Page 30 of This Prince Is Not Charming

I glanced at my shoulder, then back to Margaret. “Me and the cat? Really?”

Meera licked her paw. “You could do a whole lot worse. I’m a grand time, you know.”

“I was just delivering messages to your council members,” Margaret said. “I told them emergency meeting first thing in the morning like you instructed.”

We’d have to meet and discuss what the fuck had happened to Liadan and what we were going to do about it. Margaret was able to move from painting to painting in the castle, and she was good at finding people.

I stared at the painting, an idea forming. “Margaret, can you track down Fargus for me? Tell him I have an important task for him.” If anyone could find the faerie, it would be her.

She clapped. “Ooh, another job! I’ll be right back!” That was the thing I liked about Margaret: she was always excited about the tasks I assigned her.

She dashed out of the painting, then appeared in the next one hanging on the wall, disappearing again, jumping from image to image until she was out of the hallway.

Meera tilted her head. “That was an interesting trick.”

“You’ve never met Margaret?”

“Like many of the faeries, I stay away from this castle and its magic as much as possible.”

Meera glared at a painting of Fairwitch that Margaret had jumped through. Fairwitch’s ebony skin and golden eyes had a glow about them that the artist had managed to capture. They wore silk trousers while flowing silks and sheer fabric covered the upper half of their body, slits revealing a toned stomach and muscled arms. I didn’t even know what to call what they wore. A blouse, maybe? Ceri would know. Their outfit reminded me of something she would create: something bold, beautiful, ethereal.

I glanced at Meera, who was still glaring at the painting. “Right. I know the faeries have a complicated history with Fairwitch.”

“Fairwitch created us to be their slaves. The history books might tell some whimsical tale of Fairwitch using their magic to make the Fair Folk, who were just so happy to be created that we bowed at their feet.”

That was actually the story we’d been told in school. Though most thought the Fair Folk were a myth. It wasn’t until they’d appeared and saved us from the Brotherhood of Magic over two years ago that we’d discovered they were actually real. That the truth was far darker than anyone had imagined and that Fairwitch had cursed the Fair Folk, rendering them invisible.

After all these years, the Fair Folk could finally interact with humans, even if it was only those of us who lived in Fairwitch Isle.

“What was it like being invisible for all these years?” I asked Meera.

The cat hissed at the painting. “What do you think it was like? We’re unable to procreate with each other, and although the Fair Folk live long lives, we were dying out and couldn’t do a bloody thing about it. We lost so many.” She swallowed, and for the first time I thought about how truly awful that must’ve been.

Since we’d arrived here, I’d been tirelessly working to bring our communities together, hosting dinners and dances and offering to give the Fair Folk positions of power, but I’d never actually asked them how they were doing, how they felt. I was so used to feeling numb that I expected everyone else to feel that way too.

“Well, we are changing that.”

“I’ve yet to see any younglings born,” Meera said.

That was true, but we’d only been here two years. More relationships between the faeries and humans would emerge, and we’d repopulate the Fair Folk and Fairwitch Isle. We’d all benefit.

At least that was the hope. Part of me worried that everything about what was happening to Fairwitch Isle was my fault, that somehow something about me as high prince weakened all of us. But then, why wouldn’t Castle just remove me and choose someone else? I shook my head. It was pointless asking questions I’d never get answers to.

“You’re looking jumpy again.” Meera’s tail flicked the back of my neck. “Like you’re about to sprint down the hallway and disappear.”

“I’m fine,” I said, but for the first time in a long time, I tasted the lie. I didn’t feel fine at all, but that would change as soon as I got more of my tonic.

“Bad news.” Margaret reappeared in the painting of the sea.

I narrowed my eyes at her. “What?”

“Fargus is nowhere to be found.”

I groaned. “No, no, no.”

I couldn’t handle another day feeling like this. My skin crawled, my heart raced. My appetite was gone, and I could feel it all ballooning inside me. I’d get worse until I actually did explode or lose my mind.

“You have to find him.” I knew this was selfish and unfair, but it didn’t stop the words from coming out of my mouth. “Don’t stop searching until you do.”