Chapter 46
Cillian
Istepped back, not understanding what was happening. I wasn’t sure anyone did. We all stared at Lor in shock, including the members of the brotherhood on either side of him.
“Absolutely not,” Liadan said, pointing the axe at him.
“That seems like a really bad idea,” Marsten said.
Meera flashed her pearly teeth. “We can’t let him defile our queen with his mouth.”
I shoved a hand through my hair, gaze locked with Lor’s. “What happens if he kisses her? Does that mean he’ll become high prince or will he just free her?”
Everyone looked at each other, no one sure of the answer. I could kiss the statue if it meant breaking some curse, but if it bound me to said statue . . . I looked at Ceri. I couldn’t take that risk. I wouldn’t.
“What did that story say again?” I asked. “The little girl. She kissed the statue and it came to life, and then what?”
Marsten shrugged. “It’s just a children’s story. I think . . .” He opened the book, flipping to the final page. “The little girl found a home with the woman,” he said slowly, “who became like the mother the orphan girl never had. They lived happily ever after. Together.”
I swallowed thickly.
“I’ll do it,” Lor said again, his voice hoarse and low, lower than I remembered.
“Why?” I asked. “Why would you do that for us?”
“For you,” he corrected. “I would do it for you, little brother.”
“Don’t.” This was too much, too confusing. I was filled with too many emotions. I couldn’t handle them. Ceri’s hand tightened around mine, and I took slow, steady breaths.
Lor’s dark eyes welled with tears. “I’ve caused you so much suffering, and if I can ease some of that by doing this, then I will.”
Leena shook her head vehemently, but he ignored her.
Golden swirls appeared above his head.
“What’s happening now?” Lila asked, a whine to her voice as the golden swirls whirled faster.
Lor’s eyes rolled upward, and both of his companions looked on in horror as the magic formed a crown over his head.
Everyone stared in shock, mouths agape.
“Did Castle just choose him as high prince?” Clio asked.
Leena struggled against her bindings, trying to get Lor’s attention, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze. He didn’t even look surprised that the fucking crown—my crown—was hovering over his head.
“He’s the enemy.” Liadan stepped forward, axe pointing at Lor’s heart. “We can’t let him kiss her; we can’t risk it.”
“I don’t know if he is the enemy,” Ceri said slowly. She turned to me. “Cillian, he had a chance to stop me from finding you after I escaped from here. To hurt me or kill me. But he didn’t do any of those things. He asked about you, asked how you were feeling, and then he let me go.”
Hope flared inside me, small and flickering, like a flame that could go out at any moment. But with Ceri’s words, it was there. Lor’s companions stared at him in shock, and he stared straight ahead, as if refusing to look at them.
“Wait a minute,” Lila said, eyes widening. “That’s why we overpowered you so easily. You let us. He fell into Ronan a second before he could slit my throat. From there we were able to overtake them.” She pointed at Lor. “You did that on purpose. You didn’t want to hurt us.”
I took a step forward, letting go of Ceri’s hand, thinking about all the times I’d dreamt of Lor in my drugged states. Could it really have been him? Part of me still doubted. “How can I trust you?”
“It was me who called for Margaret,” he said, and I stiffened. “In your bedroom, when you were on your bed, writhing and sick and in immense pain.”
Ceri gasped. “I thought you’d called for her, Cillian.”
Lor couldn’t have known a detail so intimate, so random. He couldn’t have known unless he was there. I’d never actually made him up.
His male companion—Ronan, Lila had called him—shook his head emphatically, muffled yells coming from his gagged mouth.
“I was also in the meadow,” Lor said.
“The meadow?” Ceri asked.
I hadn’t told her all the sordid details of my overdose, but it was yet another detail Lor couldn’t have known unless he was there.
“I never imagined you, did I? You were there looking for out for me.”
Lor nodded. “Always.”
Ronan sagged, head hanging, and Leena went completely still, silent.
Lor finally looked at her, the golden crown still hovering over his head. “He’s my brother, Leena. I couldn’t let him die. This is my home. Or it was.”
She stared at Lor like she’d never seen him before, like she didn’t know who was speaking to her.
“You’ve been spying this whole time,” I said. “For the brotherhood.”
“Yes,” Lor said, and everyone sucked in sharp breaths.
“Did not see that coming,” Marsten murmured.
Tears streamed down Leena’s cheeks, and Ronan’s face had gone ashen.
I walked forward and crouched, putting a hand on Lor’s shoulder and squeezing tight. “Welcome home.”
Pain filled his eyes, so much sadness in his gaze that I didn’t understand. I gestured for the axe, and Liadan hesitated before handing it to me. I grabbed Lor and hauled him to his feet, then in one quick swipe, I cut the binding around his hands.
“It’s you,” I said, staring at the familiar crown.
The one I’d seen in the mirror hundreds of times.
“Castle truly wants you to be its high prince.” It felt so right, seeing it hovering over him.
I was filled with an overwhelming feeling, an instinct, that it belonged there.
That it had never belonged to me. Castle didn’t hate me, but I had never been its first choice.
I thought back to when I’d been chosen, shortly after Lor disappeared, how I’d felt so wrong wearing that crown, holding that title, and the truth hit me like a thousand bolts.
“Castle has always wanted you. I was just a placeholder until you returned.” I whirled to point a finger at the statue. “And that is your queen.”
Leena shook her head fiercely as Lor turned to face her. “It’s going to be okay,” he said quietly. “You can do this. You can take over for me. I’ve trained you well.”
