Chapter 43
Cillian
Iran toward the door as Ceri barreled into me, both of us colliding as I kissed her head, her face, her lips, lingering there as I tasted her and reveled in the feeling of her in my arms again.
It was short-lived, though. Ceri pulled away from me quickly to glance around the room, no doubt searching for her father.
“You’d think they’d been separated for months with how they’re acting,” Marsten mumbled from behind us.
“Ceri.” Mr. Morgane walked toward his daughter, and I let her go as she turned toward him and gave him a tight hug. He buried his face in her curls. “Oh, Ceri. I was so worried about you.”
“I know. I tried as hard as I could to get back to you. Have you eaten?”
“I did have some crackers while I was speaking with Margaret.”
“Did you drink something?”
He gestured toward the table, where a half-empty teacup sat. “Cillian made tea as soon as he arrived.”
She squinted at him. “Have you taken your medicine?”
“Yes,” I said from behind Ceri. “We took care of him.”
She studied her father in wonder. “You’re okay. You’re—you’re talking and walking and”—she looked over his shoulder—“drinking tea?”
“It did help calm my nerves a bit.” He nodded toward me. “So did this young man. And that one.” He jabbed a thumb at Marsten, who waved.
Ceri whirled around, opening her mouth, then closing it, then opening it again. “I . . . thank you,” she said to me, her eyes filling with tears.
“No thanks needed. We’re just glad you’re back. You’re safe. Where have you been? Did you see the other contestants?”
“The brotherhood is here,” Ceri burst out, not answering any of my questions.
I went completely still, the breath sucked out of me at those words.
“What?” Margaret shrieked from the painting hanging over the hearth, making Ceri jump. “The brotherhood?”
“Margaret, what are you doing here?” I asked.
“I was coming by to check on Mr. Morgane. I figured he must be having a hard time without Ceri.”
“I’m managing,” Ceri’s father said to the painting. “But I wouldn’t mind a little gossip to distract me.”
“Apparently I’m not the one with big news.” Margaret swallowed. “The brotherhood is really here?”
Marsten sighed. “Well, that puts a damper on this first date.”
“Here as in outside our border?” I asked, suddenly feeling queasy. “Do you think they’ve found us?”
Ceri’s expression darkened. “I know they have. They’ve breached our border.”
“Fuck.” A chill skittered down my spine. “Where are they? How many of them? How did you escape?”
“I don’t have time to go through it all. It’s a long story, but Cillian, we have to get to them before the brotherhood hurts them.”
“Who?” I asked.
“The other contestants.”
“So you were with them?” Marsten stood.
“Yes, and we have to get back to them. They’re fighting the brotherhood as we speak, trying to keep them from gaining further entry into the isle.”
I put my hand to my head, not able to imagine those women fighting the brotherhood and having any sort of chance. Godwitches, they’d likely be dead by the time we found them.
“That sounds very dangerous.” Mr. Morgane’s face paled. “Ceri, maybe you should let Cillian and the royal guard handle this. Stay here with me.”
“I can’t.” She turned to face her father and took his hands.
“Papa, I know you’re scared of losing me.
But in the last few weeks, this town has rallied around us.
Every time I’ve faced a challenge or had to be away from you, others have shown us how much they care about you and me.
All this time, I pushed everyone away. I didn’t show anyone how much we could use a community, a village, because I was afraid they wouldn’t care.
” She nodded at me, and I shot her a small smile.
“I didn’t realize we already had our village, and in the last few weeks, it’s grown.
I don’t ever want anything to separate us, but if the absolute worst happens, you’re not alone. You’ll never be alone.”
Margaret fanned her eyes. “Of course he won’t.”
“Never,” Marsten agreed.
“Absolutely not.” I stepped forward, nodding at Mr. Morgane, whose own eyes had gone teary.
He took a deep inhale, then gave a sharp nod. “You go do what you need to. I’ll be waiting here for you.”
“Maybe I’ll just stay behind and keep him company,” Marsten said.
“No.” Ceri stepped forward. “You need to come with us. We need help until the royal guard arrives.” She looked at the book lying on the couch. “And I think we might need that.”
“I’ll alert the royal guard!” Margaret said. “But where should they go?”
“To the east side of the castle, on the very far end, at the border. There’s a door there, and that’s where we’ll be.”
“Let’s not waste any more time.” I moved toward the door, but Ceri reached out and grabbed hold of my arm.
“Cillian.” She bit her lip. “There’s something else you need to know.”
Oh godwitches, had someone already died? “Tell me,” I said, not sure what could be so important that she had to tell me right now.
“Lor,” she said. “Your brother is here.”
I lost all ability to speak for a moment, my tongue heavy, my throat closing, my chest tight. I sagged against the wall next to the door, my hand involuntarily going to my pocket for the vial that was no longer there. I squeezed my fist tight.
“Ceri, that can’t be,” Mr. Morgane said. “Lorcan Wolfgang? Back home?”
“And with the enemy,” she said, sympathy flashing in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Cillian. I can’t believe he’d actually come back here with them.”
I swallowed thickly.
“I just wanted you to know in case we walk in there and you’re . . . put in a difficult position.”
“Right.” Anger filled me. How dare my brother come back here like this? I wrenched the door open. “Let’s go.”