Chapter 26
Ceri
Igiggled as Cillian stood over me, arms folded across his chest, brows furrowed, and he did his best impression of his older brother.
“Me Wolfe. Me no talk. Me hate everyone.”
I lifted my mostly empty wine bottle into the air. “Except Niamh!”
He lowered his voice to a growl. “You no speak my wife’s name. Only me speak her name.”
I laughed so hard, my vision went sideways. “Oops!” I landed on the pillows and pushed myself back up to a seated position. “I think I’m a little drunk.”
Cillian gestured to the ice bucket, where more bottles of wine had appeared. “Not drunk enough.” He plucked out another bottle and uncorked it, drinking straight from it while I chanted.
“Go, go, go!”
Godwitches, this felt good. Margaret had said she’d stay with my father, so I figured why not? Why not get drunk as everything was falling apart around us? I wanted to fall apart, too, and there was no one else I’d rather do it with.
Cillian spit out some of the wine, laughing at my chanting as he put the bottle down. “Who should I do next?”
A very filthy thought entered my mind at that question, and I pressed my lips together, summoning all my self-control so I didn’t burst out with “me.” Maybe this had not been my brightest idea.
But Cillian’s body had been so hard and firm and delicious on top of mine, setting me on fire in a way I couldn’t handle. So I’d decided to get drunk and hope that numbed everything inside me.
It turned out I hadn’t gotten drunk in a very, very long time because instead of numbing all my feelings, they were spreading and making me itch with desire.
“Hello.” Cillian waved a hand in front of my face. “Ceri. Anyone in there?” His words slurred, and I attempted to swat away his hand but missed and lightly slapped his face.
“Sorry!” I clapped a hand over my mouth at Cillian’s widened eyes.
“Is it weird that I liked that?”
“Stop it,” I said.
He straightened. “Okay, okay. Who next?”
“Enid!” I said.
He grinned and adopted his best Enid accent, which was so lovely and lyrical. “Don’t touch that plant, now. It bites if you get too close, and I won’t save you if you’re stupid enough to mess with one of my plants.” He bowed, almost falling forward.
I clapped in delight. “You’re getting better at your Enid impression.”
Cillian had always been good with impressions, but he’d had trouble nailing down Enid’s accent.
“It turns out drunk me makes a very excellent Enid.” Cillian plopped down next to me, leaning against one of the fluffy pillows. “All right, I need a break. Cheese?” He picked up a small cube of white cheese and popped it into his mouth.
“Yes!” I pointed at him. “Excellent idea.” I grabbed a cracker and stuffed it into my mouth, both of us chewing and falling into a comfortable silence like we’d done so many times before.
The garden splayed out before our tent, bursting with flowers of all colors. Cillian reached over and brushed a thumb against the corner of my lip.
His finger was so warm and soft and gentle. I turned into his touch before I even knew what I was doing.
“You had something,” he said, but his finger lingered there, not moving.
“Is it gone?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said, staring at me with an intensity that was withering.
“That’s good.”
“Good,” he echoed, never breaking my gaze. “When was the last time we got this drunk?” His thumb started moving in a slow caress. I wasn’t sure if he knew he was doing it.
“I don’t know,” I said, tasting the lie.
“I do. I remember it in perfect detail,” he said. “It was a few years after I’d been crowned high prince. We were sitting in your living room. Your father was asleep in his bedroom, and the fire roared in the hearth.”
The heat of it had been so welcome against the wintry storm happening outside.
“Snowed in together,” Cillian murmured.
He couldn’t leave because the snow was piled high out our front door and wouldn’t budge. So we’d grabbed a few bottles of wine, much like today in this tent.
“Were you as drunk as I was that night?” I asked, hoping the answer would be yes.
He shook his head slowly, thumb still brushing the skin right by the corner of my mouth, and flutters erupted in my stomach.
“Right. So you must remember that night really well.”
“I do.”
I swallowed thickly. The morning after, I’d only remembered flashes from it, but those flashes had been enough to make me want to crawl into a hole and perish.
“Cillian,” I started, suddenly feeling much too sober for this.
“We sat just like this,” he said, tipping his head toward our touching knees.
His voice was low, this soft caress that I desperately wanted to lean into.
“I told you that you looked beautiful. The fire lit you in this glow that made your hair shiny golden, that lit your eyes so those flecks of yellow sparkled.”
I licked my lips, unable to look away from the hold his gaze had on me.
“And you leaned in,” he said. “I didn’t imagine that, right? You leaned in.”
I couldn’t lie. I wanted to, but I couldn’t, and I gave the slightest nod, throat growing thick and nerves setting me abuzz.
I had leaned in. The next morning, in the fog of my hangover, I’d remembered my lips hovering right over his, my hand running over his leg to his inner thigh. I’d always hoped he was as drunk as I was and unable to remember any of it, worried it would ruin our friendship.
