“You really don’t?—”
“I was ten years old,” she forged on, “and decided I wanted to go on a treasure hunt. I knew of all the magical items that existed in our world, and I wanted to find one of my very own. My parents were a little overprotective and didn’t like me wandering. Believe it or not, I was a rule follower. My parents were strict,” she said. “I hated the idea of disappointing my teacher or parents, so I came up with a plan. I told the teacher that our lesson on the magical properties of plants would be so much better if we had it outside and could actually touch and smell the plants he was teaching us about.”
I snorted, amused by the thought of this little redheaded girl manipulating her schoolteacher.
“Since I was one of his best students, he readily agreed to my plan, and off we went into the nearby forest to explore.”
A forest. That was interesting. There weren’t many forests in these parts, which meant she’d either come from the southern or eastern region of Aubergn, both heavily forested areas. I tucked that piece of information away.
“Once he was done with the lecture, Professor Birkinred said we were free to explore and journal about any plants we came across as long as we didn’t touch, eat, or take them. He was going to give us half an hour, which was plenty of time for me to enact my plan.”
“The treasure hunt?” I asked as a flock of sheep walked across the road in front of us.
“The treasure hunt,” she agreed. “After wandering, not too far, of course, I spotted a pink flower in the middle of the forest, the only pink flower in a sea of red and yellow and orange. I knew it had to be special.”
“And was it?” I asked, unable to help myself.
Her lips twitched. “It was. But it wasn’t the flower itself that had magical properties. When I approached it, I realized the flower wasn’t pink at all. There was a worm wrapped around it, and that was the pink I’d noticed. I’d never seen a pink worm before. It opened its eyes and said hello, then reached out, snatched the journal from my hand, devoured it, and promptly summarized everything that I’d written inside.”
“Morton?” I asked, looking at the pink worm chattering away to Cillian, his stomach bulging, no doubt from the book the prince had fed to him. “This is the story of how you found Morton?”
Her smile grew. “It is. A little pink treasure, and he’s been with me ever since.”
“You took him from his home? From his family?” I asked, thinking of my other brother, who’d been taken from us.
At that, her smile disappeared. “No.” She shook her head. “I’d never take anyone from their home. To lose a home, it’s... well, it’s one of the worst things that can happen to someone.”
Her voice carried so much sadness that I wondered what had happened to her home, what had been so bad that it had forced her to run to that tower and lock herself inside. Another piece of information to tuck away, to help build a full picture of this woman my prince wanted to marry.
“He was all alone, you see. He woke up one day and didn’t have anyone. He just knew he was hungry, but he wasn’t sure for what, so he wandered into a town and spotted a store full of books. His stomach immediately grumbled, and he knew that’s what he wanted to eat. But the bookshop owner didn’t take kindly to him devouring his books and chased him out with broom. Of course he spit them all back up, but it was too late, and he’d already been forced out of town.That’s when I found him, and he asked if he could come home with me.”
It had been kind of her to take in the little wyrm, and something about the story softened my regard toward her. “I’m glad you found him.”
New magical objects sprouted every day. Creatures being born, plants being grown, metals emerging. No one knew if there was any end to the magic, if one day the magic would be all dried up, that it would cease to exist.
“Me too,” she said. “I’d be very lonely without Morton. I can’t imagine having no one to talk to.”
I glanced at her out of the side of my eye, annoyed by how much that resonated with my own experiences. Guarding my brother was necessary, but it did come with sacrifices. I didn’t have time for friends or family, and I sensed Niamh had surmised that from being around us over the last few days. “I don’t need a lesson on friends,” I said, voice sharp.
“That’s not—” she started, but I held up my hand.
“You don’t know me,” I said.
“Yes, well, that’s generally what happens when one refuses to talk,” she bit back. “I wasn’t trying to teach you a lesson. I was just telling a story since you refused to do so. It’s called being friendly.”
“I don’t have friends,” I growled.
“Shocking,” she muttered.
“And I told you; I have a job to do, and I don’t have time for silly stories about how you found a bookwyrm.”
Hurt shone in her light green eyes, and I knew I was unfairly taking out my anger on her over an entire journey that wasn’t even her fault. I opened my mouth to apologize but thought better of it. It was better to push her away, better that she didn’t think we could be friends. The truth was, even if she was irritating and chirpy, I already knew she was too good for me, that even if I wanted it, I didn’t deserve her friendship. I was too broken to deserve anything but this life I’d made for myself, one of duty and repentance, and that was the way it would have to stay.
CHAPTER 5
Niamh
My feet were sore, my ankles throbbing, and my back stretched tight like at any moment the muscles might snap. I liked my daily walks in the tower, but after four days of doing nothing but walking up and down stark green hills, climbing over boulders, and picking my way across muddy roads, I was ready for a break. My slippers were worn through, blisters forming that sent sharp shocks of pain through my heels.
