Chapter 18
Cillian
Iwas sick of pretending, and I wasn’t going to do it any longer. I’d shoved my feelings away for far too long, and that brief respite from my tonic had shown me that I needed to feel again. And it would start with Ceri.
The town of Fairwitch Isle was quiet, the sky black and filled with clouds.
I stood outside Ceri’s dress shop, staring up at her bedroom window like I had so many nights in the past. I used to sneak into her room all the time, and we’d stay up late, sneaking candies that I’d taken from my mother’s kitchen and giggling and talking until the early morning when I’d have to sneak back out.
That had been when we were children, and it had also been when I’d first started falling in love with her.
I didn’t know if she felt the same, but I couldn’t deny it anymore.
I was going to tell her. Tonight. I climbed up the trellis and knocked on her window.
Ceri appeared, swinging it open as I climbed inside and took in that nightgown, the same one she’d worn the other night, with skimpy straps and sheer fabric and a plunging neckline.
It swayed around her curvy body, and godwitches, I wanted to grab her.
“Ceri, I have to tell you something.”
Her plush pink lips parted, and she pressed a finger against my lips. “I already know. I’ve known for a long time. And I love you too.”
I didn’t even have a chance to respond before her mouth was on mine, her hands grabbing at my shirt and ripping it open as she pushed me against the wall.
And then I was devouring her too, hand slipping inside her nightgown and brushing over her soft skin, skimming up to cup her heavy breasts.
Godwitches, I’d wanted to touch these for so fucking long.
My cock was hard and aching within seconds, and I hadn’t been this turned on in a long time. Maybe ever.
“I love you,” I said between frantic kisses. “I love you so fucking much.”
Our tongues tangled as her hand moved down to my cock, stroking it in a fast motion that made me feral.
“On guard,” she whispered.
“That’s an interesting thing to say while your hand is on my cock.”
“On guard, you scoundrel!”
Her hand stopped, and my cock ached from the lack of friction. “Scoundrel? That’s a new nickname, but if it gets you to keep touching me, you can call me anything you want.”
Something hard jabbed between my ribs.
“Ow!”
Ceri stepped back, staring at me, motionless now.
“Did you just punch me?” I shoved a hand through my hair, not sure what was happening. “That’s not quite the kind of foreplay I imagined.”
“Intruder!” Ceri said, voice deep and gravelly.
“I’ll leave if you’ve changed your mind—”
“What’s the password?”
“I-I didn’t know we had a password.”
“Tell me the password or I’ll shove this sword straight through your gut!”
I jolted upright in bed, chest heaving, sweat soaking my silk trousers and shirt, and found Sir Arthur standing over me and brandishing his wooden sword. Thank the godwitches I’d taken away his actual sword months ago.
“Sir Arthur, what are you doing in my bedroom?”
He pointed his wooden sword at my throat. “I know you’re an impostor. You’re not the real prince.”
His words sent prickles up my spine. The knight never seemed to recognize or remember anyone other than me and the other sentient objects in the castle. If he was starting to forget who I was, then Castle’s magic might have been weakening even more than I’d realized. Fuck.
“If I’m an impostor, then where is the real high prince?” I asked.
He sucked in a sharp breath. “Good godwitches, are you admitting to murder?”
“What?” I yelled. “How is that the conclusion you came to based on my question?”
“Murder!” Sir Arthur yelled. “The high prince has been murdered!”
“Will you stop it?” I hissed.
“Arthur, what are you doing in here?” Margaret appeared in a painting of me, blocking my face. Her gaze traveled from the knight to me, and she immediately covered her eyes. “Oh. Oh my goodness. Um, there is a situation happening under you sheets that I don’t think I was supposed to see.”
I looked down at my cock, still hard, and the dream I’d been having flooded back to me. Fucking fuck. I needed everyone to leave my chambers immediately.
I grabbed a pillow and covered my lap.
“Lady Margaret,” Sir Arthur said. “Has this miscreant offended you?”
Her hands dropped from her eyes. “Um, no! Just surprised me is all.” She let out a weak laugh.
“I told you, I’m not a miscreant. I’m the high prince.”
“Liar!” Sir Arthur pushed his sword harder into my neck.
“Sir Arthur!” Margaret yelled. “That is the High Prince of Fairwitch Isle. He’s not lying.”
The knight paused, his sword drawing back and relieving some of the pressure on my throat. “I want to believe you, Lady Margaret, but I’m afraid he might be tricking you as well.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I mumbled.
