Page 107 of Crown of Roses
“But I found him first.” Casimir kicked a small, stone pebble and it skittered down the hall outside the dungeon. “I didn’t realize Rowan was sent to Kells by Parisa. I didn’t know he’d come looking for you. His cuffs were a means to an end. For information and nothing more.”
“And did he give any?” Maeve snapped.
“No. He took his torture without a word and gave Carman nothing.” Casimir refused to look at her. He kept his gaze focused on the stone floor at their feet. “When we arrived in Faeven, I wasn’t sure we could trust him. Obviously, we can’t—”
“You’re one to talk.”
He ignored the slight and continued speaking. “I didn’t put it together right away. Not at first. But small pieces of the puzzle slowly clicked into place.” He rubbed his hand over his face, like he was trying to wipe away the knowledge of it. Of her. “But when the dark fae attacked Summer that first night, when you were poisoned, I thought maybe I knew why. And then the second time…when I found you in the summer woods, I knew for certain.”
“And how did you know?”
“Rowan told me.”
Maeve reared back. His admission was a slap across her face. Goddess above. Knots of pain twisted violently in her stomach and she planted her hands on her knees. She sucked in gulps of the damp, stagnant air to keep from throwing up. Rowan. Fucking Rowan. Her mind whirred, but she couldn’t focus on a single thought. She couldn’t breathe. “Are you fucking serious? He knew? All this time he knew it was me?”
Casimir took to pacing. His boots clicked almost soundlessly against the roughened floor. “He knew. He knew the reason he was sent to Kells was to find the anam ó Danua; Parisa recognized the burst of power as soon as you took your first breath, but it was faint. When you created your crown of roses, she sent him to find you and bring you back to her.”
“Then why didn’t he just turn me over to her as soon as we got to Faeven?” Maeve demanded. She charged across the cell, kicking up hay, and grabbed the bars. Hands clenched around the cold metal, she rattled them, wishing for a brief second it was Casimir’s neck instead. The reverberations left her teeth aching. “Why didn’t he just throw me at her feet? Why drag me along, why torment me, why make me suffer?”
Casimir stilled. “Only he knows the answer to that.”
Maeve screamed. She screamed until her throat ached and her chest burned. Power flowed inside of her, bursting, nearly breaking her. “I hate this place! I hate all of the stupid riddles, and all the dangerous games. I hate that not a single soul in this goddess forsaken land can even speak one fucking truth!”
Silence descended upon them. It was heavy, weighted with tension and heartache. She slumped down to the ground, let her head fall back against the cell door, let the bars hold up the weight of her body.
“So it’s me.” Her voice sounded like a half-dead frog. “I’m the anam ó Danua.”
“You are.”
She was an Archfae, daughter to Dorian and Fianna. A High Princess of the Autumn Court. Which meant Aran, Garvan, and Shay were her brothers. Siblings. She had a family. A slightly dysfunctional one, but that was beside the point. A new kind of betrayal sliced through her. “Casimir.”
He flinched when she used his full name.
“Why have you brought me here?”
“Don’t ask me that question.” His lips grew thin, and he paled. “You already know the answer.”
“You asshole.” She jumped up from the slimy ground and slammed her weight into the bars with as much driving force as she could muster. The clattering pained her ears, but they didn’t budge. “How could you side with her? You know what she is and what she does. You’ve seen her kill and destroy, wreck and ruin, yet still you choose her?”
“Parisa doesn’t want you dead.” He shifted his weight back, away from her, and flipped up his hood. “If you simply do as she asks, she’ll keep you alive.”
“Well, then.” Maeve crossed her arms and let the resentment flow from her. “That explains why you’re still here.”
Casimir’s gaze darkened, but he didn’t correct her. “You’ll be her greatest weapon, Maeve.”
She spat at his feet when he turned away. “I’d rather die.”
“I’m sure you would,” he muttered, and started walking away.
“Fuck you, Casimir!” It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. But all she could think of, all she could focus on, was her intensely passionate fury for the man who’d once been her friend. “I hate you.”
He stopped, frozen in place, then turned just enough for her to hear his whisper. “I thought you might.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Maeve paced the tiny cube of the cell for what felt like hours. Maybe more. With every step, she grew more aware of the magic vibrating within her. It was the same awareness that helped her understand the cell was charmed, that there was some kind of magical ward surrounding it which kept her power at bay. She could feel the magic flowing through her, but she couldn’t touch it. She couldn’t access it. Parisa was no better than Carman. She was the same. Vile. Cruel. And foolish. Maeve stalked from one side to the other, listening for voices, forming a plan. She couldn’t sit, she couldn’t remain still. Images from pages of books she’d read flashed in her mind as she tried to recreate the truth of her past. Unbidden knowledge overcrowded her mind, bits of memories that were stolen from her, innate abilities gifted to her from her birth parents, the High King and High Queen of Autumn.
No wonder she’d experienced those wild images when she forged a Strand with Aran. No wonder Shay demanded her identity; he must have been able to sense something between them. A bond of some kind. Perhaps that was why the Autumn forest protected her, and kept her hidden from trooping fae when she fled from Garvan and Shay. Autumn recognized her. It knew her blood, it knew her magic. It was home, and like always called to like.