I wondered what that meant, doubt flickering through me as Lor took slow, steady steps toward the statue.
He arrived in front of it. “I’ve felt it, too,” he said over his shoulder as he gazed down at the statue, running a finger over its cheek.
“I’ve felt this inexplicable pull to Fairwitch Isle that I’ve ignored.
But once I set foot inside the castle, it was like it was begging me to come home, to claim my title.
Not a voice in my head, exactly, but a feeling, a feeling that this was what I had to do. ”
I wanted to ask why he hadn’t come sooner, but now wasn’t the time.
“Are we really going to let him do this?” Liadan asked.
“I don’t think we have a choice if we want out of here,” Siobhan said. “And I don’t know about you, but I have no desire to die here with you all.”
“No one is dying,” I said.
Lor stood there, staring down at the statue, and he took a shuddering breath.
“Is he going to do it or . . .” Marsten muttered and Meera shushed him.
No one spoke—it seemed like no one was even breathing. We all stared at Lor’s back, waiting for him to take action, to see if this far-fetched, impossible theory was true. Ceri once again clutched my hand with a vise-like grip.
Lor bent, and someone sucked in a sharp breath. Then my older brother hunched over, his lips close to the statue’s, but paused. I wondered what was going through his mind. I could barely handle all the thoughts whirling in my own brain.
His back rose and fell with a deep exhale, and then he bent all the way over, pressing his lips to the statue’s mouth. We all froze, waiting with bated breath.
Nothing happened.
Lor straightened, one crown still hovering over his head, the other crown still hanging over the statue.
“Is it too soon to ask if we have any other theories?” Marsten asked.
So we’d been wrong. My stomach dropped like a stone, and I looked over to Ceri, who wore a look of concern.
“What now?” she asked, looking behind her at the door. It was still shut, with no handle or any way out of this room.
“We try something else.” I gestured to Lor. “Clearly Castle has chosen its new high prince. We just need to brainstorm.”
Lor didn’t move, just stood there in front of the statue, staring down at it while Ceri tugged me toward the back of the room, away from the others.
“How are you feeling?” she whispered. “This is a lot to take in.”
“Honestly? I have no fucking clue,” I said. “I can’t believe he’s been a spy this whole time, but I also don’t really understand who he was spying for. It’s not like he was relaying information to us. Helping us.”
“Maybe he was and we just didn’t know it?” Ceri asked.
I shook my head. “I have no idea.”
She bit her lip. “I believe him, Cillian. He was so worried about you when I ran into him while trying to escape. You were his single focus. He wanted to know that you were okay. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you when you told me you saw him, but I do now. He’s been visiting you somehow.”
I nodded. “I know. He said things, knew things he couldn’t have known unless he was there.
” Lor’s pinched, concerned face flashed in my mind, and I remembered the way he hovered over me in my bed chamber when I was out of my mind with sickness.
That had really been him. But how? I looked up at him.
I supposed we had time to discuss it all, though I had no idea how the rest of Fairwitch Isle would react to his return.
By now everyone knew he was part of the brotherhood, and though I might have believed him, I wasn’t sure others would.
Either way, if we ever got out of here, we were going to have a lot of hard conversations ahead of us.
A crack split the air, and everyone jumped back.
“Is this place collapsing on us?” Clio cried, clutching Siobhan while Lila and Liadan joined hands and Meera leapt onto Marsten’s shoulder.
Lor stepped back from the statue. “No,” he said. “It’s not.”
Chunks of stone broke from the statue, falling to the ground with a crash. Dust rose in the air as more pieces continued to break off.
Lor didn’t move. He just stared at the faerie queen.
“Is it breaking apart?” Siobhan asked. “Did we destroy it with our wrong guess?”
I took a step forward, studying the statue. “I don’t think so.” I pointed toward the stone calf, where a flash of bronze skin peeked through.
“What is that?” Lila asked with a shaky voice.
“I think it’s her leg,” I said.
The stone continued to fracture and shed, and each time a piece dropped, a loud crack boomed through the little room. Slowly, more of her leg was revealed—a thick, smooth calf.
Siobhan’s hand floated to her mouth. “It’s truly her.”
“Our queen has returned,” Meera said, and for the first time since I’d met the cat, there was no sarcasm or boredom in her tone—just awe.
Lor still didn’t move, and our prisoners’ gazes stayed transfixed on the scene, both with wide, terrified eyes.
“Is she a danger to anyone?” I asked. The only thing I knew of this ancient faerie was that she was a warrior and a skilled killer. “What if she wakes up in a rage? Hurts us all?”
“She wouldn’t do that,” Clio snapped over her shoulder. “Aoife was skilled but kind, benevolent. She only ever wanted the best for the Fair Folk and humans. Her war was with the godwitches, no one else.”
“Will all of you shut up?” Lor’s voice came out in a growl.
The stone had fully fallen away from her leg, and she brought it up, bending at the knee and resting her sandaled foot on the table where she lay.
A translucent periwinkle dress flowed from her waist over her leg, falling around it in layers of fabric, a high slit showing her russet skin, dark and smooth without a single scar or mark.
By now, Siobhan, Clio, and Meera were all bent into kneeling positions, heads tipped down. Ceri and I looked at each other, and we knelt as well. The others followed suit.
Both her legs were free, and the stone continued to fall from her waist to her stomach, up to her breasts, and then her head. The final piece fell, and I could only see parts of her with Lor blocking the way, but she slowly sat up, golden eyes taking us all in, not saying a word.
“Our queen,” Meera said. “Our queen has returned.”