Page 146 of Throne of Dreams
Ceridwen twisted the bangles hanging from her wrist. Around and around. Her eyes, the same swirl of deep blue and purple like his own, flicked between each of them…disbelieving.
“She’s going to get out of there.” Tiernan rarely heard his twin’s thoughts, as she was so often calm-natured and content. But now they roiled, bouncing around through every worst-case scenario imaginable. His skin crawled, knowing his sister was capable of even thinking such things. “I promise she’ll escape. And when she does, we’ll be waiting for her.”
She spun on him, and her face was a mask, calm before the storm. “And what if Garvan throws her into the dungeon? He locked me in a bedroom worthy of my station, but it was charmed. My magic was dampened, just out of my reach. I couldn’t access anything, Tiernan. His wards are strong, they always have been, and there’s no telling where in that damned palace he’ll put Maeve.”
“She’ll get out,” Tiernan reiterated, grinding the words out. “She is not weak. She’s the fucking Dawnbringer, Cer.”
“But you sent her into the lion’s den, Tiernan!” Ceridwen’s cheeks flushed with vexation and her slender fingers clenched into fists. “She walked right into enemy territory. You sent her in there to fight her way out against dark magic with no means of self-defense, no weapon. No anything!”
Merrick slung an arm around Ceridwen’s shoulders, and this time when he smiled, his dimples winked into play. “Who said she doesn’t have a weapon?”
ChapterForty-Three
GarvanfadedMaeve onto one of the many balconies.
To say Kyol’s palace was spectacular was an understatement. Coiling spires of obsidian speared upward, the peak of each one crowned with a magnificent bronze leaf. Pointed archways surrounded by carvings of trees and all the phases of the moon revealed a maze of vaulted corridors. Decadent stained-glass windows were illuminated from within by faerie light, reflecting a world washed in jewel-toned hues. Buttresses rose from each balcony, slanting to support the level above her, like the wings of a dragon.
It was positively breathtaking, and were it not for the rushing sound of the waterfalls on either side of the palace, Maeve could’ve sworn she heard music playing. A whisper of old, from a time long before.
Standing there, with the Autumn Court at her back and the legacy of her parents before her, she could almost picture it. She could envision the lavish parties, the extravagant celebrations, the moon shining down upon the glittering harvest Court. If she closed her eyes, she could seethem. Dorian and Fianna. Hand in hand. Twirling across a ballroom. Devoted to one another. Full of passion and affection for one another and their children. They weren’t her memories though, merely fragments she longed to put together to recreate the life she never had…the one that had been stolen from her. But she didn’t need false memories to know the High King and High Queen of Autumn were infatuated with one another. Rowan had told her as much, once upon a time.
The balcony Maeve stood upon soared above the crashing falls below. And the water, where she prayed the merrows waited for her, wasveryfar down indeed. Merrick had failed to mention exactly how far she would have to fall once she jumped. She wrapped her arms around herself to keep from shaking and looked up. Rugged mountains surrounded the palace, protruding across the horizon like slashes of slate, their shadows outlined against the night sky.
Garvan watched her, his mouth curling into one of those oddly unnatural smiles.
Maeve called to her magic, to the fire and smoke, to the soul of the goddess, but the response was faint. Like her power was smothered. She could feel it inside of her, but it was fuzzy, simmering just out of reach. Charmed, exactly like Brynn had thought. Garvan had the entire palace warded against the use of magic. Damn him.
Her nails bit into the leather of her armor. Her stomach twisted into knots, but she blew out a low, calming breath. Despite forcing herself to maintain a false sense of composure, her blood boiled. She wanted to murder Garvan for what he did to Shay, for the way he brutalized him. She would have his head on a stake and set fire to his body before she ever allowed him to harm another.
“You’re awfully quiet, dear sister.” Garvan tilted his head, analyzing her. “Nothing to say?”
She didn’t fear Garvan. She would never fear Autumn. Maeve narrowed her gaze and said, “Not to you.”
He shrugged, dismissive. “Probably for the best. I bet that mouth of yours gets you into plenty of trouble.”
“So I’ve been told.”
He smiled, but even that was scornful. “This way.”
Two guards flanked Maeve, each of them with their swords drawn. The blades glinted in the faint light, but nightshade did not coat them. It was something else…something familiar, she just couldn’t put her finger on what. A magic of some kind. She could attack them now. She was certain she could take them all. But she was outnumbered and only had her Aurastone to defend herself. Not impossible. But not a risk she was certain she wanted to take, at least not yet.
One guard flicked his sword, urging her to walk. Left with no choice, Maeve followed Garvan down a dimly lit hall. Their footfalls echoed off the vast and sloping ceiling, and their shadows crawled along the stone wall. She hadn’t expected to be placed in the guest quarters by any means, but she had hoped to avoid another stay in a dungeon.
“This would’ve been easier, you know,” Garvan said over his shoulder, “if you hadn’t put up such a fight the first time Parisa caught you.”
“She didn’t catch me,” Maeve fired back, taking careful note of how Garvan addressed Parisa by her given name instead of her fabricated title.
He stilled, turning to face her. “What?”
“Parisa didn’t catch me the first time.” She kept her voice level, her breathing even. “Casimir Vawda turned me over to her. Apparently, she can’t do anything on her own.” She gestured vaguely toward him. “I mean, look at you.”
Maeve expected a flash of anger or annoyance, but Garvan’s expression remained unreadable, and when the faerie light flickered over his face, his eyes lacked any real emotion.
“Yes, well. We all do as we must.”
He continued down the hall and she fell into step just behind him, trying to memorize every turn, trying to discern any landmarks so when the time came, she could find her way out. She would attempt to distract while she noted her surroundings.
“So, you’re telling me you had no other choice than to work for someone who wants to see Faeven destroyed?”
