Page 45 of Crown of Roses
She shuffled over to the bed and laid out another gown. This one was a shade of coral that cut low in the front and back. Tiny pearls lined the bodice and dotted the lace sleeves. “Now, I know it’s a gown. I’m working on those leggings you require. And this one has pockets.” She cut Maeve down with a look. “But don’t you think for one minute I believe those silver cuffs on your wrists are bracelets. I don’t know what they are, but if you’re in any kind of trouble, you ought to come clean.”
Maeve tucked her hands behind her back. Her cuffs protected everyone. They were a necessity to keep her power tucked away, until she could find someone who could tell herself otherwise. “I’m not in any trouble.”
Deirdre’s lips pursed and she grunted in disbelief. “Mmhmm.” She helped Maeve slide into the gown then applied a light cream to smooth her curls. “Breakfast is already being served on the balcony this morning.”
Once Deirdre disappeared back into the hall, Maeve attached her sheath to her thigh. It wasn’t as easily accessible beneath this gown as she would’ve liked, and she really needed to see about finding a proper sword. Hers had been lost in the Fieann Forest during the Hagla’s attack. Plucking her belt of throwing stars from the nightstand, she wrapped it around her waist. It wasn’t a pretty match, but she had no plans of being left unarmed.
A moment later she was out the door, and there was Lir again. Still waiting and still scowling.
“Good morning, Lir.” She smiled up at him. He glowered down at her.
“Ah, so we’re back to the silent treatment, I see.” Maeve spun away from him and headed down the hall. “It’s strange how you’re acting like we don’t even know each other.”
If he sensed her sarcasm, she couldn’t tell, but he cleared his throat as he followed her. “Your dress is nice.”
A grin escaped her.
“Thanks.” She shoved her hands into her pockets and did a little twirl. “It’s got pockets.”
The corner of his mouth curved and it was a small enough win for her. When they rounded the corner and the door to the library came into view, Maeve slowed. But Lir nudged her forward with his palm braced against the small of her back.
“Don’t even think about it,” he warned. “Breakfast first.”
It took every effort for Maeve not to stomp off like a petulant child. “Fine.”
The scent of breakfast coming from the verandah was entirely too tempting, and the thought of books was suddenly lost to the smell of honeyed rolls, maple-covered pastries, and fried bacon. She took a quick survey of the outdoor seating area. Saoirse was sitting at a table with Ceridwen, but Rowan and Casimir were nowhere to be seen. Merrick and Brynn sat down at a smaller table closer to the railing, and Maeve bit her cheek to keep from smiling when Lir joined them, stretching out his legs, clearly enjoying being temporarily off duty.
She wasn’t that difficult of a charge.
“Morning, Maeve.” Saoirse patted the empty seat beside her. “How’d you sleep?”
Dreamlessly, for the first time ever. Soundly, and without fear. Without nightmares.
“Pretty good.” Admitting she slept outside on a chaise hardly seemed like the best course of action. “Where are Casimir and Rowan?”
Saoirse rolled her eyes and waved one hand through the air. “Casimir mentioned something about finding a place for us to train while we figure out what we’re doing here.” She grabbed a roll and spread a healthy slab of butter on top of it. “And I haven’t seen Rowan since last night.”
“Rowan and my brother are currently indisposed until this afternoon.” When Ceridwen spoke, her voice was like a song. “They’ll be along later. Care for some jam?”
She offered Maeve a plate of toast and a little pot of red jam. As much as she knew she shouldn’t, Maeve liked her. “Indisposed? Doing what, exactly?”
She imagined it had something to do with Rowan’s cuffs, and the mere thought of it caused tiny beads of sweat to prickle at the base of her neck. Even though they were cast in the shade, with the pink dawn rising behind the palace, Maeve was uncomfortably warm.
Ceridwen poured herself a mug of steaming coffee. “You have a lot of questions.”
It wasn’t a question. It was an implication.
“Yes, I do.” Maeve slathered the berry jam onto a piece of toast. “Do you have any answers?”
“Some.” Ceridwen added some cream to her coffee, then passed the pitcher to Maeve.
Blessed fae.
“The fae who sent The Scathing to Kells, her name is Parisa. She lives in Suvarese, the Crown City of the Spring Court.” Ceridwen stirred her coffee. “You’ll need to come up with a plan if you have any intentions of confronting her.”
“Confronting her?” Maeve glanced up. “She attacked my kingdom without warning. She destroyed my city and sent a mass of dark fae to do her dirty work. They wrecked my home. They ruined innocent lives. No…” She shook her head. “Confrontation won’t work.”
“Like I said.” Ceridwen was about to take a sip of her steaming coffee but then she paused, the cup halfway to her mouth. “You’ll need a plan.”
