That reminded me of Princess Ashami. It was something she would’ve said. Something she actually did say when I’d been worried about being replaced by magic. She’d told me I was invaluable, that she’d never survive without me. It was funny because I’d felt the same about her, about my parents, about all of Bergenay. If anyone had told me my home would be attacked and I’d be one of few survivors, I’d have laughed in their face and told them they were mistaken. That I was the weakest of those in my kingdom, the least likely to survive.
Yet here I was. By complete accident.
I glanced at the servant as we passed her. Wolfe’s admission made me like this place even more. It seemed like Cillian didn’t want to take advantage of the magic here, which he could very well do. Surely someone with that kind of moral compass wouldn’t just go and collect brides to sacrifice them.
At least I hoped not.
“What happened to your hand?” I gestured to Wolfe’s bandage as we descended the stairs.
Just like the outside of the castle, the inside was colorful, with garlands of flowers hanging down the rails and sun shining in from the glass-vaulted ceiling high above.
“Apparently I broke it fighting your tower.” Wolfe frowned at it. “Not my hand. My wrist.”
I gaped at him. “You broke your wrist five days ago? But you were just walking around like nothing happened.”
He shrugged and looked away. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Of course it is. You should’ve been seen right away.”
“I did get seen.”
“Five days after it happened,” I pointed out, not sure what to make of this man.
“I’ve been busy,” he said in return. “In case you haven’t noticed. What was I supposed to do during our journey? Wander the hills calling for a healer in hopes they heard me? That would’ve distracted us from the goal of getting back here, getting to safety.”
It was just a crack, the smallest break in his armor, but I realized Wolfe had been as desperate to get to safety, hidden behind this magical barrier, as I was. Only, I wanted the safety for myself, but I suspected Wolfe couldn’t care less about himself. It was Cillian he’d been trying to protect. The sharp edges of my dislike for the guard softened.
“Okay, but we arrived yesterday. You could’ve visited the healer immediately. Too busy to fix a broken bone?” I clucked my tongue. “My mother would’ve given you an earful for that.” My heart felt raw talking about her. Morton and I had reminisced about everyone we’d lost countless times, but it was different telling someone about her who’d never met her. Who never would. It also felt cathartic in a way, like I was keeping her memory alive. I sniffled and cleared my throat. “She was our castle healer, and she was very stern about injuries. If someone so much as got a paper cut, they’d see her right away, not because they were worried about the cut, but because they were worried ifthey waited and it got worse, Healer Sorscha would set her wrath upon them.”
He snorted. “Your mother is a healer?”
“Was,” I clarified, and he stiffened.
“Right. I’m sorry for your loss.”
Pain pricked my heart. Loss. Like her life was somehow misplaced and I just needed to find it. My mother’s death wasn’t a loss. It was a theft. Someone had taken her from me. Taken everyone from me.
“She was a very good healer,” I said softly, “but she’d never have allowed you to walk around with a broken wrist.”
She wouldn’t even let me wander outside the castle grounds, so worried about me even when I had grown into an adult. Of course, by then I could do whatever I wanted, but with my parents’ warnings about danger and death lurking around every corner, I rarely wanted to leave the castle, and I never needed to, not when I had everything I could want inside its walls.
We got to the bottom of the stairs and walked across the smooth wooden floors toward the big front doors of the castle.
“My mother is like that too,” he said, so quiet I almost didn’t hear him.
“You have a mother?” I blurted out, then realized how utterly stupid the question was.
“Well, I didn’t sprout from a seed, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said. His voice as severe as ever, but underneath that full beard, his lips twitched just the slightest bit. “I also have three brothers.”
That stopped me in my tracks. “There are four of you?” I couldn’t imagine. “Your poor mother.” I realized too late I’d said that out loud, but Wolfe didn’t look even slightly offended.
“You’ve met two of them.”
My brows furrowed. I’d barely met anyone yet, so I wasn’t sure who he could possibly be talking about.
He gave me a look like I was a simpleton. “Cillian and Nevan?”
My mouth dropped open. “Cillian is your brother?” Nevan, I could see now that I thought about it. They had the same dark brown hair, though Nevan’s was shorter and neater, the same pale skin and thickbrows that arched over his deep-set eyes, the same full lips. But Cillian’s features were more precise, more symmetrical, like he’d been carved from a statue.
