would surely scare it away.
“That’s the spirit, my girl.” Father put his hands on my shoulders and gave me a little shake, completely missing the sarcasm in my voice.
Another scream echoed from somewhere outside, and I winced, guessing another crown had appeared. I looked at Cillian, and he was staring at me—at the shiny golden object over my head.
I gave him a small shrug that made the corners of his lips quirk. This all had to be a mistake. I couldn’t marry Cillian. I couldn’t leave my father. I couldn’t be queen.
I let out a long breath. “Maybe some vinegar wouldn’t hurt after all.”
I’d try anything to get this stupid crown to go away and make life go back to normal. But I had a feeling that after this, things would never be the same.