She shoves a napkin into one of my hands and then stands there holding out the filled cup expectantly. Her eyes are wide with unspoken words.
I take the cup from her slowly. The napkin is, in fact, not a napkin but a folded note.
“I will leave you to get dressed, Princess. Unless you need assistance today?”
“Um, no. I’m okay. Thank you.” The instant she’s out the door, I discard the unwanted tea and unfold the note.
Lila,
I know you’ll be happy to learn I’ve located your long, lost friend. I’m unsure whom you would want to share the joyous news with, so I felt it would be best to communicate it to you privately. I’ve made arrangements for a brief meeting for the two of you tomorrow. I believe you’ll need one final fitting withthe seamstress. Dahlia will come to get you in the morning and bring you to me.
Cillian has found Celyste.
Each time I reread the note, the smallest amount of pressure eases and I feel the tiniest spark of hope. Hope for what, I’m not entirely sure, but hope nonetheless.
The next morning,I’m up and dressed at sunrise after barely sleeping. I sit, bouncing my legs at the end of my bed unsure what else to do with myself. A light knock fills my room, and my heart jumps into my throat.
I hurry to the door and crack it open. It takes everything in me not to rush out the door the moment I see Dahlia.
“Princess Nissa,” Dahlia says, “I apologize for bothering you on your day of rest, but it’s time for your final fitting. Theseamstressis waiting for you.”
“Yes, of course,” I say with a regal nod, playing my role.
I silently follow her down the halls until we’re in an older part of the castle. The servants’ area isn’t kept up as well. There is no art on the walls, and smaller doors line the narrow halls. We make another turn, and she takes us down a thin, empty passageway that ends in a heavy door. When she shoves it open, sunlight floods in from outside.
As my eyes adjust to the bright sun, Cillian is pushing off a castle wall. Dahlia gives him, then me, a quick nod and shuffles back inside with a wave and smile. The door slams shut behind her, and I flinch.
Cillian smirks at me with a silent laugh. “A little jumpy?”
“You found her?” I roll my eyes. I’m not in the mood for jokes.
“Yes, she isn’t a Scriptor. She was an upcoming priestess assisting Halcya at the time of our births. When the Royal Scriptor couldn’t leave my mother’s birthing room she volunteered to go record the Daughter of Gaia's birth in his absence.”
“So she is a priestess?” I consider the new information, “Makes sense that she would have knowledge of the prophecies.”
Cillian nods. “She was, but she left years ago. We should hurry,” he says, expression turning more serious. “We have a long trip ahead.”
I blink at him slowly a couple times. “Can’t you mistwalk us there?”
“To start, but we may have to do some searching for her. I don’t want to waste any time.”
I don't want to waste any time.
A shiver runs through me. The coronation is in three days.
I must not hide my reaction very well. His eyes soften, and he takes a step towards me, lifts a hand to my cheek. I lean into his warmth, into his comfort.
“I’ll do my best to get you answers before you leave” His words are barely a breath on the wind.
My eyes shoot to his in a panic. I move to take a step away, but he grabs my wrist. His grip is gentle but firm. When I pull, he drops his hold and enfolds me in his arms. Just like every time we touch, my magic is there, but it’s only a faint echo of the usual rush.
Even my magic showing caution at the potential risk.
“You don’t need to lie anymore. I’ve known since I saw you in Terrania after the memorial.”
I stare at the hard chest. When I don’t answer, he tips up my chin. I swallow and roll my shoulders back slightly. “I can’t marry Caspien.”
I tense in anticipation of his response. Did he even find Celyste? Is he going to tell them and lock me away until the coronation? His eyes search mine as I stare up at him in defiance, waiting on whatever he’s going to do.
