Nineteen
NISSA
The guards must have sent word ahead. The doors are thrown open, Aiden on the castle steps. When Cillian sees me, he rushes down the stairs two at a time, taking long strides towards me. Caspien follows, his steps slower and his hands in his pocket.
The witch’s words echo in my mind. As if she were still whispering them into the wind from wherever she is now.
They have hidden so much.
Trust no one but the future king.
Then I hear another voice.You’re safe.
I stumble backwards a step. When Cillian reaches to steady me, I straighten on my own and move away from him.
“Nissa?” he says gently. His hand drops, but he continues to check me over for any outward injuries, face filled with concern
Everything happening around me slows, and all the voices drop to a white noise. Time seems to be moving in slow motion as I scan from person to person. Caspien is watching us closely, his eyes thinned to slits, taking in his brother’s focus on me. Isolde closes her eyes briefly, shaking her head, mouth tight. Her suspicions are undoubtedly confirmed.
Aiden is nonchalantly leaning against the castle wall, a small flame dancing between his fingers. He watches us with all-knowing eyes, raising a single brow at me, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.
My heart is a drum in my ears. Panic continues to fill my chest. Cillian says something else to me, but I don’t register his words.
Guardians from Solevara and Varethriel are watching both of us, some faces confused, some sympathetic. I lose the wind in my chest as I watch each person form an opinion on whatever is happening between Cillian and me.
But there is nothing happening. I’ve merely been caught up by the memories of our childhood and by what seems to be his selfless devotion to helping the Fae world. Nothing has happened.Nothing will happen. I won’t drag him through the mud just to turn around and leave.
I close my eyes for the briefest moment, blocking everyone out, before straightening my back and transforming into the princess I need to be in this moment. The sister, Nova needs me to be so I can get to the bottom of all of this.
Sound floods back to me like lightning striking, and Isolde’s shrill voice hits me, complaining about the dangers of Varethiel. With my mask firmly in place, I walk around Cillian towards my betrothed. Towards the future King of Castara, of the Two Kingdoms, of the Fae.
The one the witch said I could trust.
Sliding my hand into his, every nerve in my body fighting the idea, I look up from under my lashes. “Can we go home now?”
The acrid smellfrom smokewalking still in my nose, I throw the door to my room open. My body is shaking, as if it wants to rid me of everything happening. Of the pressure of the day, of spending time with the male who potentially killed my sister, of the whole lot of them who are lying to me.
I’m just not sure who that is yet, or about what.
As much as I feel like the witch was telling the truth, I can’t shake the feeling of wrongness I have after traveling with Caspien’s hands on me. Will his connection to Nova ever leave my mind?
He’s not your mate.
Another tremor racks my body, and I let out a small cry into the empty room. I try to calm myself, taking multiple deep breaths and still unable to get my thoughts straight. My little green wisp appears at my request, and I release a breath when Ophe’s voice fills the room transmitting through him.
“Tell me you are finally getting some and are calling with all the juicy details,” she whispers, deliberately keeping her voice quiet.
I should know better than to reach out to her this late. Her father will be furious if he hears her. I don’t want to cause her any issues. But at the same time, I need her. She’s all I have, for now.
“Let’s not use the word ‘juicy’ when discussinggetting some,” I say, releasing a broken laugh.
Silence stretches in the distance between us.
“Who are we returning to their element?” she finally asks. “I’m sure any number of these farm tools could be used as a weapon.”
There are rummaging sounds, like she is actually searching for some form of a weapon. Her blind support fills my lungs with a calming wind for the first time since I was dragged away from the crone in Varethiel.
“I can come.” Her voice softens when I don’t respond. “I can leave right now if you need me.”
