When Kings Fall (The O’Sullivan’s Brides #3)

CHAPTER FOURNiamh

CHAPTER FOUR

Niamh

I SIT OUTSIDE the building, my leg bouncing uncontrollably as I wait. I try to stop it, willing my muscles to calm down, but it’s useless. The movement is involuntary, a tell-tale sign of nerves that I can’t hide. I know what I must look like to anyone passing by—like some strung-out junkie desperately seeking a fix. Especially in this part of town, where every car that drives by is worth more than a small house, and the clothes the people wear cost as much as rent. It’s a playground for the rich, for people who never have to worry about things like this.

The cold bites at my skin, the only thing keeping me from drifting off. I’m still exhausted from falling into the river yesterday; the memory of icy water dragging me under flashes in my mind, making me shiver again. I should be home resting, curled up in the warmth of a bed. But I needed to be here. There was no other choice. No time to waste.

Diarmuid was furious when I told him this morning. He wanted me to wait, to give him time to rearrange his schedule so he could take me himself. But I couldn’t. Not this time. The urgency burned too hot, too real, and I had to move now. Of course, he didn’t just let me go without protection—his men are here, hidden in the crowd. I can feel their presence more than see them. Even when Diarmuid isn’t physically with me, he’s watching over me, keeping me safe.

The doors to the building swing open, and people begin to spill out. They’re all impossibly fit, moving with a grace that seems almost unnatural, like they’re gliding above the pavement. Men and women alike, all with bodies sculpted into V-shaped frames, their every step exuding confidence. A few stop to chat with one another, their laughter bright and carefree. But I’m not here for them.

My eyes scan the crowd, searching, until they land on her—a lithe woman, slightly apart from the others. She walks alone, her steps unhurried, almost as if she’s in no rush to get anywhere.

I stand up, raising my arms, trying to get her attention. My heart races as I watch her, willing her to see me. At first, Ella doesn’t recognize me, her eyes skimming over me like I’m just another face in the crowd. But then, something clicks, and recognition dawns on her face. The smile that follows is like the sun breaking through clouds—bright, warm, and so achingly beautiful that it nearly brings me to tears.

She adjusts the strap of her duffle bag and sprints toward me, her feet barely touching the ground. I brace myself, but when she leaps into my arms, the impact almost knocks me over. My knees buckle under her weight, and I nearly collapse.

"Niamh! I’m sorry! Are you alright?" she exclaims, her voice full of concern as she pulls back to look at me.

"Fine," I manage to say, forcing a smile. "Just tired."

Ella’s brow furrows as she studies me, her eyes scanning my face. "You look sick. What happened to you?"

I shake my head, dismissing her concern with a wave of my hand. "None of that matters right now. It’s so good to see you."

Ella doesn’t push further, but I can see the worry still etched on her face. She guides me over to a nearby bench, her hand firm on my arm as if she’s afraid I might fall over if she lets go. We sit down, the cold metal of the bench seeping through my clothes, but I don’t care. I’m here with Ella, and that’s all that matters.

Around us, the other dancers are getting into their cars, some with their parents, others on their own. I know our time is limited; our mother could show up any moment, and I don’t have long to say what I need to say.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself before I ask, "How are things at home?"

Ella hesitates, her eyes flickering with something I can’t quite read. "Well, you’re a taboo subject now."

"Really?" I ask, though I’m not entirely surprised.

"Yeah," she sighs. "No one’s allowed to bring you up, say your name, anything. Mom put a padlock on your bedroom door."

I let out a low whistle, shaking my head. "That’s a big deal if she messed up the paint on the door frame for that."

Ella nods, a small, rueful smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah, it’s serious."

I try to laugh, but it comes out hollow. The idea of my room locked away like some forbidden relic stings more than I want to admit. But I push the feeling aside—there’s no time for that now. I need to focus on Ella, on why I’m here.

Ella laughs, a light, carefree sound that feels like a balm to my weary soul. The corners of her eyes crinkle with genuine joy, and for a fleeting moment, it's as if the weight of our realities melts away. Her laughter fills the space; I cling to this moment, to the brightness in her eyes, knowing how rare it has become. It’s so good to see her like this, even if it’s just for a moment.

Everything I’ve been through—every hardship, every sacrifice—has been for the person standing in front of me. I look at her, really look at her.Our mother wants Ella to be the perfect prima donna ballerina, the one who fulfills her dreams of fame and grace, the puppet master pulling strings with fingers made of ambition and steel. She pushes Ella, sometimes to the brink, sculpting her into an image of perfection that could shatter with a single misstep.

But our father... he needed a Bride to secure the Hands of Kings, a fate I was chosen for. A pawn in a game I never wanted to play, yet here I am, having been moved across the board by forces beyond my control.

And that’s what haunts me. Because if I fail... if I don’t play my cards right, this same cruel fate could fall onto Ella. The thought claws at my insides, a gnawing fear that I can’t shake. I imagine her in my place, her laughter replaced by tears, her grace turned into a weapon against her own spirit. I can’t let that happen. I won’t let that happen.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself against the wave of emotions that threatens to overwhelm me. The air between us seems to thicken, charged with the unspoken words hanging in the balance. "Ella, I actually wanted to talk to you about something important."

Her smile fades slightly, replaced by concern as she leans in, her eyes searching mine for clues. There’s a slight furrow in her brow, a sign that she senses something is wrong. "Anything."

