Page 92 of Heart Cradle
Eiran didn’t argue. “We need the truth before Father and Grandfather return, before the ceremony.”
As they neared the stairwell towards the great hall, the three men used magic to change their clothing. Fenric slowed, glancing over his shoulder with a strange, thoughtful look. “If he doesn’t break by tonight,” he said, voice casual but not light, “we may need to bring in Nolenne.”
Eiran clenched his jaw as sunlight spilled across the stairs. Somewhere above, Maeve, Aeilanna, and Nolenne were healing and he could not let the darkness below reach them again.
Chapter Forty-Two – The Water Holds
Steam curled lazily around the deep tub, faelights flickered along the ledges, their soft light casting golden warmth across the tiled walls of the private chamber. Maeve sank deeper into the water with a sigh, the day’s efforts catching up with her all at once. Her muscles ached, in a good way, from hours of combat, flight, and finally, her first real breakthrough with her magic. Across from her, Eiran lounged at the opposite end of the bath, one arm slung over the edge, hair damp and curling slightly from the steam.
“I’m being serious,” Maeve said between sips of chilled fruit wine, “if I’d known he was going to hand me a real blade instead of a practice one, I’d have asked for a helmet too.”
Eiran grinned, eyes warm. “I heard you didn’t need it. Soren said you moved like someone who’s been training for years.”
“He also said I move like I’m trying to disarm people with sarcasm.” Maeve smirked.
Eiran shrugged. “That isn’t far off.”
They laughed, easy and familiar. Maeve glanced over. “How did it go with Davmon?”
Eiran’s smile faded. He shifted, wiping a hand over his face. “No real progress. Still insisting on the same contradictions. Calen and Fenric are ready to throw him into the bottom pit.”
Maeve tilted her head. “And you?”
“I…” He hesitated, jaw tensing. “He’s an ignorant prick. Won’t talk and it’s futile to be honest.” His fingers twitched against his knee. “I interrogated the man who tried to kill you.”
Maeve froze. Her eyes flicked to him, something taut winding through her chest. “You… what?”
Eiran nodded once. “He talked. Not much but enough. Said he was forced to use death magic. Willed into him by a necromancer. They killed his family in front of him. The magic was designed to target any female fighting alongside the Melrathian royals.”
Maeve stared at him. “So… me, Nolenne, Aeilanna or Hayvalaine.”
Eiran nodded again. “Yes.”
Maeve looked away, lips parting slightly, breath shallow.
Eiran’s voice dropped. “He said he couldn’t even name the caster. Blood-bound to silence. But the order was clear, disable with immense pain and kill quickly. Didn’t matter who, just that they were females, and that they stood with us. And then I… ” He stopped, voice thickening. “I ended it.”
The silence between them was brittle.
“You killed him?” Her voice was tight, disbelieving.
“Yes.”
“Was he fighting?”
“No.” Eiran shook his head once. “He asked for it. Said he couldn’t go back, that death would be a mercy.”
“And you just… what, gave it to him?” she said, incredulous.
“I gave him justice.”
Maeve’s voice exploded. “That’s not fucking justice, Eiran!”
“I watched him almost kill you!”
“He was traumatised! He was broken! You said it yourself!”
“And that excuses him trying to gut you like a fucking deer?!”
