Page 88 of Throne of Dreams
Their swords crashed into each other in a deafening crack. He blocked her every strike, dodged her every assault. All of her rage came down upon him and he matched it, absorbing all of her anger, giving her the fight she craved. They maneuvered as one, swords arcing and clashing, but not once did he challenge her in return. He simply took it.
Energy spiked between them, crackling like the roar of a bonfire. She struck again and he parried, avoiding the cut of her blade. Her face twisted in anguish and her aggression faded as her movements grew careless. Her thoughts were a violent storm, a mental siege upon his mind. When she raised her sword high, he rushed her and sent her careening backward in those damned heels.
She stumbled into the stone corridor, chest heaving. Her crown sat lopsided upon her head and hair fell around her in a mess of tangles and curls.
Gods save him, all he wanted to do was kiss her.
But the look of raw anguish on her face…it was enough to rip his heart from his chest.
She lowered her weapon and the sword vanished. He took a hesitant step toward her, but she threw up one hand, halting him.
“Let’s make one thing perfectly clear, Tiernan Velless.” Her eyes were too bright, glossy with what he knew to be tears. “I might be yours, but you arenotmy king. I don’t answer to you.” She sucked in a ragged breath. “I don’t answer to anyone.”
The heady scent of orange blossom and cedarwood permeated the air around them. Magic amplified the space between them. But there was no smoke or fire. It was something else.
She wasfading.
“Maeve.” Her name fell from his lips, but the sound was all wrong.
It was fear.
His fear.
There was one fleeting look of terror upon her face, and the tears she kept at bay slid down her cheeks. He lunged for her, but then she was gone. There was nothing but the scent of cinnamon woods, Autumn bonfires, and toasted vanilla left in her wake.
ChapterTwenty-Five
The air pulled from Maeve’s lungs and silenced her screams on a gasp. Her magic swirled and compressed, squeezing around her tightly before finally letting go.
She’dfaded.Literally faded. And she’d gone to the first place that appeared within her mind’s eye.
The Black Lake.
Maeve had returned to the Autumn Court. It was just as breathtaking as she remembered. The surface of the lake was smooth, untouched by even a ripple, and it glimmered like obsidian in the silver wash of the moon. The forest surrounding her was silent and still, a beating heart, a living creature, as here the magic seemed to breathe and thrive on its own. Jewel-toned leaves decorated the long, ancient branches of the trees, creating a canopy of ruby, gold, and amethyst. A crisp breeze wrapped itself around her, carrying with it the scent of damp earth, sweetened spice, and woodsy smoke. Leaves rustled. Branches swayed. And it was as though the entire forest released a collective sigh, welcoming her home.
Here, Maeve felt no fear.
Garvan was back in the Summer Court, and no one had any idea she was gone. Except for Tiernan, who would probably be furious.
Yes, she may have gone to the extreme in her quest to make him suffer, but damn it…she’d been pissed. And hurt. She placed her hand over her heart and the Strand marking her warmed beneath her touch. It wasn’t the worst thing, being bound to him. The first pang of remorse left her heart aching. She clutched the necklace he’d given to her and hoped he could sense that she was safe. That returning to Autumn, to the quiet edge of the Black Lake was giving her the serenity her soul craved.
Hopefully, he wouldn’t worrytoomuch.
She dropped onto the soft, cushioned shore and pulled her knees to her chest. Her gown did very little to keep the chill from her bones, but she didn’t mind. Autumn was her home. It recognized her as its own. It remembered her.
From somewhere off to her left, a twig snapped. Maeve’s hand instantly went to the Aurastone strapped to her thigh. She waited. One breath. Then two. Her gaze scanned the tree line, searching for a threat. A possible attack. Her blood hummed, but not in warning. This was different. For a moment, there was nothing. Then she spied it. Slinking toward her from beneath a bush bursting with berries was a beautiful red fox with eyes that shone like the darkest emeralds.
It approached her slowly. Maeve held out her upturned hand, allowing the woodland creature to sniff her.
“Hello, there.”
The fox’s ears perked up and its clever gaze locked onto her.
Her heart surged. Images bombarded her; scenes of a magical ball on an Autumn night, a fae couple dancing, gazing up at each other in love, the scattering of leaves and a burst of color.
Unable to move, Maeve stared at the fox.
“Dorian?” she whispered into the cool night.
