Page 70 of Heart Cradle
Eiran leaned back in his chair, smirking. “He is a mighty dragon. He just has… personality.”
“He’s got no brakes.”
“He’ll develop some, you can help.”
“He flew straight into a statue. Twice,” Maeve corrected.
Eiran held up his hands. “Alright. But in his defence, he was distracted.”
“By a butterfly, probably.”
Jeipier gave a short, indignant chirp and flopped closer to Maeve, resting his head near her feet like a sulky, oversized dog now. She looked down at him, eyes flashing in amusement. “He’s listening, isn’t he?”
“Every word,” Eiran said, laughing. “And if I had to bet, I’d say he’s making a list.”
Maeve reached out and scratched behind Jeipier’s ear. “I’m not wrong though, am I, baby dragon?”
Jeipier snorted again, and Eiran added, “Once he gets his first ride, you’ll be able to speak to each other properly.”
Maeve gave Eiran a look. “Good, because I could really use some decent conversation in this bloody keep.”
Eiran leaned closer, dropping his voice. “Look, you’re both new to this. He might fly like a brick right now, but he’ll keep you in the air no matter what.”
Maeve gave him a side glance. “Even if I scream the entire time?”
“Especially if you scream the entire time.”
She huffed, but a small smile tugged at her lips. “Fine. But if I die by dragon nose-dive, I’m haunting you.”
Eiran grinned. “Oh, you already do, love.”
Chapter Thirty-One – Before the Fire
After the quiet dinner with just Eiran and Branfil, Maeve had felt strangely full. Not just from the food, but from the stillness and the comfort of it all. No expectations, just a meal, shared in low light, with soft conversation and warm glances. When Branfil had excused himself with a knowing smile and a respectful nod, the silence that followed wasn’t awkward, it was just… expectant. She lay sprawled on a thick rug before the fire now, content and watching the flames dance while the heat kissed her skin. Eiran was behind her, settled on the sofa, eyes on her like she was something sacred to be treasured. She let out a satisfied sigh, “if I’d known fae food was that good, I’d have awakened as one years ago.”
Eiran gave a soft chuckle, his eyes were fixed on her, and after a beat, he spoke, quiet and rough. “You were unconscious for five nights,” he said. “It was one of the worst weeks of my life.”
Maeve blinked, taken off guard by the bluntness of it. She turned her head, watching him through the flickering firelight.
“I think...” He hesitated, then looked away, his voice almost a whisper. “The only other time I felt anything close to that level of terror was when you and Aeilanna were taken.”
Maeve exhaled slowly, absorbing the weight of it. “Not exactly a man unacquainted with trauma, then?”
To her surprise, he smiled, faint and self-deprecating. “Actually, that’s the thing… I haven’t really had much of it. I was born into privilege, loved by my parents.” He shrugged slightly. “My grandfather indulged me, my best friend became my brother. I was given Xelaini when I was five for fuck’s sake. A hatchling as a named companion.”
He gave a soft scoff. “So yes, you lying there, lifeless, not knowing if you’d wake again… it was worse than the wars, worse than any battlefield. It was helplessness, and I don’t think I’ve ever truly known what that felt like until you.”
Maeve stared at him, heart stuttering, something squeezing in her chest. She didn’t speak, instead she turned to him and patted the space beside her. Eiran didn’t hesitate, he stretched out on the rug beside her, his fingers brushed over her cheek, then gently traced her slightly pointed fae ear. She didn’t flinch at the gesture, she just let him look.
“I’m sorry… for trying to make things easier. For treating you like a passenger, like a doll. I thought I was helping. I thought I was making it bearable, but it was control. Even if I didn’t mean it to be… it was still that.” His throat worked as he swallowed, voice hoarse. “I’m sorry for pushing myself on you. For telling you I loved you when you weren’t ready. I didn’t know how to hold it in. I was ready and you weren’t… aren’t and I didn’t ever give you time.”
He blinked quickly, eyes shining in the firelight. “I’m just... sorry.”
Maeve reached out and touched the small patch of skin at the base of his throat, where his shirt had slipped open. Her fingers traced his pulse, steady beneath the surface. “I love you, Eiran,” she said simply.
His brows drew together slightly, as though he wasn’t sure he’d heard her right.
“I knew it the moment I was in that stone cell,” she continued. “I couldn’t feel you. When everything inside me screamed for you, ached for you. I didn’t say your name because... I didn’t want them to tie you to me fully. I didn’t want to endanger you, that was my only goal.”
