Cillian closed his eyes, and for the briefest moment, I saw the anguish on his face. “No.”
“Why not?” I asked gently.
“Because he wouldn’t listen. Not to me anyway.”
He shoved a hand through his hair, tousling it and making him somehow look even more handsome. He truly was the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen.
Cillian turned off the cobblestone road onto a winding dirt path that led through the hillside. “Okay, where are we going?”
He smiled, sadness all but forgotten. “My parents want to meet you.”
I stopped in the middle of the road, mouth dropping open. “Your parents?”
Oh no. I’d somehow forgotten all about Cillian’s parents. I knew they’d been at the castle several times because both Cillian and Margaret had mentioned it. I figured I’d meet them eventually, but not today.
“What’s wrong?” Cillian turned, frowning.
“What’s wrong?” I grabbed my hair, in a braid that was unraveling, then looked down at the long-sleeved yellow dress I’d chosen fortoday, flowy and not remotely formal. “I’m not prepared to meet the high prince’s parents. I didn’t do my hair or dress up or practice my curtsies.”
He arched a brow. “You do know that they’re not the high prince, right? Also, you’ve never curtsied for me. I’m starting to feel a little under-appreciated.”
He reached out and plucked a quill from my hair. I’d had it in there this morning in the library and forgotten to take it out.
I groaned. “Meeting the parents is a big deal.”
“They’re nice.” He leaned over, whispering out of the side of his mouth. “And they’re also currently looking at us from behind their curtains.”
My gaze shot to a little cottage in the distance behind a short wall of stones. Two faces peered at me, but they quickly disappeared, the curtain swaying in their absence.
Cottages lined both sides of the road, little openings in the stone wall with paths leading to the houses.
“Why don’t your parents live in the castle?” I asked as we walked through the little opening in the stone wall and toward the house, my heart thumping.
“Nostalgia,” he said. “This was our home before I became high prince. They didn’t want to give it up. I’m glad they kept it. It’s nice coming here for our monthly family dinners.”
The door swung open, a tall, thin woman smiling at me and a shorter grey-haired man standing next to her, spectacles perched on his nose that made him look so much like an older version of Nevan.
“Welcome, welcome.” The woman ushered us inside. “We’re so happy you could come for dinner.”
“Thank you for having me.” I shot a glare at Cillian and lowered my voice. “I thought we said no more secrets. Just to be clear, that includes bringing me to a family dinner to meet your parents without any warning.”
“Noted,” he said back.
“I’m Karina, and this is my husband Jerome.” Karina looped herarm through Jerome’s, and he gave me a soft smile as he took off his spectacles and cleaned them with the end of his shirt.
“We’re so glad to have you,” he said.
“I’m Niamh.” I stuck out my hand, hoping it wasn’t too sweaty. I wasn’t even sure why I was so nervous about meeting Cillian’s parents. Wolfe’s parents.
I just really wanted them to like me.
“Niamh!” Nevan appeared from a doorway to the left. “I didn’t know you were coming!”
“Neither did I,” I muttered under my breath, and Cillian coughed.
Nevan roped me into a hug, some of my nerves melting at seeing another familiar face. We walked into the quaint home. To the right was some kind of office with a few bookshelves. We kept walking through an arched doorway and into a cozy great room with one couch on either wall. I turned to see the room opened up into the kitchen, where smoke rose from a bubbling pot on the iron stove, wood burning bright through the door. I swallowed, spinning and willing my heart to calm down.
I couldn’t even see the fire, and it was just for the wood, to cook the food. Food was good. I liked food.