“Then why is a portrait of him hanging in this room?” Margaret stepped aside, and Sir Arthur’s head snapped in the direction of the painting of me.
“That doesn’t look like him,” he said.
“I beg your pardon?” I asked.
Sir Arthur studied me from behind his helmet, the gap for the eyes completely dark, which I’d always found a little creepy. “Your hair is a mess. Your cheeks are all flushed. Your eyes are red. Nothing like that handsome bloke in the painting.”
My ego was really taking a hit today. “That is me. I am him. I just woke up. Give me an hour and I’ll be identical to that painting.”
“Sir Arthur, this is our prince,” Margaret said. “I wouldn’t get something like that wrong.”
He hesitated a moment before relenting and pulling back his sword. “I apologize for the misunderstanding, Your Majesty.”
“It’s okay. You may return to your post in the foyer.”
“Yes! There are real intruders to be found!” He marched off, his armor clinking as he went, the doors to my bedroom shutting behind him.
My head thunked against the plush, cushioned headboard. What a way to wake up. Ceri’s warm, plump lips flashed in my mind, and my cock twitched. Especially after I was having such a good dream.
“I wanted to let you know this morning went well with Mr. Morgane.”
I jolted. I’d forgotten Margaret was still in the room. I cleared my throat. “Thank you for doing that.” I’d fallen asleep on the rooftop next to Ceri last night, waking up to the sound of yowling.
Meera had been catching a mouse because the fish hadn’t been enough for her. I’d asked Meera to portal Ceri into her bed, and I’d gone back to the castle and arranged for our chefs to have scones and tea delivered and for Margaret to be there when Ceri’s father awoke.
I knew better than anyone how important routine was for him, and I also knew Ceri was tired and needed rest. After the events of yesterday, I just wanted her to be able to sleep in without interruptions.
I normally would’ve delivered the scones and tea myself, but I was also exhausted and desperately needed to shut the world out.
“So he was all right?” I asked.
“Oh, yes. We had such a good chat.” She paused. “Well, it was mainly me talking and him listening, but he seemed to delight in my stories.”
“Gossip,” I coughed into my fist.
Margaret narrowed her eyes. “That was very kind of you to send me to Mr. Morgane so that Ceri could rest.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “And how do you know that’s why I sent you?”
“I can’t think of any other reason.”
I huffed. “Because I normally visit with Mr. Morgane so Ceri can rest, and I wasn’t able to be there this morning.”
“Because of that situation?” Margaret gestured to the pillow still sitting over my lap.
I grabbed it and threw it at the painting, and Margaret shrieked. “You are dismissed!” I called as she dashed away.
Godwitches be. I sank back down into bed, finally able to get some peace, and all I could think about was that dream.
I hadn’t dreamt of anything so vivid in a long, long time. The tonic did its job so well that it didn’t just numb me in the waking world but also the sleeping one.
I stiffened. The tonic. I shouldn’t have had a dream like that when I’d taken a dose yesterday.
Maybe whatever that apothecary had given me had been defective, but I’d felt the immediate effects.
I reached for my nightstand and opened the drawer, pulling out the little vial and studying the medicine.
It looked the same as it always did. My brother had been a healer long enough for me to suspect what was happening.
It had already happened once. When I’d first discovered this tonic and started taking it, I’d only needed a quarter of this vial every month.
Then a quarter turned into half a vial, and half a vial turned into a full vial.
To keep numbing myself, I was going to have to get even more, which was becoming harder and riskier.
I had to stop this. No matter how careful I tried to be, my actions were reckless, and that had been proven with yesterday’s visit to Amaria.
I couldn’t even think about Lor, about the butcher seeing the floating fish.
Those were feelings I couldn’t manage. I could barely handle thinking about that dream. That fucking dream where Ceri was mine. One more small sip. I’d take one small sip and then I’d stick to my usual dose for the rest of the month. I could do this.
I uncorked the vial and took a sip, already feeling better as my body relaxed back into the bed and all the tension bled from me.
It was just a dream. And I had just been imagining Lor yesterday.
It wasn’t him. The brotherhood wasn’t following me.
They didn’t know where we were. We’d get through these stupid trials, Castle would choose my queen finally, and everything would be okay.
I looked at the vial, feeling that same mixture of relief and disgust I always felt when I took the tonic. I threw it into my drawer and slammed it shut right as the door burst open.
“Does anyone knock?” I yelled, shooting up in bed, thankful my cock had finally calmed down, at least.
Wolfe stood in the doorway. “Morton sent me.”
I stiffened. “What’s happened?”
“The second trial has begun.”