Page 51 of Heart Cradle
“No one’s been able to wield skyfire in centuries,” he went on. “Not since the magic began to fade. The others that held it… they went dormant, waiting. Perhaps, hoping.”
“For the Chain?” she asked, incredulous.
“Yes and maybe for someone who could use it.” His voice softened.
She looked up sharply, eyes meeting his. “But I’m not of this world.”
“That’s what makes it matter more,” he said. “Melrathen doesn’t just keep its own magic, it calls out to what’s missing. To what was lost, love. You didn’t come here by accident. I don’t think the Chain fell into your path by chance.”
A breeze stirred, lifting strands of her hair as the lights of the city flickered below them. “Then what is it?” she asked, voice a whisper. “The Chain. The bond. Me.”
Eiran stepped, brushing his thumb lightly against her wrist, just beside the bracelet’s edge. “It’s Melrathen remembering itself,” he said. “Through you.”
Maeve swallowed, the air thick with something older than magic, certainty. She turned suddenly, stepping back from the edge of the balcony. “Eiran?”
He looked up, wine glass still in hand. “Hmm?”
“Its not… I don’t think that is right,” she hesitated, fingers curling into her palm. “I haven’t changed.”
His brow furrowed. “Changed?”
“My fae form,” she said, voice barely above a breath. “I haven’t taken it, I haven’t even felt it. Shouldn’t I have… by now? If I’m… if this is real? Aeilanna said I would awaken before now”
Eiran didn’t answer right away. He set his glass down on the ledge and moved towards her with a slow easy step, like approaching a startled animal, and he hated how accurate the comparison felt. “Maeve,” he said gently, “you’re not late. There’s no schedule, some really bad shit has happened to you recently...”
“But I should have.” She said, still not meeting his gaze.
“There’s no should,” he interrupted softly. “Fae awakenings don’t follow rules. They happen when your body and your magic both decide they’re ready.”
“But what if it never happens?” she pressed. “What if I can’t awaken? What if I’m stuck like this, some weird, weak mortal human with no power, no place, and a very magical artifact on my wrist?”
“Never is such a strong word.” Eiran’s mouth twitched, “and if you don’t, then that’s fine too.”
“Eiran.” She groaned turning away, but he caught her gently by the arm.
“What?” His voice was quieter now. “You are not broken. This is all new, a new world, new magic and new rules. Your form will come when your magic stops trying to protect you and starts trusting you, and when you trust it back.”
She still couldn’t look at him.
“So…” he added lightly, “maybe start by not calling yourself a weird, weak, mortal human?”
That got her and she huffed a laugh, despite herself. “You’re bloody impossible, so fucking dramatic and cheesy.”
“And you’re fucking stunning,” he replied, brushing a knuckle down her cheek. “Even like this, especially like this.”
She met his gaze, unsure whether to be comforted or afraid of how easily he could settle the storm in her. “What if I lose myself in it?” She whispered.
Eiran tilted his head. “Then I’ll find you every time, always.”
She stared at him. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It’s not,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not worth doing.”
Chapter Twenty – Soul Stitched
There was a pause as they stood in the bedroom, in the flickering firelight, heat pooling between them. Gods, Maeve was beautiful, and with every breath she took near Eiran, tugged at something deep and yearning in his chest.
“I can arrange for you to have your own chamber, if that makes you more comfortable,” he said softly. “There’s an entire wing, if you prefer privacy.”
