Page 9 of Heart Cradle
There he was, sitting on the steps, legs long, arms resting on his knees. Talking softly to a scrappy street cat curled in his lap. "You are a queen," he murmured to the cat. "A true terror of the back alleys. Tell me, do they tremble before you, your Grace?"
Maeve stared at him and Eiran turned. There was no surprise on his face, just warm relief, with a hint of sheepishness and perhaps a flickerof uncertainty that vanished too quickly to be sure. That bloody voice, smooth, dark, and entirely too pleased with itself.
"Before you say anything, yes. I’m fully aware of how I look right now. Lurking and whispering to a cat." He gave her a slow smile, deliberately cautious, like a man standing in a minefield barefoot and trying to charm the terrain.
"I debated knocking. Then I saw this magnificent creature," he nodded to the cat, "and figured I had a better chance of being forgiven if I looked like a lunatic and not a threat."
Maeve crossed her arms. "Did you follow me?"
His brows lifted. "No, I didn’t need to. You were…" He paused, searching for the right word. "Loud, not literally, just... everywhere. Like a pull in my chest I couldn’t ignore."
She narrowed her eyes. "That’s not comforting."
"No," he agreed, tilting his head, voice velvet-smooth and unapologetic. "But it is honest. I warned you, I’m terrible at polite lies."
He glanced down at the cat again, scratched gently beneath her chin now. "Though she, at least, seems to find me incredibly charming."
Maeve said nothing. He looked up at her again, slower this time. Like he didn’t want to spook her, as if he was asking her to stay before she could bolt again. "I just needed to know you were alright," he said softly. "Not pushing, not asking anything. Just here, just me."
Her lip twitched trying to deflect. "Magnificent creature? A street cat."
"She is a lady," he said, affronted. "We were discussing turf disputes and fish bones. Until you rudely interrupted."
Her lip twitched again. “God help me.”
He set the cat down gently. "I wanted to give you space. I did, but the pull was too strong. Not to the Chain, to you. I swear I will not hurt you." He rose slowly, palms open. "Forget the Chain. I would destroy the fucking thing it if it meant you felt safe."
She stared at him, at the sincerity that glowed like a second skin and she zipped her jacket up higher. "No I…I think I need the Chain.”
Eiran raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.
“You touched me and flipped my entire life inside out," Maeve said, flatly. "Do you have any idea what that feels like?"
He met her gaze. "Yes."
"Do not say that unless you mean it."
"I mean it." A pause. "I am a fae prince. I waited three hundred and forty-nine years for my bound, Maeve.”
Maeve gave a small harsh laugh, “349 years?”
“We have very long lives. Which means far too long to imagine how it might go, meeting her… you. I’ll admit, I didn’t picture the panic, or the fleeing, or so much bloody swearing.”
"Don’t," she warned, but a true laugh cracked out of her anyway.
“I’m yours, but still myself. You’re mine, but still you. That’s what this is, we’re us.” He caught her exasperated look and winked, shamelessly. “I’m not here to trap or trick you. I just want to know you, to help you. If you decide that’s not what you want, then I’ll step back. You can tell me to get fucked and I’ll leave. I swear it.”
Maeve’s heart did something traitorous, something soft, and she let it. Just this once, just to see how it felt. She blew out a breath and sat beside him on the step. The cat climbed into her lap as though she had always belonged there and for the first time in a long time, Maeve did not feel like prey, she just felt watched over. Which was worse, in some ways, because she could survive being hunted, she had survived being hunted, but she did not know if she could survive being seen.
Chapter Seven – The Rickety Armchair
The Lisbon streets gleamed in the late afternoon sun, the buildings casting long shadows as Maeve and Eiran walked in rhythm through narrow cobbled lanes. The air buzzed with warmth and a weekend type of ease. Families strolled past withice cream and cameras, and all totally unaware that the woman beside them was walking with a fae prince.
Maeve still felt half unhinged, but her legs kept moving. “Start at the beginning,” she said, finally. “No more cryptic soulmate bollocks. Please… just talk to me like I’m a person. A person having an insane week, an insane year.”
Eiran gave her a rueful smile. “Deal.”
He tucked his hands in his pockets, guiding her around a corner where the street opened up into a sun-drenched square, the smell of sea breeze wafting in.
