“It’s okay to feel things, Wolfe,” Cillian said. “It’s okay to let people get close, you know.”
My jaw locked, the words poking the most tender places of my heart. “I don’t need to be told that.”
“I think you do,” Cillian said. “You just told me that I need to think of others, but I think you need the opposite. I think you need to think about yourself for once. Think about what you want.”
Niamh’s face flashed in my mind, and I pushed the image away.
“Think about what you need.”
Niamh’s body curled into mine at night, her face against my chest.
“Stop,” I said, holding out a hand. “Just stop. I am what I am, and there is nothing that can change that.”
Cillian let out a soft laugh. “Something is already changing that. You’re changing, and you won’t even admit why.”
This conversation was starting to feel like a riddle, like Cillian was trying to tell me something that I couldn’t understand. He wasn’tNevan, wasn’t straightforward and to the point, but I understood enough of what he was hinting at.
“Yes, Niamh has wheedled her way into my life,” I said. “She talks. A lot. She doesn’t pick up on cues like other people and leave me alone. I guess I could call her a friend.”
Cillian smiled widely, and guilt surged through me. If only he knew what I was really thinking. He’d kill me if he knew that I’d seen Niamh naked last night, that I’d desperately wanted to step into the steaming pool with her and run my hands over her bare skin, trail my lips over every single part of her body, to know what it felt like to be inside her. That I’d stroked myself thinking of her and I’d come harder than I ever had before. I’d already betrayed one brother by not being more vigilant, by not saving him.
Now I was betraying another in a different way. No, Cillian didn’t have feelings for Niamh—not that I knew of—but he was hanging all his hopes on her, and if I allowed this to go further than it already had, I’d crush that hope. Niamh might very well be the future queen of this kingdom, and I needed to get a grip on myself.
Except Niamh wasn’t so easy to get rid of, which meant I needed to push her away and make sure this didn’t go any farther. I’d have to do something, say something, that would ensure she wouldn’t come around anymore—ensure I wouldn’t cross any more lines.
“Let’s get back to town,” I said abruptly, Cillian still smiling like an idiot.
“Looking forward to the party tonight?” He winked.
Not at all. I was going to have to do something I absolutely didn’t want to. I was going to have to hurt Niamh enough that she’d never want to see me again.
CHAPTER 29
Niamh
Morton’s words rattled in my brain all night as the party was in full swing, and I eyed Cillian across the library, where he stood by the windows, a glass of wine in his hand as he spoke with some of the residents.
The scent of freshly polished shelves and crisp books mingled in the air while laughter and chatter rang out. Someone’s shoes squeaked against the shiny wooden floors, and I turned to see Margaret beaming at me from a painting, her brown eyes shining.
“Oh, I haven’t been to a party in ages,” she said, leaning against a wooden bowl full of fruit. “I can practically taste the wine. You know, in the region where my painting is from, wine is actually made from yellow grapes, not red. They’re much sweeter.”
“How do you know that?” I fiddled with my emerald green dress, this one with an A-line cut and a sheer fabric that hung over a black slip. The sleeves were short, leaving me shivering, as usual. I should’ve brought a shawl, but I figured the room would be hot with all the bodies shoved in here.
Ceri had insisted this dress would look amazing on me, and she was right, but she also didn’t realize how quickly I got so cold.
Margaret waved her hand. “I have a whole backstory, you know. A place I’m from—the northern region of Aubergn—a culture. I can even tell you about the history of the place?—”
“Not right now,” I said, unable to stop myself from looking for the one person I shouldn’t be looking for.
I rose to my tiptoes and arched my neck to search through the milling guests, some browsing while others sat and conversed. Morton perched on the front desk, quill clutched in his tail as he made notes of all the books being checked out and who had taken them. A long line stretched out from the desk, everyone with arms full of books. We’d need to come up with a better system in the future, but for now, this would work.
The door to the library opened, and my breath caught in my chest. Wolfe stepped in, his huge form filling the doorframe. He glared at the room, and I smiled, glancing behind me at Cillian, who was in some animated conversation with Ceri.
“Excuse me, Margaret.” I veered toward the front door. “You came,” I said as I approached him, trying not to sound too excited.
Wolfe crossed his arms over his green and brown vest, looking away. “I have a job to do.”
“Well, your charge seems to be doing just fine.”
