Shivers raced down her spine as Tiernan slowly slid into her mind and whispered,“Indeed they shall.”
ChapterThirteen
The waves of the Lismore Marin were calm when Maeve found herself barefoot on the pink sand beach again, facing off with Tiernan. Except this time, Lir, Merrick, and Brynn had joined them.
Just in case, Tiernan had told her.
Right. Just in case she lost control again. Just in case she couldn’t let go on her own and they needed to bring her back.
Serenity swept across her cheek. It was a soft caress, like the gentle touch of a palm, and Maeve recognized Ceridwen’s magic as she boosted her confidence with affection and support. The sensation swelled around her. Lifted her. Grounded her.
Tiernan tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, then lifted her chin with one finger. “I will not go easy on you.”
Maeve nodded. “I know.”
Her heart raced, so loud that she swore he could hear the thudding of it against her chest. Another swell of tranquility stole away her anxiety and evened her breathing. She appreciated Ceridwen’s subtle touches.
“Remember what you are.” Then he leaned in closer, so his words were for her alone. “Rememberwhoyou are—Archfae, the High Princess of Autumn, the soul of the goddess Danua.”
All these titles. All these expectations. It was as though everyone knew more about her than she did about herself. She’d gone from a blood-cursed human princess to an Archfae overnight, and though Tiernan had swiftly stepped up to help guide her, she’d never felt more lost. How could she wield such magic, such greatness, when the demons of her past continued to torment her?
She shook her head, crushing the thought. Now was not the time to wallow in self-pity. Maeve braced herself in the soft sand and watched Tiernan walk away. After a few yards, he turned around to face her. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled to reveal his tanned forearms and his swirling gold tattoos. Storm clouds gathered in his eyes. The wind swept his midnight hair away from his face as he rolled his shoulders back and cracked his neck. She stole a glance at Lir, Merrick, and Brynn, who had already taken up stances against one another, pretending to fight. They were barely trying. They were waiting for her. For her magic.
Her knee bounced with a restless energy. She stretched her fingers out, let the slow Summer breeze slip through them.
Tiernan dipped his chin, and she fired first.
Bolts of fire clashed against the violet lighting he sent her way. The power inside her surged, an explosion of flame and crackling energy. Smoke swirled around her like the spindly fingers of a skeleton. The long, gray tendrils reached for Tiernan. Thunder exploded around them, so earth-shattering, the ground beneath her feet trembled in fear. Maeve wasted no time. She called to the magic of her soul.
She wouldn’t do this alone. She would never be alone again. With one hand, she roped the glittering rays of the sun, dragging them through Tiernan’s storm, so they formed a sword of sunlight in her hand. It was brilliant and blinding. The hilt glowed in glorious golden ribbons. The blade was crafted of fire, bronze and crimson, the heat emanating from it strong enough to melt metal and pierce the night. She cut through the bolts of lightning he aimed at her like she was slicing through silk.
“More,”he called through her mind.
More? She would give him more.
Her power soared, delighted in the freedom she offered. It was a never-ending well and each time she drew from it, it continued to give without fail. Her tattoos glowed, shimmering and vibrant. The air encircling her hummed with exhilaration, snapping and sparking with each flick of her wrist. The sand shifted beneath her feet. It swirled up around her in a vortex, then compacted into towering, dense mounds. At once, the sand molded to her design, and a dozen fae warriors took shape before her. They lined up, six on each side, crafted from the shores of Summer’s coast. She armed all of them with bows of scorching fire and arrows of piercing glass.
Tiernan was relentless, sending violet bolts her direction, and her entire body trembled and shook. Without warning Lir, Merrick, and Brynn were on her, attacking from all angles. But Maeve didn’t even have to move, she didn’t have to fight back or counterattack. With a flick of her wrist, she merely stood by and watched as her three friends took on her army of sand warriors. They defended her without question. They protected her at all costs. She cast her glimmering bubble of protection and her hair lifted from her shoulders, blown back by the fierce gust of wind Tiernan threw her way.
It was nothing more than a faint breeze to her.
She was the very breath of life.
It was then Maeve decided to call upon the guardian, upon the fae warrior who protected the coast of Niahvess. She beckoned to him, asked him if he thought her worthy enough to serve. She closed her eyes while her magic sought him out, while it entreated him to stand with her. For a second, there was nothing.
The deafening sound of granite and marble grinding against solid earth echoed in her ears. The ground quaked and even Maeve stumbled a step. She spun around and watched, fascinated, as the fae guardian rose from his place atop the hill by the verandah. The helmet upon his head, originally carved from shimmering sandstone, was now the shade of fire rubies. He stood, massive, able to crush palm trees the way one might accidentally step upon a small twig. Sword raised, he bowed to her, ready to destroy all on her command.
“Maeve!”
She whipped back around and saw Tiernan running toward her at a full sprint, his shadows of destruction following in his wake.
She took them.
Called them to her side. The shadows swarmed her, ensconced her in a swath of protection.
He stumbled to a stop before her, eyes wide. He held out his hand. “Let go.”
The magic flowing inside her reached a crescendo. Her blood sang, reaching for something she didn’t understand. Maeve looked to Lir, Merrick, and Brynn—to her friends, to her family—as they fought the warriors she’d created from nothing more than grains of sand.