Page 17 of This Prince Is Not Charming

“At least she’s committed. You know someone will be trying their best. You should be flattered.”

“I would be if I thought Siobhan actually wanted to marry me, but you and I both know she’s after the crown and nothing else.”

I gasped and put a hand to my chest. “Siobhan? After the crown? What could you possibly be talking about?”

Cillian gave me a light shove, his gaze traveling up to the stars that sprinkled the dark sky.

“Are you nervous at all?” I asked. “You’re acting very calm for someone who’s about to have seven contestants fighting over him.”

“Seven people fighting over me? Sounds like a good time.”

“Well, six,” I corrected. “I will not be one of them.”

His gaze stayed upward. “I’m hurt.”

“No you’re not.” I rolled my eyes. “And you should be nervous. For once in your life.”

He gave a quiet laugh, full of emotions I didn’t completely understand.

I reached out and put my hand over his heart, and his hand automatically covered mine, his blue eyes on me in an instant. “What are you doing?”

“Just checking,” I said airily.

“For what?”

“Your heart. Want to make sure it’s working all right.”

His hand dropped, and now it was his turn to roll his eyes. “You’re a menace.”

“I will take that as a compliment.”

“You shouldn’t.”

I leaned my head on his shoulder, and I thought I felt him tense before relaxing. “Tell me it’s all going to be okay.”

He was silent for a moment, long enough that I wondered if he’d fallen asleep.

“Of course it’s going to be okay, Cerriwen. Remember the promise I made to you when we were little?”

I smiled sadly. I was only ten years old, and my sister had just died—only two years after we’d lost my mother. It had been one of the worst days of my life. My father had completely fallen apart, couldn’t get out of bed. I’d been grieving and also trying to care for him, to keep from losing the last family member I had in this world. Cillian had only been eleven years old, but he’d arrived, ordered me to bed, and told me he’d take care of everything. And he had. I’d woken up to find my father eating broth and Cillian reading a book to him.

After Father had fallen asleep, I’d broken down, and Cillian had sat next to me on the little couch in my apartment, hugging me tight and promising me we’d get through this.

“I’ll never let anything bad happen to you. It’s you and me against the world. Always.”

He’d kept that promise over the years, and even though I had the weight of the world on my shoulders, any time Cillian visited, that weight lifted just a little.

He held out his pinky, and my eyes crinkled. “What are you doing?”

“Remember?” he asked. “Oh, come on. Are you too sophisticated now?”

I scoffed and hooked my pinky with his, the way we’d done that night on the couch. We stared at each other, faces so close I could see the little mole under his eye and the light dusting of freckles on his nose. The moon lit the sharp angles of his face, his strong nose, and high cheekbones. And still, we didn’t let go.

It should’ve felt childish and silly to be hooking pinkies. But it didn’t. Instead, it felt like a comfort. And that was something I desperately needed if I’d be meeting my competition tomorrow.

CHAPTER 10

Ceri