Page 73 of This Prince Is Not Charming

“I was not.” Father pounded a fist on the table. “Or maybe I was . . . just a little. Margaret has been giving me good tips.”

“Papa!”

He winced. “I didn’t mean to. I was coming down to give you your shawl and make sure you didn’t catch a cold.”

My irritation melted away in an instant. “I was just fine, Papa.”

“Ceri, dear.” His eyes shifted back and forth, and he suddenly looked so uncomfortable.

Oh no, what had he heard? The confession I’d made to Marsten and Meera rang in my ears.

“Cillian loves you, too, you know,” he said.

I didn’t think I could be any more surprised. “How do you know that?”

“Well, I don’t think I’m the reason he’s here practically every day.” He cleared his throat. “I also am fairly certain yours is the only room in Fairwitch Isle he sneaks into.”

My cheeks heated. “Oh, godwitches.”

“What I’m saying is that man loves you. I’ve seen it for years, and I thought maybe you two had decided to just remain friends for your own reasons.” His voice shook. “But now I understand.”

My hand went to cover his. “I will never leave you.”

“I know that,” he said, meeting my gaze, voice suddenly fierce. “I have no doubt, Ceri, my dear. You’ve only ever taken care of me. I do worry,” he said. “But not about Cillian and you. You two can and will figure it out.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Because when you love someone, that’s what you do. Don’t be afraid to go after what you want. Not because of me. Not because of anyone. I know I have my difficulties . . .” He swallowed thickly. “But I don’t want you to suffer because of them.”

“I don’t,” I said quickly. “I don’t. I love our dress shop. I love our little life. I have no interest in becoming queen and leading Fairwitch Isle. There are so many complications between Cillian and me, and it’s always been easier to just . . . not talk about it. To not make things messy.”

“But is it worth it?” Father asked. “That man numbed himself to all feelings, and I think I know why. Your friends are right. You have to tell him the truth.”

I swallowed thickly. Father had confirmed what I’d also thought. That Cillian had taken that heartstopper to numb his feelings for me, and it broke my heart. “And what if we can’t make it work?” What if he started taking it again because we couldn’t find a way?

“You will. If you have to live in the castle, I will be okay here. Margaret comes almost every day. You can visit me daily.”

He was lying, and I knew it. My father required full-time care, and I wanted to be here for him when he needed me. But everyone was right. Cillian and I couldn’t keep lying to ourselves and each other. We had to finally admit the truth.

“Okay, Papa,” I said, patting his hand.

He spread out his hands. “So what are you waiting for?”

I let out a laugh, thinking about Cillian, how he needed to heal. “A few things, Papa. Just a few.” Soon. Soon I would tell Cillian everything.

CHAPTER 33

Cillian

Istood in the throne room, dressed in my black trousers and a white silk shirt with ivory buttons that Ceri had made for me. I’d been on the mend for three weeks now, and I was feeling immensely better, but still not sure I was ready for this. For trial number four, which apparently was happening in the throne room. I’d been resting in bed, and then suddenly I was here, standing on the dais, dressed to the nines.

People began appearing in the throne room with a pop. It wasn’t just the contestants appearing, though. It seemed to be the entire city of Fairwitch Isle, everyone dressed in gowns and evening wear. The moon shone through the gold stained-glass windows that lined both sides of the magnificent space.

Trays of drinks and food floated around, and our local musicians appeared, instruments in hand.

What in the godwitches’ name was going on?

“Ah, you’re here!”