Page 27 of Throne of Dreams
Maeve swallowed down the knot of apprehension building up in the back of her throat. “I think it could, yes.”
“Alright, let’s give it a try.” He bowed his head before her. “Whenever you’re ready, High Princess.”
“Right.” Maeve steadied her nerves and lightly scrubbed her palms against the leather of her leggings. She inhaled and closed her eyes. Magic surrounded her, filled her. She called to the power deep inside her, to the breath of magic swirling and billowing, to the life source coursing through her. Her blood hummed and power rose up, pebbling her flesh with goosebumps. She let her hands splay over his back, where the beautiful wings he’d once possessed had been torn from him.
Ethereal strands of golden light spilled from the tips of her fingers, covering Aran’s back like a fine layer of chiffon. It sifted and floated over him, then gathered at the scars beneath his shirt. A powerful force swelled, and Maeve nearly stumbled. It swept over and between them, brilliant and blinding in an explosion of light. Warmth spread over his back, rising to meet her. Beneath her touch, Aran’s body tensed like he was preparing for something. She glanced down to see his eyes were squeezed shut and a tiny bead of sweat had formed along his forehead. Anxiety crawled along her spine, but she ignored it and forced herself to focus on returning the glory of Aran’s wings.
Sensations rippled along her fingertips as she imagined the beauty of his wings. They would capture the very essence of him. Strong. Powerful. Magnificent. Intimidating. There was another surge, a rush of magical energy as the air crackled. Aran sucked in a breath as a set of glorious wings burst from his back. They were decadent, deep crimson and gold, draping around him like the mist surrounding a blood moon. He slammed his fist onto the wooden deck, causing theAmshirto rock violently. Maeve toppled backward. She tossed both of her arms out to find purchase, but Aran was quicker.
He caught her around the waist with his hands and shot skyward.
A sound of pure elation erupted from him..
Maeve squealed, throwing her arms around his neck.
“You did it!” He coasted through the wispy clouds, spinning her around and around. “Sun and sky, you actually did it.”
There was the faintest sheen to his eyes as he held her close, hugging her tightly. “I owe you a debt, dear sister.”
“No.” Maeve reared back and looked up at his face. “No debt. No vows. No Strands. Just you, Aran. You are enough for me.”
His smile was devastating. He kissed her lightly on top of the head. “Ready to fly?”
She ground her teeth and bit out, “Yes.” Though to her ears, it sounded like more of a question.
He swung her down swiftly, then hoisted her skyward and let go. She soared above him, shrieking in delight, as warmth tingled along her spine and her wings stretched out behind her. Together they dove through the clouds and then coasted down low toward the sea, skimming their fingers through the cool, cresting waves.
“Soar like this,” he directed, and she followed his lead, rising and flying higher. Warm air shifted through her feathers and the breeze carried them over the Lismore Marin. “Now swoop downwind.”
He dove and she went after him. Watching. Learning. She matched his energy, tested her own abilities. Aran slowed, flying alongside her, stretching out his arms. “Give me your hands.”
Maeve hesitated for only a moment before letting him clasp their hands together.
“We’re going to spin.”
“Wait, what?” Maeve blinked, suddenly unsure.
“Spread your wings wide,” he instructed, demonstrating. “It’s a barrel roll, an aerial maneuver used to avoid attack.”
Aran was teaching her how to protect herself in the sky. How to defend herself.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
She nodded sharply, and he launched them into a spiral. She yelped, startled as they spun. He held her gaze the entire time.
“I’m going to let go. When I do, I want you to shoot skyward then dive left. Pull your wings in close right before you fly upward. Stretch them wide when you turn, then immediately tuck them on your descent, okay?”
“Okay.” She could do this. She could definitely do this.
“On three.”
She pressed her lips into a firm line, concentrating.
“One…two…” Aran released her hands, and she was on her own. “Three!”
Maeve bolted toward the clouds, drawing her wings in tight. She funneled up through the sky, far above the sea.
“Left now!” Aran shouted, and she obeyed, unfurling her wings wide as she cut left, gathering them in as she plunged downward.
