“We aren’t staying here for the night.” Wolfe stood. “We’ll travel as much as we can before it’s fully dark.”
Cillian beamed at me, ignoring the other man. “And tonight we’ll feast on stale bread that might chip your teeth and cheese that might possibly make you pass out from the smell.”
“Great,” I said weakly, not sure my heart could handle all of this being some lie.
I so desperately wanted to feel safe again, and right now, out here in this wide-open world, I felt far too exposed. I just wanted to get to this kingdom and curl up somewhere with a book so I could lose myself and forget everything.
“I’m already wishing I’d been crushed under that tower,” Morton mumbled, his wings rustling.
I hoped I was making the right decision, but really, it was the only decision I could make, and somehow that made it all the more depressing.
CHAPTER 4
Wolfe
“You mean to tell me that you eat a book and then you know its entire contents from the first sentence to the last?” Cillian asked as we walked along the winding dirt road, stark green hills surrounding us and a fierce wind blowing that made Niamh tighten her cloak. Well, my cloak. I’d given it to her the first day of our travels—only because I hoped if she was warm, she’d walk faster. She was painfully slow, and at this rate, we’d never get back to Fairwitch. If she’d stop talking long enough to focus on walking, maybe she’d be faster.
Morton, the little pink bookwyrm, raised the upper half of its body from Niamh’s shoulder and spread out his wings. “Don’t worry, I would never ruin a book. I regurgitate the pages and the book is like new again.”
Cillian cocked his head. “That’s kind of gross but also very useful.”
Niamh smiled brightly. Over the last few days of traveling, she’d slowly opened up, no longer as wary or defensive as she had been that first day—well, not toward Cillian, anyway.
“It’s incredibly useful.” The wind blew her long red hair into her face, still coated in dust, and she attempted to tuck the wild strands behind her ears to no avail. “And also, yes, it is gross to watch him vomit the pages back out. Though I have gotten used to it.” She flicked the bookwyrm affectionately. “And it’s actually oddly satisfying seeing all the pieces of the pages come together again.”
My hands fisted by my sides. She talked so damn much. Always prattling on and not remotely aware of her surroundings.
“Watch the hole, Cillian,” I called over my shoulder, and Cillian looked down right before he was about to step in a hole in the road.
If Niamh hadn’t been talking his ear off, maybe he’d be paying more attention. Now I was not only stuck with one person who had absolutely no awareness of their surroundings but two.
They continued chattering about books, not even worried that Cillian had almost broken his ankle. Niamh was sharing some story about Morton eating a book so big he looked as round as a cannonball.
I wondered what godwitch—or demi godwitch—was responsible for his magic. Maybe one of the demi godwitches of learning. There were several of them that I’d read about in school, all the demigods born from their powerful parents’ trysts with mortals.
I’d never heard of a bookwyrm before, but then again, there were all sorts of magical creatures, objects, and plants that were being discovered every day, lands and kingdoms warring over the most magical of them. Morton’s ability was interesting but likely not powerful enough to cause a war.
It was the most powerful of objects, ones like that tower, that people would go to war for. I wondered how Niamh had found the tower, how no one else had infiltrated it in the three years she’d been there, but she hadn’t seemed keen to give us many details about her past, which made me suspicious. The brotherhood had spies everywhere that they used to infiltrate kingdoms like ours. Niamh didn’t strike me as the brotherhood type, with her sunny disposition and inability to fight, but it could be a ruse. I hoped the prince knew what he was doing, inviting her to our home. Trusting her with the secretsof Fairwitch Isle, secrets that had kept our home safe from conquerors like the brotherhood for centuries.
Cillian said something that made Niamh giggle, and I shook my head. Those two were a perfect match so far, sunshine and sunshine, laughing and telling stories and chattering nonstop. Trying to ignore them and keep us safe was giving me a damn headache.
“What is that tattoo?” Niamh pointed to Cillian’s collarbone, the edge of his golden tattoo peeking out.
Cillian cleared his throat. “Nothing. Just a tattoo of a key.”
My gaze dipped to my own matching tattoo on my chest, hidden beneath my shirt. He was going to have to tell her the truth about all of this eventually. Before she found out herself.
“You’re unusually grumpy today,” Cillian said, catching up to me and leaving Niamh and Morton behind us as theyoohed andaahed over a rock that someone had carved into the earth godwitch. Their body resembled a tree trunk, its hair made of leaves and berries. Morton slithered up their arms, which were like tree branches. It was an impressive carving, and I wondered if someone had done it as an offering, hoping by carving the godwitch’s likeness, they’d be granted safety on their travels from any mischievous earth magic.
“I bet this is an offering,” Morton said from the godwitch’s shoulder, echoing my thoughts.
“Probably.” Niamh clapped. “Oh, let’s pick some flowers nearby and leave them as offering to the earth godwitch.”
“Good idea!” Morton said.
I sent a side glance to Cillian.
“Oh, come on.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “Everything is going great so far. You know, I actually don’t think I’d mind marrying her. She’s a little older than me.” He leaned over. “Thirty-five, but you know, I like that about her. A mature woman.”
