Page 62 of Crown of Roses
He nodded and Maeve looked at both of them. With the exception of obvious lines of worry, they were in perfect health. No marks or bruises. No signs of being harmed in any way. It was strange how they weren’t at the battle. Surely Casimir’s skill with a sword could’ve come in handy when battling the dark fae…unless Tiernan thought he might use it against him, which was also probably likely.
“Is it true you were attacked in your room?” Saoirse’s gaze shifted from her to the double glass doors leading to her balcony, and back again.
“It’s true.” Maeve didn’t want to remember the spiders pouring from the mouth and eyes of the creature that came for her. “Two dark fae were in my room.”
Casimir shoved up from the bed and headed straight to the balcony doors. He ran his hands along the frame of the wood and Maeve noticed the slight shimmer in the space between. The tremor of magic. “How did they get past the wards?”
“I don’t know.” Maeve didn’t even know wards had been placed around her bedroom, or anywhere else for that matter. The thought hadn’t even occurred to her.
“It doesn’t matter.” Saoirse’s tone was sharp. Dismissive. “The fact is they did. And we must be prepared if it happens again.”
“You know it will. I have no desire to be shuffled into a safer area. I’m a warrior; we all are. And I would rather stand and fight.” Casimir’s fist clenched, then relaxed. “Especially now that Rowan is gone.”
“I can’t believe that bastard left us here.” Saoirse’s face pinched with tempered wrath. “I swear, the next time I see him, I’ll kill him.”
“You and me both,” Maeve added, though she wasn’t sure if she really meant it. Movement flashed from the corner of her eye. Startled, she looked over to see Ceridwen standing by her door. She was ethereal. A goddess of sunshine and summer. Her gown of turquoise fell in tiny waterfalls down to the floor. Ribbons the shade of the sky were plaited into her golden hair, and her ruby lips curved into a kind smile. Maeve watched her, and as she did, a resonating warmth filled her from the inside out. It eased the tension from her bones, soothed away the discomfort and soreness from her tired body.
“It was you,” Maeve croaked in disbelief, and when she struggled to sit up fully, Casimir slipped an arm behind her back to offer support. But she didn’t look away from the Archfae. “You…you helped me. Just now. And again when Rowan left, when I was…”
A wreck.
Ceridwen’s smile widened.
“How did you do it?” The obvious answer was magic, but it was more profound. Her power was unsettling. It was unique. Remarkable.
Ceridwen glided into the room, her movements fluid like spun silk. “I can control emotions,” she said simply, like it was easy. “And make people feel a certain way.”
Saoirse edged back, affronted. “That sounds somewhat intrusive.”
“Only when wielded for the wrong reasons.” Ceridwen tilted her head and clasped her hands in front of her, showing off her gold-dusted floral tattoos. “I can also read auras. I can discern a fae’s magical abilities, if they have any at all, and I do…other things.”
“Aura readings?” The mere idea of it immediately put Maeve on edge. It brought back a rush of horrid memories from the attack on Kells, from the fortune teller’s tent. Another swift pulse of calmness spread through her.
Ceridwen. She was doing it again. Whatever “it” was.
“How?” Saoirse asked, now intrigued, already forgetting Ceridwen could literally control their emotions during any situation. “What do these auras tell you?”
“I suppose it’s similar to knowing a person’s soul.” Her words were lyrical, with a kind of musical quality. Soft and pretty, like a love song.
“Fascinating,” Casimir murmured. But Maeve wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic or not.
“Saoirse, your aura is royal blue with streaks of silver.” Ceridwen’s turquoise gaze locked onto her. “Representing strength, valor, love, and beauty.”
Saoirse flipped her braid of moonlight over one shoulder. “So, basically I’m a badass.”
Casimir laughed. He actually laughed. The sound was so shocking, and so unexpected, everyone stared at him. His dimple winked.
Maeve shifted and Casimir stuck a pillow behind her to keep her propped up. “What about me?”
Ceridwen didn’t even blink. “I can’t read your aura.”
Casimir sobered, his wide smile and booming humor gone as though it had never existed in the first place.
A flare of concern shot through Maeve. “Is that a bad thing?”
“Not bad.” The High Princess studied her. “Just unusual. It’s like there’s a haze over your aura. A filter that blocks the trueness of it from my view.”
“Oh. Well, that’s disappointing.” The cuffs. They had to be the reason Ceridwen couldn’t read her aura. There was no other explanation.
