“Margaret.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’m a little busy.”
Margaret was one of the more annoying quirks of the castle. Leave it to Niamh to find her.
“Are you smiling?” Margaret said as my lips twitched, thinking about the bothersome woman.
I cleared my throat and scowled. “No.” The last thing I needed was Margaret thinking I was any friendlier now than I was the last time I’d seen her.
Her gaze dipped down to the scarf in my hands, and her eyes widened. “Are you taking that to Niamh? That girl is always cold. Especially after she gave away that fire godwitch statue in her hearth.”
My head snapped to the painting. “She what?”
Margaret nodded enthusiastically. “Oh yes. I told her it was sweet, but that she really should keep it so she doesn’t get cold. I know how she hates—hey, where are you going?”
I stomped past the painting and up the narrow stairwell that led to her room. I was just about to bang on the door when it swung open, and I came face-to-face with Niamh. A blanket was thrown around her shoulders, and I peeked inside, Margaret’s piece of gossip confirmed. The damn fire godwitch was gone.
“Why did you get rid of the statue?” I pointed at the hearth.
Niamh’s eyes widened. “I thought Ceri’s father could use it. He’s always complaining about being cold and getting sick from it, even though that’s not really how it works, but no matter how many times Ceri has tried to explain it to him, he won’t?—”
I gritted my teeth together, shoving past Niamh and striding toward the window.
“Hey! What has gotten into you?”
I leaned down to inspect the gap between the stained glass and the frame where cold air was entering her room. “But you needed it too.” I stood and turned. “And it’s not like I can just find another one.”
Niamh’s mouth dropped open. “I’m sorry... what did you just say?”
I scratched the back of my neck, the tips of my ears reddening as I realized what I’d just revealed. “Nothing.”
A slow smile spread across Niamh’s face. “I was right. You really are my sunshine. You’re the one who put that statue in my hearth? It worked amazingly well, by the way. What a wondrous piece of magic. No fire needed, and it warmed the room spectacularly.”
“You said you couldn’t handle fires, and I didn’t want you to be cold,” I grumbled, hating myself for letting that slip. I’d been secretive about it for a reason—because I knew she’d overreact.
“And now you’re cold again.” I nodded toward the blanket over her shoulders.
“It’s fine. I just use extra blankets.”
“It’s not even winter yet,” I said. “This is our summer season, Niamh.”
Her face paled, freckles stark against her skin. “Oh.”
“That’s it. You’re going to have to face your fears.”
Her face paled even more. “Wh-what does that mean?”
I marched over to the empty hearth.
“Oh no. I’m not like you. I’m not brave,” she protested.
I sighed and turned. “Do you know why I told you to get to safety when the dragon wasps attacked?”
Niamh shot me a curious look. “Why?”
“Because I knew you could. I knew you were capable of taking care of yourself. I didn’t realize it at the time because I was distracted, but...” I hesitated. “Niamh, you’re not a coward because you saved yourself from the brotherhood’s attack on Bergenay. And you’re not a coward because you can’t stand the sight of fire after it killed everyone you love.”
She swallowed thickly. “Then what am I?”
“Traumatized,” I said in a gentler tone than I was used to.
