Page 149 of Throne of Dreams
Shit.
There was nowhere to hide.
She crouched low, pressing herself into the cold stone as the footsteps drew nearer. Even with the weak light, she could just make out the outline of a male fae in scarlet leather armor. If he discovered her room empty, he’d sound the alarm.
He huffed out a breath as he stalked past her, muttering to himself, then pounded against the door to her room with his meaty fist. “Dinner!” He unhooked one of the keys dangling from his belt and slid it into the lock.
Maeve knew what would come next.
The door swung open, and she leapt up, rushing him from behind.
The guard whipped around, eyes wide and mouth open, right as she plunged her Aurastone into his chest.
She yanked it out, hating the sound of the blade sliding against flesh. Crimson soaked his leathers, looking almost black in the faint light. He crumpled, the weight of his large body nearly crushing her, but she hooked her arms under his and dragged him into the room. Maeve panted, heaving his lifeless body onto the bed. She snatched the blanket Aeralie had given her and draped it over his body. Already so much time had passed, and she was right back where she started. Locking the door behind her and refusing to look back, she set off down the hall again, forcing herself to move faster.
One.
She would keep count of all the lives she took that night.
Picking up her pace, she caught sight of another guard coming her way, likely to see what was taking the other one so long. She slid closer to the ground, Aurastone poised to strike. He strode by and she lunged, coiling one hand into his hair, yanking his head back, and slitting his throat. He gurgled and choked, causing Maeve to cringe. She sucked in a breath, hating herself. Just like with the first guard, she took the brunt of his dead weight and gradually lowered him to the ground to make the drop as soundless as possible.
Two.
Her heart raced, frantic with the pulse of distress and regret.
She continued down the corridor and came upon another guard. He was lounging against the wall, his silhouette illuminated by the only burning sconce in the hall. Faerie light washed over him in an amber glow, and he looked to be reading a thin piece of parchment. Maeve didn’t even hesitate. She sprinted forward, piercing him with her Aurastone, ramming it right into his heart. He went down quickly, and the parchment he held fluttered to the ground in a slow, swirling movement.
Only when it landed did Maeve realize it wasn’t a letter at all.
It was a small, intricate painting on gossamer paper. The image depicted was one of the faerie she just killed, as well as a female with striking eyes. In her arms was a tiny infant.
Maeve’s heart wrenched inside her chest. Disgrace coated her skin, leaving her palms clammy and damp.
He was a father. He had a wife and a child.
And she’d murdered him without a second thought. She’d stolen away his life. Taken it without thinking about what he left behind. What any of them left behind.
Unbidden, tears sprung to her eyes.
Three.
Shame coursed through her. She forced her gaze away from the intimate painting, from the sweet, small family she’d ripped apart. Her mortal heart seized. She forced herself to keep going even though her chest ached. She couldn’t stop.
If she quit now, if she turned back, if she caved to the dark thoughts crowding her mind, then Faeven would fall. The dark fae would overrun the Four Courts and they would all eventually succumb to Parisa’s rule. History would repeat itself like it had done when Carman invaded, and Maeve couldn’t allow that to happen. She would protect the innocent, she would protect her Court. She would defend those she loved, and she would defend her throne. Faeven was her home now, and she would fight for it to the death. She was Archfae. The Dawnbringer. The soul of the goddess Danua ran through her blood.
But she was more than all those titles.
Maeve was awarrior.It didn’t matter if she’d been broken. It didn’t matter if the only life she’d ever known had been ripped away from her, if she’d been forced into a world she’d been born to hate. She would take every hard day, every obstacle, every trial, and conquer them all. Because she would never back down. She would never quit.
I’m a fucking fae and I fear nothing.
Tightening her grip on the Aurastone, she pushed on toward the direction she hoped would lead to her freedom. Her breathing was ragged now, labored as the pressure of what she’d done sat heavy upon her heart. Rounding a corner, she struggled to focus, to keep herself detached from the situation at hand. But she couldn’t shake her last kill from replaying over and over in her mind. The way the little painting haphazardly floated to the ground was a memory she couldn’t quit. These were her citizens as well. Her guards. Even if they weren’t quick to admit it. She was the High Princess of Autumn…and she was committing treachery.
Panicked thoughts muddled her mind, and she wished Ceridwen was there to fill her with calm and purpose, to ease the burden overwhelming her. Distracted, she didn’t even see the guard approach her until it was too late.
He lurched forward, sword drawn, and Maeve dropped low, rolling away from him. She popped back up to his right.
“You’re making a mistake!” he shouted, and Maeve winced, all remaining opportunities to be discreet vanishing at the sound of his booming voice.