I hesitate for a moment, but there’s no easy way to say this. The truth is a heavy burden, one that I’ve carried alone for too long. But now, it’s time to share it with her, even if it means shattering the fragile peace she’s found in this moment. "Well, you know how I went away to date that man?"

"The businessman. Yes," she nods, her brow furrowing further as she tries to piece together the puzzle I’m laying out for her.

Right, the businessman. That’s the lie they fed her to explain my sudden disappearance. A simple story to mask the dark undercurrents of our reality. She has no idea that the "business" Diarmuid runs is anything but legitimate. I can see the trust in her eyes, the belief that I’ve been out living a life she can only imagine from the confines of her dance studio. My stomach churns with guilt, a sickening twist that almost makes me want to keep up the charade, to protect her from the ugly truth. But I push forward, knowing that I can’t keep this from her any longer.

"Look, Elle, Da made an arrangement where I had to go with this man."

Ella’s eyes widen in shock. The color drains from her face, leaving her pale and almost ghostly. "What? How? How is that a thing in this day and age?"

"It isn’t supposed to be," I admit, my voice tight with the weight of everything I’ve kept hidden. The words taste bitter on my tongue, but they need to be said. "But it happened."

Her face twists in confusion and disbelief. I watch as her mind races to comprehend what I’m telling her, to reconcile the father she knows with the one who would make such an unthinkable deal. "That doesn’t make sense. How could he do that? There is no way it’s legal."

I try to keep the sadness from showing, but Ella knows me too well. She’s always been able to read me like an open book, seeing through the facades I’ve tried to build. The horror that spreads across her face makes my heart ache, a sharp pain that lances through me as I see the realization dawn in her eyes. This is the moment I’ve dreaded, the one where the truth finally sinks in, and she understands just how precarious our lives have become. The innocence in her gaze shatters, replaced by a growing fear that mirrors my own.

"Niamh, what’s going on? Are you in trouble?"

I look away, swallowing the lump in my throat. "No. Well, yes, but not exactly. I got really lucky, Ella. I’m with a man who takes care of me. I’m very safe as long as I’m with him."

Ella’s expression hardens, her worry turning into something more intense. "And if you’re not with him?"

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I say, my voice trembling slightly. “We don’t have much time, so I can’t explain everything, but I need to be chosen by this man. And... I don’t think he’s going to choose me.”

Ella’s eyes narrow in confusion. “Choose you? You mean there are other women?”

“It’s complicated,” I admit, struggling to find the right words. “But if he doesn’t choose me, Da will try to arrange something like this for you next. We can’t let that happen.”

Before I can say more, Ella shushes me. The sound is so unexpected, so out of character for her, that I stop mid-sentence, staring at her in surprise. She’s never done anything like this before. My little sister, who’s always been the obedient one, suddenly raises her chin, and something new blooms in her expression. It’s a determination I’ve seen many times when she’s dancing, but this is different—something fierier, more intense. It’s something I realize I don’t possess myself.

“Well, that is not going to happen, and it doesn’t matter if you get chosen,” she declares, her voice firm and unyielding.

“Ella, you don’t understand,” I begin, trying to make her see the gravity of the situation.

“I don’t need to,” she cuts me off, her tone fierce. “Pardon my language, but fuck Da if he thinks he can make these kinds of decisions for us.”

“Ella, he can,” I say, my frustration growing. “That’s what I’m trying to—”

“No,” she interrupts again, her voice rising with conviction. “This isn’t happening. This is not the 1800s. We are modern women, and these things don’t happen in the modern world. And if they do, we’ll figure something out.”

I shake my head, the weight of reality pressing down on me. “I don’t see how we can do anything.”

"Me either," Ella says, her voice softer now, but still resolute. "But something will come to us."

She glances over her shoulder, checking the time on her phone. The moment is slipping away, and I can see the shift in her as she stands up, adjusting the strap of her bag. She leans forward and presses a kiss to my forehead, a tender gesture that makes my chest tighten.

"Thank you for telling me about this," she says, her eyes meeting mine with a mix of gratitude and determination. "Even if it gets bad, we’re going to get through this. I promise."

I nod, my throat too tight to speak, as I watch her jog across the street. She moves with the grace of a dancer, even when she’s just rushing to meet our mother. And then, almost on cue, I see the familiar white Lexus pull up to the curb. Zara Connolly doesn’t even glance in my direction; her entire focus is on Ella, her prized daughter. I sit there, just a few hundred yards away, invisible to her as always.

Ella gets into the car, and I watch as they drive off, the distance between us growing with every second. Once they’re gone, I tuck my hair behind my ear—a silent signal to the men in the crowd. They’ll know it means I’m ready to leave. After seeing the danger that Selene had, the lengths Diarmuid went to get her back, I knew my chances of being selected continued to dwindle. The way he held her when they returned home, I was a ghost to them, fading by the second, and as I faded from her radar, I feared Ella would be seen but by the wrong man. Not someone kind like Diarmuid.

As the car takes me back, I stare out the window, the city blurring past. Ella’s words echo in my mind, but I know she doesn’t fully grasp the reality of the situation. There’s nothing a teenage girl can do to fix this. Not in the world we’ve been thrust into.

The weight of it presses down on me, heavier with each passing moment. As much as it terrifies me, I realize I’m the one who has to find a way out of this nightmare. It’s on me to protect Ella, to ensure she doesn’t suffer the same fate.

Because if I fail... Ella is doomed.