Page 145 of Throne of Dreams
Merrick scoffed. “Not a chance.”
Garvan glowered and jerked his head toward Aeralie. “Make the exchange.”
Aeralie gently nudged Ceridwen, and they moved forward together. Lir took Maeve’s upper arm, guiding her so they stepped over the leaves and petals and into the faerie ring. The air inside the ring was strange. It was dense, powerful, yet not magical, as though time moved slower, and in this space, they were untouchable. Her movements were intentional and precise. Every noise was amplified. The sound of falling leaves. The crunch of the earth beneath her boots. The breeze whispering through the trees, spreading rumors of what they would witness this night.
Ceridwen was graceful, a High Princess in every right. Pride glowed from inside her effervescent beauty, but a silent tear slid down her cheek as they drew closer. Aeralie, on the other hand, was not the same as before. The lightness that once surrounded her was gone. Her features were stern, her lips pressed into a thin, hard line, and Maeve wondered if she perhaps mourned Shay. If maybe there was a division within the Autumn Court, if maybe it was an essential piece of information she could use to her advantage.
“I can hear you plotting, astora.”Tiernan once again slid into her thoughts.“I know you’re curious and want to learn all you can to help, but this is not a spy mission. We need you back here as soon as possible.”
Maeve kept her face impassive.“We?”
“I need you.”His voice was firmer now, more ominous like that of an approaching storm.“And I swear to the gods, if our plan fails, I will come for you. I will destroy everything and everyone in my path until you’re returned to me.”
An unbidden sigh escaped her, and mist swirled at her feet.“You’d destroy the realm for me?”
“And then I’d sit back and watch while you build a new one made of dreams.”His murmur of a vow sank deep into her soul.“I love you.”
Maeve bit back a smile.“I love you, too.”
Ceridwen passed her, and Maeve kept her hands by her side as she walked. The tips of their fingers just barely grazed one another and then there was nothing. Aeralie led her out of the faerie ring and Maeve turned just in time to see Lir repeat the motion with Ceridwen.
It was done.
The trade was made. She was in Autumn now and on her own. But the Autumn Court washers.It was her breath, her life, her soul. Itknewher. Its lifeblood was the beating of her heart. Its magic was alive inside of her.
Maeve would survive this, and she would not become Parisa’s pet. She would escape not only for herself, but for the future of the Four Courts. For the Spring fae who’d been abused, for the merrows who’d been butchered. For Rowan and Shay. For them all. And she would not stop. She would never stop. She already killed Carman. She demolished the Hagla and destroyed Fearghal.
Garvan would be next.
* * *
Tiernan stood there,helpless to do anything but watch as Garvan and his crewfadedaway with Maeve.
Ceridwen rushed forward, throwing her arms around him, but Tiernan found himself unable to look away from the spot where Maeve had been standing only moments before. His twin eased back, and her wide-eyed gaze searched his face.
“You shouldn’t have traded her to him. Not for me. I would’ve managed on my own. Despite popular belief, I’m not entirely incapable of defending myself.”
Something in his chest tightened.
“I know that,” Tiernan ground out, staring at the faerie ring as the rose petals and fallen leaves fluttered away on the breeze. Like nothing had happened. Like his mate hadn’t just vanished before his eyes. “We have a plan.”
“It better be a damn good one.” Ceridwen crossed her arms and a thin line furrowed across her brow. She turned then, facing the border of the Autumn Court. “Giving Maeve up…” She shook her head, her plaited blonde hair shimmering in the fading sunlight. “I don’t have a good feeling about this, Tiernan.”
“I swear,” Lir cracked his knuckles, then popped his neck, “if we don’t get her back—”
“We will.” Tiernan refused to think of any alternate possibility. They’d get her back.Hewould bring her back himself, and if it meant summoning the Furies and catapulting Faeven into the chaos of darkness, then so be it.
Brynn admired the honed tip of her dagger, turning it so it reflected the last shreds of sunlight dwindling from the sky. Then she used it to file one of her nails. “If he so much as lays one finger on her, if one fucking hair on Maeve’s head is out of place—”
“He wouldn’t dare,” Merrick countered.
“But Parisa would.”
Tiernan cut his hunter down with a look, but Merrick didn’t blanch or falter. He kept his face impassive, firmly believing that his plan to bring Maeve back would work. Tiernan wanted to have faith in him, but the truth was already out there. Parisawouldhurt Maeve. She’d already done so once before. Images of Lir carrying Maeve, bleeding and nearly broken, stole through his memory. The way Fearghal had carved her body with his blade caused Tiernan’s blood to burn and his temper to rage. Parisa would attempt to break Maeve again, wholly this time. She would stop at nothing to bend Maeve to her will.
“You shouldn’t have done it.” Ceridwen’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “You shouldn’t have given her up for me.”
“Don’t worry, High Princess.” Merrick grinned, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s just as the High King said, we have a plan.”
