Page 9 of Throne of Dreams
She found Lir and Ceridwen staring at her and asked, “What is it?”
“I’m impressed, Your Highness.” Lir toed the sand with his silver-studded boot.
“Why?”
He shifted, uneasy. “I didn’t expect you to be so…I mean, that is…Niahvess isn’t—”
Ceridwen gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “What Lir is trying to say is that he’s in awe of your ability to make everyone feel like they’re worthy of your time. You shine when you’re happy, Maeve. You simply glow.”
A flush bled into Maeve’s cheeks.
“Exactly.” Lir nodded and coughed. Once. “That’s exactly what I was trying to say.” His dark brows lifted in amusement. “So, you want to fly home?”
“Absolutely not,” Maeve laughed. “I think I’ll walk.”
“You know,” Ceridwen said as she linked her arm through Maeve’s. “You’ll have to learn how tofadeeventually.”
“One thing at a time, Your Highness,” Maeve teased and together they walked back to the palace.
* * *
Maeve didn’t knowhe was watching her. She didn’t know he was smiling, enjoying the way she seemed to fit in so seamlessly with his people.
Tiernan couldn’t have prepared himself for that moment. Not when she started creating flower crowns and swords for all the fae children, and not when they gazed up at her like she was a queen. She looked so natural among his citizens, so perfect…
And when she damn near orgasmed in the sky because of the simplest of touches, he’d almost come undone. Never had he been more grateful for an interruption from Merrick.
His top scout had returned from the human lands with news of a great stirring. It seemed the Scathing was no longer a gaping chasm of disease and rot, but a portal of some kind. A gateway. It was imperative they investigate it at once, especially since Merrick had found Saoirse—the elite warrior who was also Maeve’s best friend—was indeed still alive.
The Furies, however, had not yet been located, leaving Tiernan uneasy. The Furies were capable of great destruction, darkness, and death. They left Faeven in ruin, and the rebuild after their deaths had taken much time and effort. Knowing they were alive again and free to roam the realm was unsettling. If they did in fact answer to Maeve, then that eased his worries some. It meant there was a chance they could be swayed to fight Parisa on her behalf. Merrick just had to find them first.
After discussing the updated reports with Merrick, they’d been on their way back to the beach where he’d left Maeve. Only what he’d discovered had left him too stunned to speak.
She’d been kneeling on the sand with her wings spread out, a throng of fae children huddled before her, and her smile…
Gods, if she ever smiled like that at him, his heart would cease to beat.
Even Merrick had known well enough, and understood the depth of his silence, to walk away without another word.
Everything about her was so perfect. Soright. Then she laughed. An actual laugh and the pain of knowing it wasn’t for him was brutal. The sound of it was a song, one he’d commit to his memory for eternity.
He forced himself to turn around, to walk away and not look back.
ChapterThree
The nightshade-soaked blade sliced into her skin. Fire and wrath serrated her flesh, marred her with sweeping, angry red lines. The burn of it was like a thousand suns.
Her frenzied magic tried to heal and save her, but there was no erasing the pain. Blood spilled from her wounds, sliding down her arms and abdomen in sticky rivers of red. Another slice. Another wave of agony. Still, he continued to ruin and wreck her. To scar her. To mark her with his blade.
He laughed from the shadows, faded in front of her and then behind her so quickly she barely had time to focus on him. His sickening whispers, his promises of pain, crawled over her neck and bare shoulders like the pinpricks of spider legs.
A rush of nausea slammed into her, left her doubling over and gasping for air. Dizziness swept through her until her vision swam and stars danced in front of her eyes.
But Maeve refused to scream. She refused to give him the satisfaction.
His menacing laughter echoed through the dungeon. It slithered over her, snake-like, and she shivered in spite of herself.
He angled the tip of his blade beneath her chin and tilted her face up to look him in the eyes. They were the color of kohl. Empty and cold. Corded black veins bulged along his neck and bare chest. His horns stuck out from his mop of copper hair. He flashed her a grin and displayed a set of dagger-like teeth.
