Page 29 of Crown of Roses
“Nothing.” She waved her hand in dismissal of the thought. “Night, Cas.”
“Goodnight.” Casimir opened the door for her and she wandered down the autumn-hued halls.
Aran’s vessel was resplendent. Golden scrollwork of leaves crawled along the ceiling and colored lanterns of deep amber and crimson glowed overhead. But the lighting wasn’t a bulb or the flicker of a flame. It was something else entirely. Faerie fire. Carved door knobs shaped like twisted branches invited her to peer into every room, and running windows of stained glass depicted scenes from what she could only assume was the Autumn Court. There was a mountain range set against the backdrop of a harvest moon, and a valley of trees whose bark was as white as snow, but whose leaves were lit up like fire. And then there was a palace…
She was half-tempted to reach up and run her finger along the beautiful edges of the glass palace walls, but the door right next to her burst open, and Saoirse popped her head out.
“Maeve, there you are!” Her hushed whisper was obnoxiously loud and she gestured for Maeve to follow her into the room. “This one has a big bed, so I figured we could share.”
Maeve smiled and followed behind her. The room was small, but cozy, and draped in decadent hues of aubergine, marigold, and sapphire. Jewel-toned pillows were piled on top of an ebony bed, making it glitter like a crown. A gilded mirror hung on one wall and a wardrobe was positioned on the other. It was a room fitting for a princess.
The sort of room Maeve had never been given.
Saoirse stretched out like a languid cat, then curled her legs back up. A yawn stifled her words. “I know it’s late, but the bathroom is fantastic if you want to freshen up before bed.”
Maeve unhooked her corset and took off her boots. She pulled the pins from her hair and set them on the glossy nightstand next to the bed. “Perfect. I’ll try not to wake you when I’m done.”
But Saoirse was already waving her off, her eyelids too heavy, much like Maeve’s heart.
She stepped into the bathroom and wasted no time soaking in her luxurious surroundings. Shimmery gold marble with streaks of iridescent champagne lined the walls. It was another overhead faucet, just like the one back home, except the water which poured over her was hot, and fragrant, and came down with the kindness of a gentle rainfall instead of a bruising blast. She tipped her head back and let the water soak her hair, her body, and rinse away her worries. Maeve scrubbed her face and stared down at the silver cuffs bound to her wrists.
To protect us. To keep the monster away.
Carman’s words played back in her mind and doubt burrowed its way into her heart. What if she was cursed with dark fae magic? What if she was a monster? What if part of the darkness looming inside her came from Carman herself?
She stood in the glass-enclosed stall until steam filled the room with the delectable scent of cinnamon and earthy florals. Until her skin was pink from the burning heat of the water. Until she remembered why she was going to Faeven in the first place.
To save Kells. To break her curse. To take her crown.
Chapter Eleven
It wasn’t the early beams of dawn that woke Maeve from a fitful slumber, it was the sensation of being watched. Maeve’s eyes flew open to see Rowan’s face inches from her own. His hand clamped over her mouth to silence her scream and on instinct, she reached for her dagger strapped to her thigh. The tips of her fingers barely grazed the hilt when he smiled, and put one finger to his lips. Then he nodded to where Saoirse slept on the other side of the bed, half naked, with a blade gripped firmly in her fist. Even in sleep, she was lethal.
“Come with me.” Rowan’s whisper floated over her, and tingles shivered from her shoulders to her toes. “There’s something I want to show you.”
Maeve propped herself up on her elbows. “Can I get dressed first?”
His eyes lit with interest and his gaze trailed down her body, skimmed over the threadbare cotton blouse she wore. Her skin went hot beneath the intensity of his stare. When he spoke, his voice was dry. “Yes.”
Maeve climbed out of bed and let Rowan get away with brushing his fingers along the tops of her thighs when she slid past him. She gathered up her clothing and disappeared into the bathroom, reappearing a few minutes later fresh-faced and fully clothed.
He stuck his bottom lip out in a pout. “I missed the show.”
Her lips twitched. “Pity.”
Rowan extended his hand, and with a cautious glance back at the sleeping Saoirse, Maeve accepted. He led her from the room to the starboard side of the ship. He gestured to the horizon, to the stunning sunrise, where the sky was awash with ruby and bronze. Teal waves were dipped in gold like a watercolor painting brought to life. It was breathtaking. She wanted to ingrain this moment in her mind, to never forget the beauty of the realm. The world shimmered in an explosion of radiance, and a burst of magic coated her skin. Orange blossom and cedarwood filled her senses, and made her feel alive.
She knew in her soul, down to her core, they’d entered Faeven.
“Sun and sky,” Maeve breathed.
“Literally.” Rowan smiled and Maeve drifted closer to him. “Where do you think that phrase originated?”
Her mouth fell open. She never considered the possibility that words she spoke, phrases of little consequence, could be centuries old. They stood there until the sun rose higher, rising up from the east, and drenching the sky in shades of blush and turquoise. Ribbons of warmth caressed her skin and wisps of snowy white clouds swirled across the horizon. She didn’t know how much time had passed, but she knew she was terrified to look away or even blink, for fear of missing the dawn’s glory. “It’s beautiful.”
“Mm.” Rowan nodded his head, his eyes on her. “It is.”
“You’re doing it again.”
