Page 24 of Throne of Dreams
Maeve paused, the tart halfway to her mouth. “What about it?”
Aran set one bowl of stew in front of her, then took the other for himself. “I’m Dorai, Maeve. One of the exiled. We see things. We hear things. Word travels fast on the seas.”
She didn’t doubt it. But the fact he confirmed as much gave her cause for concern. Word of her existence would spread. There would be no way to stop Garvan and Shay from finding out about her. Once they did, Parisa wouldn’t be the only one she had to worry about. Maeve popped the rest of the tart into her mouth, swallowing hard.
“It’s not so much a plague as a portal.”
Aran nodded and a whisper of a shadow fell across his handsome features. “I’ve heard the same. Some sort of dark magic…”
She scooped up a spoonful of the stew and a medley of flavors—beef, onion, garlic, and spices danced across her tongue. “Yes. And I don’t think it’s caused by Parisa.”
Aran’s spine straightened. “You’re certain?”
“As certain as I can be, yes.” She took another spoonful, watching him carefully,
Overhead, the faerie light orbs continued to sway and move with the gentle waves rocking theAmshir. Aran stared at the bowl of stew before him, tilted his head, and then, “Didn’t dark fae pour out of the Scathing and attack Kells?”
“Yes, but those dark fae were not the same as the ones in Faeven.”
Unbidden memories slammed into her. Monsters of shadow and darkness whose jaws unlocked to devour their victims whole, leaving nothing but bone in their wake. The terrifying creatures who attacked her in her room, with their spindly arms and the spiders that crawled out of their mouths. The ones whose talon-like nails filled her bloodstream with poison. Maeve shuddered against the brutal memory.
Concern glinted in the depths of Aran’s emerald gaze, and the flecks of gold there sparked with apprehension. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I fought the dark fae who attacked the Summer Court, and the ones who ruined Kells…they were not the same.”
Aran studied her and when he spoke, his words were clear and precise. “Let me make sure I’m following you.” He sat back, adjusting the sleeves of his shirt. It was then Maeve saw he wore the same compass as before, the one wrapped in knots of silk and beads, except this time a piece of rosy pink sea glass was attached to it as well. The sea glass she had given him. “You think the dark fae who attacked Kells are different from those that Parisa controls?”
Maeve nodded. “I do.”
“How so?”
“Because the fae I killed in Kells were easy. All it took was one swipe of my Aurastone and they turned to ash.” She remembered how easy it had been to kill Madam Dansha, the fortune teller. “But when Niahvess came under attack, I had to aim for their throats. I had to strike true. Any other hit was just a wound. An injury. Killing them took more effort.”
Aran shifted in his seat, taking in all she said. “You know what could help you?”
“The will o’ wisp?”
“Gods, no.” He reared back, affronted by the mere mention of the solitary fae. “Books. You have an affinity for reading, do you not? Surely, answers are kept within the pages of those not yet read.”
It was a compliment she would readily accept. There were tons of books inside Tiernan’s library she hadn’t even touched yet, not to mention the one Rowan had given her about the Aurastone and Astralstone. As soon as the memory of him entered her mind, a horrible twinge wrenched deep inside her. Another fragment of her tortured past meant to wound her. She rubbed her hand along her sternum, shoving the pain away.
She ate a few more bites of her stew and then, once again, curiosity got the better of her. “Are the other Dorai like you?” Maeve snatched one more spiced pumpkin tart. “Do they sail on ships?”
“A good number of them have their own vessels, yes. Some have found homes within other realms and will not live out the rest of their days at sea.” His hand absently trailed to the compass around his neck. “As to whether or not they are like me, I suppose that depends on the context of your question.”
It wasn’t a trap. Not exactly. But she knew what Aran was trying to say, or more so, what he wanted her to say. He wouldn’t influence her decision, but how she viewed him was entirely up to her. “Are they good? Loyal? Trustworthy?”
His expression was schooled into one of total neutrality. “And is that what you think? That I’m good, loyal, and trustworthy?”
Maeve reached across the small table and grabbed his free hand. The gesture wasn’t lost on Aran and his eyes registered surprise before he could hide it. “Yes. I think all those things. I didn’t have a family growing up, I didn’t have anyone who loved me. But now I have you, and I think, no matter what, you would lay down your life for me…just as I would for you.”
He squeezed her hand and pressed a featherlight kiss across her knuckles. “Then you’d be right.” The smile he flashed fell away. “But no, not all Dorai are like me. Some are like me, and others are more forgiving. There are also those who have committed unspeakable crimes and their souls will forever be tainted. They’re the thieves among us, the vile ones. They have their own moral code, and I will say they don’t set their standards very high.”
“What, like pirates?”
“Of a sort.”
With her interest piqued, Maeve leaned forward. “Do you speak to them often?”
