Page 158 of Throne of Dreams
“Fucking bitch,” Maeve muttered, taking inventory of their surroundings.
Dark fae were everywhere. It seemed like whenever one died, another took its place. She thought they were doing well, but the fae continued to come at them, driving them backward, closer to the edge of the cliffs. They needed tofade; it would be their only means of escape, but they couldn’t get a clear chance if they weren’t ever able to catch a breath from the constant onslaught of fae attacking them.
Lir ran up, sweat pouring down him and soaking his clothing. Blood drenched his shoulder and the fabric of his shirt stuck to his skin. “There’s too many, my lord.”
“I don’t know how much more we can take.” Brynn hobbled closer, swiping at a dark fae in her path. Her leg was injured and she winced, sending a desperate glance to the mountains dividing Summer from Autumn.
“Tier, we have to do something.” Maeve yanked Brynn behind her, slashing through the throats of two dark fae at once. They evaporated, but more poured out from the forest line. “We can’t keep fighting them off like this, we’ll exhaust ourselves. The more we kill, the more she sends.”
“I know,” he grunted, dodging the attack of one with spiders crawling out of its eyes. His blade swept up and he struck down two more.
One with horns and bulging veins swiped at Maeve, knocking her to the ground. Air wheezed from her lungs, and she gasped, rolling out of its reach as Tiernan drove his sword through the base of the fae’s neck. It crumpled, gurgling, spurting black blood everywhere. Maeve recoiled from the revolting creature. Tiernan reached down, grabbed her hand, and hauled her back to her feet.
“Maeve.” His voice was cold. Deadly. “Make your bubble.”
“What?” She searched his face, trying to understand his intent.
“Just do it,astora.Do not ask questions.” His magic exploded above them, violent and devastating. “Make the damn bubble. Surround everyone but me.”
“Now is not the time for heroics, High King,” Dorian called out as dark fae fell violently at his feet, thrashing and gurgling, their bodies rotting from the inside out.
“My father is right.” She plunged her Aurastone into another fae, tearing her blade up its sternum until it turned to dust. “I will do no such thing. We fight together.”
Tiernan grabbed her waist, drawing her into him. She breathed in the scent of him, but it was tainted by the metallic stench of blood. His eyes were a storm, brewing and fierce.
“There is no other way.”
She grabbed a fistful of his shirt, the ring he gave her flashing like lightning. “I would rather die alongside you than live a lifetime without you.”
The corner of his mouth quirked. “Stubborn.”
“Arrogant,” she tossed back.
He laughed and his gaze darkened. She watched as he summoned his magic, demanding it. The powerful storm shook the ground, and the wind lashed out at all of them. The dense scent of orange blossom and cedarwood permeated the air as his power sank into the mind of every dark fae, of every nightmarish creature. He called to the chaos, to the destruction he kept locked away in the darkest part of his soul. Maeve stood there, awestruck, as he took control, as he poisoned the minds of the dark fae, as he turned them against each other. His magic spiraled, raw and relentless, amplifying the turmoil. The dark fae clashed, attacking one another, decimating their own ranks.
“No!” Parisa shrieked, running out from the protection of the forest. Her face was pale and gaunt, leached of all color. A crown of spindles and onyx sat atop her head and her short brown hair, once angled and sharp, was thin and graying. She wore a gown of all black; the lace cut across her emaciated shoulders like a spider’s web and hung loose around her withering body. But dangling from her neck, flickering like green fire, was a stone—one that was painfully familiar.
Avirdis lepatite.
The same one Carman used to wear, the one that granted the power of dark sorcery.
Shit.
“It’s too much!” Ceridwen’s voice pitched with hysteria, and she grabbed Maeve’s arm. Her panicked gaze focused on her twin. On Tiernan. “He’ll die if he continues this madness!”
Maeve whirled around to face him, and shock reverberated through her. He was pale. So pale. Death-like. His brow was slick with sweat and tremors wrecked his body.
“Enough!” Maeve cried, throwing her arms around his neck and hauling him to her. He convulsed in her arms, and apprehension seized her. Her heart skittered at the sight of him. He looked so vulnerable, so weak. “Tiernan, stop! Stop it, right now!”
He swayed, and his eyes turned so dark they were nearly black. Her fingers dug into his biceps, holding him upright.
“Enough,” she murmured again, before her lips crashed against his.
There was no response from him at first, like kissing stone. Cold and rough. She lightly ran her tongue along the seam of his lips and then he opened for her, their mouths meshing like every touch, every taste would be their last.
His magic ebbed, and slowly Maeve drew back to look up into his eyes.
The storm had calmed. The destruction eased.
