Page 46 of This Prince Is Not Charming

Marsten raised a finger. “Well, Clio did just disappear in front of all of us, and now that’s two of us who are missing and presumably dead, so forgive us if we’re not in the mood for tea.”

Morton sighed, puffs of smoke trailing from his nose. “How many times must I repeat myself? They’re not dead. This is part of the trials. Plus, I have a gut instinct everything will work out just fine.”

Marsten studied his bright pink nails. “Forgive me if I don’t trust your gut. It’s probably so cluttered with books and information, it can’t think properly.”

“I don’t think guts think,” Tal said, hovering in the air over the garden.

All of our heads whipped toward the stone gargoyles.

“How would you know?” Barty asked, pointing a talon at Tal’s stomach. “Your stomach is full of stone.”

“I have gut feelings,” Tal argued. “Like right now, I have a gut feeling that I don’t like you very much.”

Morton’s brows bunched. “That’s not what gut feeling means.”

“See?” Barty said, sticking out his long stone tongue. “Told you. You don’t have a gut.”

“I’m really starting to get tired of you,” Tal said.

“Just now?” Cillian asked. “After thousands of years together?”

“I’ve only been around them for a few minutes, and I’m already tired of them,” Meera mumbled.

The gargoyles took off, arguing as they flew over the peaks of the castle and disappeared to the other side.

With nothing else to do, we shot each other unsure looks before turning to go, but suddenly, an otherworldly force pushed us all back into the chairs, including Cillian, who plopped down across from me.

“Seriously?” I asked, shooting a look at Morton.

He shrugged, his wings lifting and falling with the motion. “It’s Castle’s magic. Don’t look at me! I’m just the messenger. Apparently Castle wants you to enjoy the tea and sandwiches.”

I doubted anyone was hungry and sank back into my chair, my mood souring. I didn’t want to be here any longer. I just wanted to go home and check on my father.

Cillian sat across from me with his symmetrical face and perfect dark hair falling over his forehead, and suddenly I remembered that he’d lied to me.

“What’s wrong?” He popped one of the miniature cucumber sandwiches into his mouth.

“Why did you really leave Fairwitch Isle last night?” I asked.

His blue eyes flashed. “I already told you⁠—”

“I know it wasn’t Meera’s idea.”

He heaved a sigh. “Damn cat. I should’ve known I couldn’t trust her.”

So Meera was telling the truth. “Cillian! Why would you lie to me?”

I knew he kept things from me, but I’d always thought it was things I wouldn’t want to hear about, like one-night stands or spending all night at the town tavern. Not something as serious as leaving Fairwitch Isle and putting us all at risk.

I leaned forward, dropping my voice to whisper. “Was it to search for Lor?”

His eyes bugged for a moment, and he cleared his throat. “Uh, yes. You caught me.” He shot me a guilty smile.

I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest. “Cillian! I thought we agreed that was a bad idea after your last search for him.” It was over two years ago, when Fairwitch Isle was situated on a bog, and Cillian had gone to look for his brother, but it hadn’t ended well. He’d discovered Lor didn’t want to come home, that he didn’t want to have contact with his family. “You know he doesn’t want to be found.”

“Then why did he find me?”

I raised a brow, remembering our conversation from last night on the rooftop. “You saw his face?”