“Cillian,” I started, knowing we were entering dangerous territory.
“Why?” he asked, voice rough. “Why did you lean in, Cerriwen?”
I wasn’t sure what I wanted more: to run away or to confess everything. Every sordid thought I’d ever pushed away. Every hope I’d dashed. Every touch and look that I’d mentally tucked into a treasure trove of memories I rarely allowed myself to think about.
“I think it’s my turn now. To lean in.” His lips moved toward mine, but he stopped before they pressed against my mouth, his breath warm, the scent of spiced wine permeating the air between us. “Are you going to meet me halfway?”
I wanted to. I’d barely allowed myself to believe it could ever happen, especially not after he became high prince.
Maybe it was the alcohol coursing through my blood, but all I knew was that my mouth was moving toward his, that his hand was threading through my curls and curving around the back of my head, that his other hand was tugging me onto his lap.
And that my body was screaming at me that it needed this. It needed him.
“Well, well, well. Look at these two lovebirds.”
Cillian and I split apart at the voice, our chests heaving and hair mussed—had I done that to his hair at some point? Godwitches, I didn’t even know.
I blinked at the gargoyles hovering in the air in front of our tent.
When they weren’t at their normal guard posts on either side of a door, I had a hard time telling them apart, but I was fairly certain it was Tal who spoke first.
“I thought you two were just friends,” the gargoyle said, pointing a talon at us.
“We are,” I said quickly.
“That didn’t look like any friends I’ve ever seen,” Barty muttered under his breath.
“What do you know about friends?” Tal asked, wings spread out behind him and flapping.
My stomach lurched, and I suddenly felt ill as I looked over at Cillian. From the look of horror on his face, I assumed he was feeling the same.
“Are you saying I have no friends?” Barty asked.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Oh my godwitches. We’d been about to kiss. Cillian’s hand covered his mouth, and he wouldn’t look at me. I needed him to look at me, to reassure me this would all be okay.
“And how many friends do you have?” Barty asked.
“Oh, many. Too many to even count.”
Cillian shot to a stand, swaying on his feet. “Well, this was a lovely afternoon, but I think the date is over now.”
He wouldn’t meet my gaze, and my heart cracked. This was what I’d been worried about. That we would take things too far and ruin our friendship, that we’d make a mistake and regret it. That I would lose my best friend.
“But there’s still so much wine and food.” Barty’s wings flapped behind him, and not for the first time, I wondered how these huge, heavy stone gargoyles could so effortlessly float in the air.
“Such a waste.” Tal tsked.
“Tell the servants,” Cillian stammered, so unusual for the well-spoken prince. “They’re welcome to finish whatever we didn’t eat.”
The gargoyles lifted into the air, voices calling out as they yelled there was free food in the garden.
I came to a stand on shaky legs and turned toward Cillian, needing to make this better.
“I’m sorry, Cerriwen,” he said in a quiet voice. “It was the wine, and maybe . . .” He shoved a hand through his hair. “Maybe something else. I don’t know. I shouldn’t have done that. You know, I don’t think I’m feeling too great after all. I should go rest.”
“I’m sorry too,” I said, and it was my second lie of the day. I wasn’t sorry. I’d wanted to kiss him, to wrap myself around him and feel what it would be like to have his body on mine.
“Are we okay?” he asked, and for the first time since we’d entered the tent, I noticed how red his eyes were, how a sheen of sweat covered his skin despite the pleasant breeze, how ashen his normally glowing skin looked.
Siobhan’s warning came flooding back to me all at once. Maybe it was the alcohol affecting him. Or maybe it was something else. After all, I’d seen Cillian drunk before, but I’d never seen him look like this.
“Yes,” I stammered. “But Cillian, do you need—”
Before I could get my question out, servants appeared in the gardens, heading straight toward the tent.
“I should go,” Cillian said, practically bolting.
I watched as his figure got farther away, a feeling in my gut that something had irreparably changed between us today, something we’d never get back.
“Oh, strawberries!” one of the servants said as she stepped into the tent and popped one into her mouth. “Don’t mind if I do,” she said through a mouthful.
Tears welled in my eyes. I needed to get out of here, and I was about to take a step, when she yelled, “Watch out!”
“What?” I froze, foot in the air.
A few other servants had filled the tent now, and one of them pointed.
“You were about to step on that glass vial. That would go right through your delicate slipper.”
I looked down at the little vial, noticing some blue liquid pooled in the bottom. It must have fallen out of Cillian’s pocket. Siobhan’s warning once again flashed in my mind.
I shook my head and bent over to pick it up, tucking it into the pocket of my dress. “Right. Thank you.” I started backing away. “Enjoy the food.”
I turned and hurried away, vial clutched tight in my hand. It was time to make a visit to our town healer.