“What’s that?”
“We’ve not been able to find anything else like it.” Dismay leadened her voice. “Anywhere.”
“That’s because it’s not from here.” Aran held out his hand. “Might I see it?”
Tiernan handed it over, and the High Prince examined it, running his finger along the rose quartz and tracing the whorl.
“This was not designed in Faeven. If you look just here,” he held it out for all of them to see, “the letters B and A are engraved in gold on the bottom. This particular bauble comes from a little shop called Belladonna’s Atelier.”
“Belladonna’s?” Maeve edged closer, curious. She peered down at the instrument, and he could almost hear her thoughts working. Somehow, she was not as surprised by this news as Tiernan would’ve expected. “This is the same shop where you bought the marble you showed me. You’ve seen it on your travels, haven’t you?”
Aran nodded, returning the instrument to Brynn. “I have. Belladonna has a certain…talent for the arts. She often works with crystals and glass, as well as many other media.”
Brynn slipped it back into her pocket. “Can we get more of them?”
“Well,” Aran drew the word out and ran his thumb over the scar that trailed from his jaw to his chin. “That depends.”
“On?” Brynn prompted, glowering.
“On how many you need,” he answered with a smirk. “And how soon you need them.”
“As many as this Belladonna you speak of is willing to spare. Garvan attacked Maeve with a small blade, my lord. It was insignificant in size, but it was laced with dark magic.” She cut him down with a glare, her gaze narrowing. “He paralyzed her mid-air.”
Aran’s brows lifted in shock. “He what? How is that possible?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. And the only thing that saved her from losing control of her body completely was that crystal healing tool, whatever it is.” She crossed her arms, seemingly pleased by his bewilderment. “So, let me ask you again, High Prince. Can we get more of them?”
“It can be done.” Aran glanced over at Tiernan, already knowing what he would ask. “I can retrieve more of these if they’re required but doing so will take time. I’ll have to travel across the Gaelsong Sea and back again. There’s no telling how long it will take, or if she’ll even be willing to construct more of them.”
“I’ll send you with enough gold she won’t be able to refuse you.” He looked to the eastern sky, to where thin shreds of clouds stretched over brilliant blue, to the realms beyond. “How soon can you leave?”
From beside him, Maeve started. She’d only just got her brother back, and Tiernan knew she didn’t want him to leave again. But if this crystal healing tool was the only way to cure the venom and if Aran was the only one who could retrieve them, he would be forced to ask the favor.
Aran smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. Instead, his gaze fell to his sister. “I can leave at once, if the urgency of the matter demands it.”
Tiernan stilled. “I’m afraid it does.”
Maeve turned away from him then, letting her hair fall into her face, blocking his view. She wrapped her arms around herself and refused to meet his eye. He hated to disappoint her, but surely she knew these healing instruments were important. They would need more of them, especially if the dark magic Garvan used against her was plentiful. If it could be imbued onto a tiny blade, then it could be used on anything. Swords. Daggers. Arrows. They would need to be prepared. He would talk to her about it later tonight, when they were alone. Explain that sending Aran off on this errand was necessary to ensure Faeven survived.
“I’m sorry,”Tiernan spoke softly into her mind.“He’ll return soon. I promise.”
Maeve’s sea-swept eyes found his and the smile she offered him nearly broke his heart.“I know.”
He grabbed her hand, intertwining her fingers with his own.
Aran swept into a low bow. “Then I shall sail immediately.”
“If there’s nothing else,” Tiernan gestured toward the corridor that would lead to the balcony where they usually dined, “I suggest we all—”
He was interrupted by shouts and thundering footsteps racing down the stone walkway.
One of Merrick’s scouts rounded the corner at a full sprint. Grime and filth covered his cobalt and gold leathers. His face was stained with dirt, and sweat poured from his temples, streaking through the muck down his cheeks. Though his chest heaved in ragged breaths, he stood at attention.
Merrick stormed forward but Tiernan was faster.
“Report,” he demanded.
The fae scout bowed and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Movement to the northwest, Your Grace. Something’s happened. All was quiet for the past four days but now, Parisa…she’s slaughtering everyone in her wake and trekking toward the borders of the Winter Court.”