“I can see that,” Cillian said, shifting his gaze to Niamh. He held out his hand, and Harriet lowered her sword, re-sheathing it. “Could we go somewhere to have this conversation in private?”
Niamh swallowed thickly, clearly wary of this entire situation. “Fine.” She gestured for Cillian to lead the way, then turned and jabbed a finger at me. “And don’t think you’re off the hook, sunshine. You have as much explaining to do as he does.”
Perfect. Just fucking perfect.
CHAPTER 10
Niamh
Cillian and I sat in the castle gardens, the sky a light blue with puffy white clouds dotting the expanse. The white-stone castle rose up beside the little garden, which was full of plots of flowers, bushes, and trees, with stone benches dotting a pathway. Cillian had picked a bench shoved between two lemon trees for us to sit.
Sweat trickled between my breasts, and I fanned myself. I’d tried to distract myself on my walk with Wolfe, but my thoughts kept returning to the most sinister outcomes, and no matter how hard I tried to keep myself from spiraling, my brain wouldn’t let this sacrificial brides idea go. I’d read a story about that once. About a king who lured women to his bed so he could sacrifice them to his manor, their blood keeping its magic alive. I’d thought about running, but I was almost certain Wolfe could catch me. I’d never been very fast. Plus, where would I run to? Also, I couldn’t leave Morton behind. What if they sacrificed him too?
My stomach lurched at the thought of being killed. Was it going to happen now? Was this some sick ritual they’d done with all his otherbrides? I chewed on the end of a strand of hair, envisioning a graveyard full of bones, mine soon to join.
I gestured to the blooming garden, bursting with color and variety. “Is that how you make this garden grow? With the blood of your bride sacrifices?”
His perfectly symmetrical face melted into horror. “Bride... sacrifices?”
“Well, that’s what Nevan said.”
“Nevan told you I’ve sacrificed my brides?” His mouth twisted. “When did you meet Nevan?”
“So you have had multiple brides?” I asked, feeling triumphant in at least getting him to admit that.
His mouth went ajar, then he snapped it shut. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find any of this out, but it seems my brothers don’t know how to keep their mouths shut.”
“Can you explain literally anything to me?” I gestured wildly, almost hitting Cillian in the face.
He dodged my gesticulating hand. “Yes, yes, I can.”
“I’m not the first woman you’ve married?”
He scrubbed a hand down his face, suddenly looking so very tired, and I felt a little sorry for him. Not enough to back down, though. He owed me some answers.
“You just seemed... fragile, and I didn’t want to overwhelm you with everything all at once.”
I winced. Cillian had only known me for five days, and even he saw me as weak, as incapable of handling the truth. Whatever that was. To be fair, if the truth involved sacrificing, I didn’t think anyone would handle that well. But still, his answer stung, that word—fragile—like a sharp pin digging into my heart.
“Are you all right?” Cillian asked. “I didn’t mean to keep anything from you.”
I didn’t want to admit this particular truth, the one that would confirm his observations about me, so instead, I veered the conversation toward an easier truth. “I can understand that,” I said slowly. “I was a lady’s maid to the Princess of Bergenay, and she often had a lotof hard choices to make.” Ashami had always come to me with her problems, afraid of revealing too much or too little to her people, especially when the brotherhood began their attacks. She hadn’t known if telling everyone the full truth would frighten them to the point that our society would collapse or if it would rally them to act, to fight. In the end, she’d convinced the queen and king that the truth was the better route to go.
“Bergenay.” Cillian tapped his chin, so chiseled and strong. It was truly remarkable how attractive he was. “The kingdom that was destroyed by the brotherhood?”
I looked away but couldn’t stop the surge of memories that flooded me: flames, screams, Ashami yelling “run” as the brotherhood captured her. My chest tightened, and I massaged it, some of the tightness loosening.
“Sorry,” Cillian said. “We don’t need to talk about that. I—Well, I’m sorry.”
“We had a magical river,” I said quietly. “It healed injuries, could revive dying plants or crops, could even make our seeds stronger so they were able to grow faster, endure harsher weather. That river was the life of our city, and the brotherhood wanted it for themselves. They attacked in the middle of the night, and we weren’t prepared. They killed everyone in the castle.” My voice shook. “They conquered Bergenay, putting their henchmen in charge. Last I heard, they’re now charging anyone who lives in the city to use the river.”
He nodded, face solemn for once. “I’m so sorry that happened.”
I tried to focus on what he was saying, but my heart was beating fast, my vision going hazy, my lungs squeezing tighter despite how hard I was massaging.
“Are you all right, Niamh?” Cillian put a hand on my shoulder. “You’re looking pale. Well, paler than usual, and your pupils are huge. Are you getting ill? Maybe I should take you to Nevan.”
“No.” My voice was tight as I tried to squeeze air out. “It’ll pass.” I bent over, the rushing of blood making me feel woozy. “This... happens sometimes. When I talk about...”
