Cillian turned to me.
"Tilly, ignore his thoughtless behaviour. The food is excellent."
He filled my plate with delicious pastries, fresh fruit, and salad, then poured what looked like orange juice into my glass instead of wine. Never taking his eyes off me, he picked up a pastry, ate it, then drank deeply from the glass before handing me one.
"I promised no harm would come to you, and I meant it."
I was hungry, and I allowed myself to forget that harm had already come to me at Fionn's hands. I wanted to believe him, and so I did.
But I wasn’t eating out of trust; I was eating because I needed strength. It was a matter of strategy, not surrender.
I met Fionn’s gaze once more and noticed a flicker of accomplishment in his eyes—a recognition that I should not be underestimated and that this dinner was just the first of many challenges I would face in this strange, new world. I bit into a flaky, creamy pastry and almost swooned from the incredible flavours that seemed familiar yet strange. The taste was delicately spicy yet sweet, like peaches layered with the scent of a Moroccan market.The juice wasn't orange; it was similar but had an undertone of something I didn’t recognize.
Cillian poured a glass of wine and sipped it. Fionn and Torin ate in silence, but their gazes struck me like daggers.
For a brief moment, Fionn’s eyes darkened to an almost black shade, a transformation so sudden that it seemed unnatural. No one’s eyes can change that quickly. It made him look almost possessed. It couldn’t be real. It had to be the lighting. Fionn leaned forward, slamming his wine glass down on the table as he became unnaturally still.
"You need to choose, Tilly. Or we will choose for you. We've been watching you for months."
My fork froze halfway to my mouth. My appetite vanished, chased away by a growing dread that knotted my stomach. The sound of the glass hitting the wood echoed in my head. I gently placed the fork down. The clink of the metal sounded unusually loud in the silence. A wave of anxiety washed over me, quickly replacing the hunger that had been nagging at my stomach moments before.
The sound felt final.
The wordchoose,hit me like a physical slap.
It wasn’t an invitation. It was an ultimatum. Choose what, exactly? A role… one of them?
I didn't know if they wanted a wife or a slave, and that uncertainty terrified me more than anything else.
"What the hell are you talking about?" My voice cracked, but I didn’t back down. "You’ve been watching me for months. Why? What am I supposed to choose? Is it one of you? for what?"
"Leave her be," Cillian intervened. "Can't you wait until she's finished eating?"
Leaning back in his chair, Torin swirled the wine in his glass and grinned. "My Cillian, aren't we love-struck? Shall we all castour gauntlets to the table? Shall we recite the poetry of love and passion?"
Cillian's frustration was palpable as he shot a glare at Torin, his patience wearing thin. His jaw clenched, but his voice stayed level.
"What's wrong, brother? Are you sulking because Tilly isn't paying more attention to your insipid remarks? It's no surprise you've failed at winning her over with your behaviour. Then without hesitation, he turned towards Fionn. "And you – don’t think your authority makes you untouchable. It just makes you predictable.”
Fionn leapt from his chair so abruptly that it toppled to the floor. Descending on Cillian with terrifying speed, the pair grappled and rolled across the rug. I jumped back, my heart hammering in my chest, fear and worry battling for dominance.
This wasn’t just a fight, this was madness.I thought, despair creeping into the edges of my panic
"Brother, you've interfered one too many times today," Fionn's voice cut through the chaos, his anger directed at Cillian.
"You abuse your position of authority!" Cillian shot back, his voice echoing through the room.
I stood frozen, watching the clash unfold. My stomach twisted. Cillian had been the only one to show me any kindness and now he was being dragged into this chaos. He didn’t deserve it. None of us did.
I didn’t trust Fionn. Not with his silence and his power over the others. And I was scared that he might actually hurt his brother.
"Enough!" Torin shouted, bolting toward Cillian and pulling him from Fionn.
I found my voice — shaky, but loud enough to try. "Stop! Please! This isn’t solving anything!" But my words vanished into the noise, swallowed by the sound of fists.
Cillian angrily shoved Torin aside and continued to brawl with Fionn. They were both fast and strong. I feared they might tear each other apart.
I admired Cillian's courage, even as I feared the outcome.
