“I don’t know. I’ve never asked.” I never wanted to, too afraid of the truth, too afraid that everyone would reveal that they hated me as much as I hated myself after what happened to Lor. I wondered whatNiamh would think of me if I told her about my past. Would she suddenly stop talking to me like everyone else had? Would she glare at me? Dart away when she saw me? Give me a wide berth as I stalked through the streets? That was an idea. I could tell her, could use that to get her off my back, but for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to in this moment.
Instead I stalked away, her hurried steps pattering after me. “Does the entire town have magic?” she asked, glancing at the storefronts we passed by.
Good godwitches almighty. She never stopped. She didn’t get my hints, or she didn’t care. She just kept talking and talking and talking.
She tapped her chin, looking down. “Because I was thinking that I’d never seen an entire town with magic. Only single objects or creatures or plants. An entire town would be unheard of, and I can see why you’d want to keep it hidden from everyone.” She gasped, chattering on. “Does the town grow on its own? If you got more residents, would it expand to accommodate them? That would be fascinating to see. How long have you lived here? Cillian said you had to be invited to stay, so can anyone invite someone new and Fairwitch Isle will accept them?”
I stopped in the middle of the street, a horse whinnying and raising onto its back legs as the woman riding it harrumphed and settled it down, trotting around us.
Niamh gave a friendly wave, which, amazingly, softened the woman’s glare.
“You’re asking too many questions.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “You’re giving too few answers. I have more questions, you know.”
I held up a hand, unable to fathom any more. “Okay, okay.” We kept walking and passed the bakery, cakes, tarts, and pies on full display in the window. “Yes, the whole town has magic, but not as powerful as the castle. There’s a protective magic around Fairwitch Isle that keeps us hidden, safe. And some of the shops have magic, but we don’t know why. We lost a lot of that information.” I took a breath. I hadn’t spoken this much in years. “Happy now?”
Niamh looked up like she might see the magic dancing over her head. “How do you get items for clothes and food?” she asked. “You can’t just make everything yourselves. In Bergenay, we had established trade partners.”
Good godwitches. It didn’t matter how many of her questions I answered. She just asked more.
“We do have established trade, but we have couriers who meet our trade partners at designated posts, far away from Fairwitch. And to answer your other question, no, the town doesn’t grow on its own that I know of.” I rubbed the back of my neck, not sure I could explain the rest of this without Cillian but also not sure Niamh would let up if I didn’t explain. “The magic decides who gets let in.”
Niamh was chewing on the end of a long strand of hair, looking in each window that we passed, and thankfully, she was too distracted by our conversation to stop.
I chose my words carefully. “Not us. But we also have rules about inviting people, about leaving. We can’t just have citizens popping in and out of our invisible kingdom, can’t risk travelers seeing that kind of magic.” Niamh turned her green eyes on me, and once again, I was struck by how light they were. They weren’t any shade of green I’d ever seen.
“Why not?” She looked ahead and gasped. “Cillian!”
My head snapped in the direction she was looking, where my brother stood, talking to a blonde, her hair curly and full like a halo around her heart-shaped face.
“Who is that next to Cillian? They’re standing so close.” She gasped. “Is she an old flame?”
She didn’t seem remotely bothered by this, and I was starting to wonder if anything got under this woman’s skin.
“No, Cillian doesn’t court. He has no interest in relationships.” I winced, realizing what I’d just admitted to the woman who was supposedly going to be his wife.
“Then who is she?” Niamh asked as Cillian put his hand on the woman’s arm, still not seeming upset. “They look awfully friendly.”
“It’s his best friend, Ceri.” They’d been friends since childhood, andI was almost certain Ceri was the only woman in Fairwitch Cillian hadn’t tried to bed.
“Cillian!” Niamh set her hands on her hips, frowning at him, and I realized maybe she wasn’t upset about Ceri because she was too busy being upset about Nevan’s revelation.
His captain of the guard stepped forward in full armor, raising her sword and stopping Niamh in her tracks.
“Please step away from the high prince, or I will be forced to use this,” came Harriet’s voice from behind her helmet.
“Harriet, I’m sure that’s not necessary,” Ceri said to the guard.
“Why have you had so many brides?” Niamh asked, voice coming out high and squeaky. “Shouldn’t that be something you tell your future wife?”
Harriet’s sword faltered, and Ceri’s head snapped in Cillian’s direction. “Wife?”
I’d assumed Ceri knew. Cillian usually told her everything, so I wondered why he’d kept this from her.
It wasn’t often that I saw my brother angry, but he shot me a glare so withering it could’ve smote me on the spot. Shame swept over me at my rashness. I could’ve handled this better, could’ve not been so determined to keep Niamh away from me that I put my brother in a bad position.
I cleared my throat. “She wanted to see you.”
