Page 21 of Crown of Roses
Rowan circled his horse around them and came up on their right. “I see sleeping beauty is finally awake.”
Maeve rolled her eyes to the piercing blue sky and Casimir’s grip on the reins stiffened. “We’re here,” he announced, to no one in particular.
A few paces ahead, the trees fell back like they were parting in ceremony, giving way to a wide expanse of sparkling sea and crystalline sand. Gentle waves of glittering emerald came up to greet the shoreline. Tiny shells, white sand, and shards of sea glass lined the curved beach. The breeze was cool, but the sun was warm, its rays already heating Maeve’s skin. She peered out at the horizon, where the air seemed to waver and breathe as though it was alive. As though it was sustained by magic. The expanse of stunning water stretching before them was Eirelan Pass.
Casimir helped her slide off the horse and once she was on the ground, she made her way to the beach. Swirling shells and rainbow-hued sea glass crunched lightly beneath her boots. She knelt down and scooped up a handful. The sand sifted between her fingers like sugar. Halfway buried underneath the sand, she spied a piece of sea glass the color of wild summer roses. Its edges were smooth and rounded, having been tumbled by the waves, and when she picked it up and held it to the sun, it glittered pink, then red, then gold.
Maeve slipped the piece of sea glass into her pocket.
“There’s nothing I love quite as much as the feel of the sun on my skin.” Rowan’s rich voice caused Maeve’s spine to tingle, despite the warmth.
“And why is that?” She bent down to scoop up a shell, swiftly checking to make sure her dagger was still secured in her sheath. Not that she was worried, but he was still a fae. The shell in her hand was a swirly mix of brown and cream, and it spiraled to a point.
“No particular reason.”
Her head whipped in his direction. The way he said it was wrong. It should have been a casual turn of phrase, but instead it seemed to harbor a deeper, darker meaning. She found it curious when he wouldn’t meet her eyes. His gaze was trained on where the blue of the sky met the turquoise of the sea.
She stole a glance over her shoulder. Casimir was seated on a piece of driftwood, sharpening his sword. His black hood was shoved back. He glowered in her direction, though she imagined it was aimed at Rowan, not her. Saoirse was sprawled in the sand like a sun goddess. She twirled a flower lazily between her fingers and hummed something reminiscent of a sea shanty.
“What happened?” Maeve asked Rowan, knowing he would at least give her some variant of the truth. “After I was attacked?”
She couldn’t be certain, but she swore his body tensed. “You were rescued. And that’s about it.”
He plucked the shell from her hand and tossed it to where wisps of sea grass crawled toward the swaying trees. She opened her mouth to protest until she saw what slithered out of it; a long gray insect with hundreds of legs and speckled with tiny red dots. It was a centipede of sorts, and highly poisonous. She stumbled backward but Rowan’s hand shot out, bracing the small of her back. Maeve tried to push away from him. “I’m not fragile. I’m—”
“You’re weak.” His eyes flashed and he tucked his hands into his pockets. “Your weakness will be the end of you.”
She didn’t need a protector or a guardian. Not if she was ever going to be queen. Not if she intended on becoming her mother’s match. She marched right back up to Rowan, and as much as she would’ve loved to look him dead in the eye, she stood a whole foot shorter than him. She rose up on her toes and the corner of his lip twitched.
“Is that a threat?” she hissed.
“That’s a promise,” he purred.
Maeve reared back, ready to punch him in his pretty little face, when a pair of arms hoisted her up and away from him.
“Easy, tiger.” Saoirse set her back down, away from striking range, but stood by, just in case.
“Your weakness is not determined by whether you can throw a punch or fight with a weapon. And it isn’t determined by fear. It’s here.” Rowan pointed to his heart. “Maybe once you figure that out, then you won’t be such a liability to the rest of us.”
Maeve’s fists clenched until her nails bit into the skin of her palms. “You bastard.”
He bowed regally. “At your service, my lady.”
Maeve launched herself at him. Her fingers curved like claws but caught only air, because Saoirse snatched her by the waist and hauled her back.
“Leave him, Maeve. We only need him until we find this damn soul of a goddess.” Saoirse’s grip around her waist remained firm, but she sent a cool death stare to Rowan. He chuckled. “After that, I promise I’ll let you kill him.”
“Fine.” Maeve heaved a breath. She didn’t have weakness in her heart, at least not like he said. She was a warrior. She read and studied, she armed herself with both knowledge and sword. She didn’t fear death. Instead, she merely prepared for its inevitable arrival. The only way she could possibly be a liability was because of her curse. Possessing fae blood could very well be a problem once she crossed in Faeven, mostly because she had no idea if the cuffs her mother bound to her would hold true. If the spell was strong enough to keep the monster inside her away.
A thought formed in the back of her mind. A tiny glimmer of light. The makings of a spark. She was going to Faeven. Surely there were fae within the realm more powerful than her mother. If she could find one, perhaps she could find a way to rid herself of the curse. She might have to make a bargain, though it was bound to be dangerous, but nothing could be worse than being cursed with the blood of faeries.
Unfortunately, she might have to ask a particular fae for help.
Rowan sat upon a cluster of rocks, his arms stretched out behind him, his legs crossed, his face tilted up to the sun. He looked like a god, with the way his biceps were perfectly sculpted and with thighs seemingly made of steel. Sweat dampened his shirt so it clung to him, to his abdomen, and the ripple of muscles there caused a flush of arousal to stain her cheeks.
It made her stomach turn.
Maeve turned away from him and faced Saoirse. “I should go thank Casimir. I forgot to do it earlier.”
