Wolfe tugged his thick beard. “You can’t see the Fairwitch because someone who lives there has to invite you in, and if the castle doesn’t like you?—”
“Then sometimes it can be a little mischievous.” Cillian put his arm around my shoulder as Wolfe glared at him. “Welcome home.” He walked us forward, then stopped and rapped against the thin air.
A sharp knock reverberated around us. I wasn’t sure I truly believed Cillian and Wolfe until this moment, hearing a knock when there was no door to be seen.
“Welcome to Fairwitch Isle, Niamh...” He trailed off, frowning. “I don’t actually know your last name.”
“Niamh Merridon,” I shouted, worrying the city wouldn’t hear me and let me in if it didn’t know my name.
Morton plugged one of his pointed ears with his tail.
“Niamh Merridon,” Cillian confirmed, “and Morton the bookwyrm, who has no surname. At least I don’t think he does.”
Right before my eyes, an entire city unfurled from thin air.
I’d seen the tower do amazing things over the years, so a magic city really shouldn’t have been so surprising, but it took my breath away anyway.
Right here on this cliffside, it appeared as if some huge invisiblecloak was slowly dropping, each bit of its white-stone walls being revealed, no sound coming from it. The invisible barrier dropped farther to reveal balconies covered in garlands of orange and red flowers, their sweet scent permeating the air. Vaulted roofs poked out of the tops, and colorful stained-glass windows glinted under the sun.
But it wasn’t just a castle that appeared before me—it was an entire city. Small shops and squat houses and roads and alleys appeared, and before I could take it all in, a massive wooden wall sprouted around the entire town, covering it from view.
“Well, that was something,” Morton said.
Cillian pushed the door to the city open. “Welcome to Fairwitch Isle. Welcome home.”
CHAPTER 6
Niamh
We walked through the gate, and Wolfe clicked it closed behind us. People bustled about the town, as if seconds ago, it hadn’t just been invisible.
A secret castle. A secret city. It was unbelievable. Not the magic, but that they were able to hide it all from the rest of the world. The thought that I could be hidden away again like I was in my tower sent relief shooting through me for the first time in days.
I gazed in awe at the castle, which was spread out in the middle of the town, its peaks so tall they seemed to touch the clouds.
We walked across the cobblestone street that wound around the palace. It was filled with tall, skinny buildings, some crooked and leaning, others with peaked roofs, and others that had verandas and little patios. I peeked at a green and white striped awning that stretched out over tables with buckets full of vegetables and fruits, and my stomach grumbled at the juicy red apples. In the tower, I’d just have to tell it when I was hungry, and food would appear, but thethought of being able to shop again, to choose an apple if I was hungry for one, was so appealing.
“We don’t have a lot of space, so we use the space we do have as efficiently as possible,” Cillian said, bright gaze stuck on me as I took everything in.
“This might be even more powerful magic than our tower.” Morton’s head swiveled in all directions as he looked around. “Where does it come from? What’s the object?”
Cillian gestured toward the massive white stone castle towering in the middle of it all. “It’s the castle. Its magic protects the city it serves.”
“Where does everyone live?” I asked, and Cillian swung his arm out toward the businesses. “You’re looking at it. Most everyone lives in apartments above their businesses.” He pointed to a few green hills sweeping out behind the castle. “But some of our residents who don’t have storefronts live in cottages and cabins. And everyone else lives in the castle.”
My gaze swept to the stone castle in front of us as we approached the stairs that led up to it. Gargoyle statues sat on either side of the wooden doors with gleaming golden handles.
I stopped on the steps to take it all in.
Castles were usually practical—stone and grey and built for protection and defense—not for aesthetic. I thought of the castle from Bergenay, my home, how it had been fortified with tall guard towers and big stone walls that were supposed to be impenetrable.
Until they weren’t.
I looked in awe at all the stained-glass windows, the oranges, reds, yellows, and pinks bursting with coziness and warmth. Vines hung from the balconies, some of them a vibrant green, others covered with delicate pink and purple flowers. The white stone of the castle was pristine, no dust or dirt or wear on it, whereas the castle in Bergenay had holes from attacks, chipped stone, crumbling towers. It was always in disrepair.
I wondered how they kept theirs in such good condition, but then I remembered this was a secret, hidden castle. They likely didn’t getattacked or have to worry about intruders, and that made this place all the more appealing.
The tallest parts of the castle, the towers, had round wooden-slat roofs with windows that glowed from what I suspected were fires crackling in the hearths. Everything about this place felt safe, secure, and that gave me hope that maybe this really was the best thing that could’ve happened to Morton and me after all. That maybe our tower crumbling hadn’t been so bad.
