Page 27 of This Prince Is Not Charming

I clenched the empty bottle in my pocket tighter. “I’m fine. I’m just worried about the contestants.”

About Ceri. And maybe some of those symptoms had to do with me missing a dose of my tonic, but I’d correct that tonight.

If I made it to tonight. I felt like I wanted to crawl out of my skin. I hated these feelings bubbling up between the cracks. Like if they got too big, I’d explode. I’d kidnap Fargus tonight if I had to and force my adviser to portal me out of Fairwitch.

In the meantime, I couldn’t stand still and do nothing. “That’s it. I’m going to find them⁠—”

Before I could finish my sentence, the room started quaking. I flew backward into my throne, attempting to get out of it, but a strong wind held me down.

Castle was at it again, and right now, it wanted me to stay put. I struggled anyway, refusing to just let it push me around.

The floor split open, jagged lines cracking through it and running all the way to the doors at the end of the long room. The yellow and gold stained-glass windows rattled, and I stopped struggling, clutching the arms of my throne as I gaped.

“What in the godwitches’ name is happening now?” I yelled at Morton, who looked far too calm, still sitting on the arm of my throne.

From the cracks in the room, figures appeared, being spit out like pieces of food. My heart hammered in my chest as I watched all the contestants, one by one, landing safely back in the throne room, except the one I cared about. Then I saw her. Blond curls and a full figure, and those familiar dimples peeking from her cheeks.

Ceri had returned, and with her reappearance, so had my full range of emotions.

CHAPTER 13

Cillian

Ceri stood there, the straps of her dress slashed and the bottom ripped to shreds. Blood welled on her hand, and bruises peppered her arms while a few burn marks slashed her calves. I was feeling . . . godwitches, I wasn’t sure what I was feeling, but whatever it was, my heart was going to burst. I could barely breathe as I stared at her, at the golden light that wrapped around her, at how effortlessly beautiful she was. My throat grew tight, and I wanted to force it back open so I could breathe properly.

The floor put itself together like it hadn’t just split open, the room quiet and no longer shaking. The contestants all looked at each other, sharing glances I didn’t understand, silent conversations happening in silence. The crowns over their head dissipated like they’d never been there at all.

I didn’t have a chance to speak or move before the doors to the throne room burst open and townspeople rushed in from the other end of the room.

“Family members,” Morton said out the side of his mouth. They were invited to join with the contestants after the first trial ended. Everyone had someone. Except Ceri. Traveling to the castle and seeing Ceri like this would’ve sent her father over the edge, something nobody wanted.

She stood there, hands twisting together as she watched the other contestants reuniting with siblings, parents, and grandparents while she remained alone in the midst of it all.

Except she wasn’t alone. As long as I was alive, Ceri would never be alone.

Before I could think, I was on my feet, rushing down the stairs of the dais and running to her. Her eyes widened as I skidded to a stop in front of her, heart still feeling so tender and huge and out of place in my body. Like it didn’t belong.

“Cillian, are you okay?” she asked. “You look like you’ve been hit by a carriage.”

“Am I okay?” I took her hand, the touch sending lightning through me. It had been a long time since I’d felt anything from such a simple touch.

In fact, I remembered the last time I’d felt this much. Over a decade ago. Right before I’d been crowned High Prince of Fairwitch. I had been holding Ceri’s hand, intending to tell her the truth about my feelings.

“Cillian.” I was wrenched from that memory as she withdrew her hand from mine and put it against my forehead. “You’re hot.”

I shot her a smile. “Thank you.”

She rolled her eyes. “I meant your forehead. It’s burning up.”

“Stop worrying about me.” Around us, family members and friends reunited with their loved ones. Lila was in her betrothed’s arms, clutching him. “I’m more concerned about you.” I trailed a finger down her arm, and I didn’t miss the small shudder that ran through her.

Bruises dotted her skin. “I’m fine. Just took a little tumble down some stairs. It’s not anything to worry about.”

Her father would have a fit, but I didn’t think reminding her of that would be helpful in the moment, so I kept my mouth shut.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” She peered at me. “And why are your eyes so red? Are you sure you’re all right?”

No. Yes. Fuck, I had no clue. All I knew was that I had to do something with the emotions coursing through me, like if I didn’t act on them, they’d consume me.