Chapter 32
Ceri
Ipaced in the kitchen, biting my thumbnail. I’d spoken to Enid, who’d confirmed that Cillian needed rest for at least a few weeks before someone pronounced life-altering feelings that might send his emotions into a tailspin.
So instead of racing to the castle to tell him how I felt, here I was, in my apartment, still not sure about any of this.
Yes, I had feelings for Cillian. I’d always had them, but I’d convinced myself for so long that I didn’t, and now it was hard to believe in just a few short weeks I could reveal them.
It was like my heart was simultaneously breaking for what Cillian was going through and blooming with hope for what could be.
If I had the courage to admit it to him, that was.
“Ah, Ceri, dear. Are you all right?” My father appeared in the doorway of his bedroom.
“Yes!” I said and gestured to the round kitchen table. “Why don’t you sit, Papa?”
I bustled over to the hearth, grabbing hot pads and lifting the kettle from its hook. Father watched in silence as I poured us each a cup of tea and grabbed a basket of biscuits, setting them on the table between us.
We sipped our tea while my father eyed me. “You stayed up rather late last night.”
“Marsten and Meera came to visit,” I said. “I think they might be coming weekly now for wine and cheese night.”
“That sounds lovely,” Father said.
The scent of jasmine rose from my teacup, and I grabbed a biscuit, nibbling on it.
“Did you three talk about anything interesting? Any good gossip?”
“Cillian is awake,” I said brightly, noting that Father didn’t look surprised by this information.
“Is he?” He took a longer sip of his tea. “Interesting. Interesting.”
I raised a brow. “That’s all you have to say about Cillian being awake? Did Margaret visit you already and share the news?”
Those two had become fast friends over the last week. Margaret had been here almost every day, chatting with my father.
The smallest hint of pink flushed his cheeks. My father never blushed, which made me sit up straighter and set down my cup.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
He cleared his throat. “Yes, of course. So tell me more about this visit with Marsten and Meera. What did you talk about?”
As if I didn’t have enough going on, now I had to worry about how strange my father was acting.
“Just this and that. You know . . . things. Marsten tried on a new dress, and he looked fabulous, so I think I’ve convinced him to get a new wardrobe.”
“Good, good,” Father said. “Anything else? Maybe you all talked about Cillian and his condition? Or other things about Cillian and you, perhaps?”
My mouth dropped open. “Oh my godwitches,” I said. “Were you eavesdropping?”
“I was not.” Father pounded a fist on the table. “Or maybe I was . . . just a little. Margaret has been giving me good tips.”
“Papa!”
He winced. “I didn’t mean to. I was coming down to give you your shawl and make sure you didn’t catch a cold.”
My irritation melted away in an instant. “I was just fine, Papa.”
“Ceri, dear.” His eyes shifted back and forth, and he suddenly looked so uncomfortable.
Oh no, what had he heard? The confession I’d made to Marsten and Meera rang in my ears.
“Cillian loves you, too, you know,” he said.
I didn’t think I could be any more surprised. “How do you know that?”
“Well, I don’t think I’m the reason he’s here practically every day.” He cleared his throat. “I also am fairly certain yours is the only room in Fairwitch Isle he sneaks into.”
My cheeks heated. “Oh, godwitches.”
“What I’m saying is that man loves you. I’ve seen it for years, and I thought maybe you two had decided to just remain friends for your own reasons.” His voice shook. “But now I understand.”
My hand went to cover his. “I will never leave you.”
“I know that,” he said, meeting my gaze, voice suddenly fierce. “I have no doubt, Ceri, my dear. You’ve only ever taken care of me. I do worry,” he said. “But not about Cillian and you. You two can and will figure it out.”
“How could you possibly know that?”
“Because when you love someone, that’s what you do. Don’t be afraid to go after what you want. Not because of me. Not because of anyone. I know I have my difficulties . . .” He swallowed thickly. “But I don’t want you to suffer because of them.”
“I don’t,” I said quickly. “I don’t. I love our dress shop. I love our little life. I have no interest in becoming queen and leading Fairwitch Isle. There are so many complications between Cillian and me, and it’s always been easier to just . . . not talk about it. To not make things messy.”
“But is it worth it?” Father asked. “That man numbed himself to all feelings, and I think I know why. Your friends are right. You have to tell him the truth.”
I swallowed thickly. Father had confirmed what I’d also thought. That Cillian had taken that heartstopper to numb his feelings for me, and it broke my heart. “And what if we can’t make it work?” What if he started taking it again because we couldn’t find a way?
“You will. If you have to live in the castle, I will be okay here. Margaret comes almost every day. You can visit me daily.”
He was lying, and I knew it. My father required full-time care, and I wanted to be here for him when he needed me. But everyone was right. Cillian and I couldn’t keep lying to ourselves and each other. We had to finally admit the truth.
“Okay, Papa,” I said, patting his hand.
He spread out his hands. “So what are you waiting for?”
I let out a laugh, thinking about Cillian, how he needed to heal. “A few things, Papa. Just a few.” Soon. Soon I would tell Cillian everything.