Page 112 of This Prince Is Not Charming

“Our barrier isn’t broken anymore. There are no holes, no weak spots. Freeing Aoife seems to have fixed everything. So if they come, they won’t be able to enter or see us. We’re safe, Lor. Finally.”

It was such a fucking relief.

He breathed out a breath, his shoulders slumping. “Good. That’s good.”

“Yes, but I don’t want the brotherhood sniffing around here any more than you do. So I will work on getting you released as soon as possible.”

I turned to go.

“Cillian?” Lor said.

I stopped.

“I’m glad you’re finally free, that you can be with Ceri. You deserve to finally get to do something for yourself.”

“Welcome home, Lor,” I said and walked out of the dungeon.

CHAPTER 48

Ceri

The gargoyle dropped the wooden crate full of Cillian’s hair products, and it came crashing down outside the dress shop.

“Well, you really screwed that up,” Tal said to Barty, who was looking down at the smashed crate, the pieces of glass everywhere, and expensive hair products spilling out over the cobblestone.

“No, not my shampoo.” Cillian shoved a hand through his hair. “Do you know how expensive that was?”

Barty hung in the air, stone wings flapping, his face shifting as he frowned. “Oh, I’m sorry. Who’s the one helping you move again?”

Cillian gestured to the cobblestone. “This is what you call helping? Breaking my expensive products?”

Tal flew toward us, his massive stone body landing next to me as he set a crate of Cillian’s clothes, all neatly folded, on the ground. “I knew you wouldn’t be up for this,” he said to his twin.

Barty spread out his arms. “You carried clothes. I had to carry a heavy box full of pointless hair products.”

I hid my smile, knowing Cillian’s response was going to be almost as entertaining as the gargoyles helping us move.

And I was right. Cillian lifted his head, glaring at Barty. “I’m sorry, did you just call my hair products pointless?” He pointed at his perfect, thick waves. “I have the best hair of anyone in Fairwitch Isle.”

Barty just snorted in disbelief.

“And you do realize I didn’t ask for your help, don’t you? In fact, when you two showed up at my door and grabbed my wooden crates, I believe I specifically told you that you really didn’t need to help.”

“You know what?” Barty’s fangs peeked out over his lips. “I don’t think I want to help you anymore.”

“Perfect, that’s literally what I’ve been saying,” Cillian said.

“I don’t like your attitude,” Tal said. “I think I’m done helping too.”

“Great.” Cillian picked up his crate of clothes. “That is absolutely okay, like I’ve been saying for the past half an hour.”

“So ungrateful,” Barty said as they flew back toward their post at the castle’s front doors. “I hope our new high prince is nicer than him.”

“We’ll have to get a broom and sweep all this up.” I gestured to the mess in front of the door to the shop.

Cillian rolled his eyes as we walked into Best Dressed and up the stairs to the apartment above.

Inside my room, with its small bed, wardrobe, and nightstand, Cillian frowned. “Where’s my wardrobe?”