Page 12 of Heart Cradle
“Is that so?” he asked, too smoothly.
His voice did that thing again, low, warm, threaded with something she wasn’t ready to name. The way he was looking at her now, eyes narrowed just a little, corners of his mouth twitching like he knew exactly what effect he was having, it didn’t help.
Maeve sat down again, too quickly, like her body had decided without her and she stared at him. “You’ve got suspiciously good hair for a stress delivery service.”
Eiran leaned back, eyes dancing. “And you’re handling this exceptionally well, considering your mate is this fucking handsome, and you’ve somehow found the fae realm’s most unpredictable magical artefact.” He grinned at her eyeroll. “And you’re wearing it, casually. Like it’s not usually locked in a vault guarded by wards and enchantments and, I don’t know, maybe a cursed beast or two.”
“Don’t flatter me,” she said.
“I wouldn’t dare,” he said, soft.
The silence stretched between them and Maeve glanced down at the bracelet, the Chain. It pulsed again, not just responding, but as if it were trying to commune.
“It’s like it knows me,” she murmured. “Like it’s trying to speak. It hums, pulses, whispers. It feels, is that just magic.”
Eiran’s brow creased. “It’s never done that before. Not that I’ve heard anyway. It’s never even been worn, not by a living fae bearer.”
Maeve looked up, startled. “I’m not fae.”
He met her gaze without flinching. “Not yet.”
A beat as her eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”
Eiran’s voice was calm, almost serene. “Being fae is something you can become. Anyone who lives long enough in the Fae Lands begins to change. We’re a species that is the result of magic.”
She stared. “So that’s it? I step over a threshold and suddenly I’m not human anymore?”
“It’s not sudden,” he said gently. “But yes, eventually. The land awakens you, piece by piece. It’s not blood that defines fae, Maeve. It’s the magic that seeps into you.”
Maeve took a slow sip of her coffee. “Magic. How does it actually work?”
“It’s not like your stories,” Eiran said. “No hexes, no wands or Latin chants. In our realm, magic responds to intention, what you want, what you feel, what you believe, deep down. Runes and sigils can guide it, transform it, but most of it comes through the body, through will.”
Maeve tilted her head. “That sounds dangerous.”
“It can be,” he admitted. “That’s why the Chain matters. It helps focus power. We have schools, guides, structure, but some are born stronger, and some…” He met her eyes. “Some, like you, are unexpected.”
She blinked. “Because I’m human?”
Eiran nodded, slow. “I don’t think there’s ever been a bond like this. Not between fae and human. Maybe that’s why they’re so rare, we don’t mix often enough to find them.”
Maeve looked down at the bracelet again. The stones shimmered faintly in the dying light, like they were listening. “And... is this a good thing?” she asked, meeting his gaze.
Eiran hesitated, then, softly, like the truth had weight. “I think it’s the beginning of something we haven’t seen in a very long time, maybe not ever, love.”
?????
The sun had long since dipped behind the terracotta rooftops, casting the city in the kind of warmth that softened even the harshest edges. The café stayed open late, and no one rushed them. It had emptied slowly around them, tables clearing and candles flickering low. A single string of lights buzzed overhead, lending the moment a kind of suspended intimacy.
“He said, ‘Smile, gorgeous,’” Maeve mimicked the oily tone perfectly.
Eiran leaned back in his chair, laughing, not polite and definitely not princely. Real, loud, undignified laughter that drew a few glances from passersby but he didn’t seem to care.
Maeve sipped her coffee, unimpressed. “Are you quite finished?”
He wiped at his eye, still grinning. “You told a London bus driver, very loudly, that if he wanted to flirt, he should try growing a neck first.”
“I was being generous,” she said, cool as anything. “I could’ve gone for his ears instead.”
