Page 99 of Throne of Dreams
Maeve flinched at the Winter queen’s name, but no one paid her any attention.
“Of course.” Ceridwen dipped her head and her gaze slid to Maeve.
Tiernan headed for the door and Maeve stood, clutching the blanket around herself and lifting her chin out of spite. “And what of me, my lord?”
He stilled, one hand on the door. Then, “You do not answer to me, High Princess. So, you may do as you wish.”
His words were a slap across her face. “Tiernan, please…”
But he was already gone, and he didn’t bother looking back.
Maeve’s mouth fell open, and she caught Ceridwen’s lingering gaze. “Cer, I—”
Ceridwen lifted one slender hand, quieting her. “I love my brother. Very much. And I agree he made a terrible mistake when he allowed Ciara into his quarters. And you had every right to be furious with him. Honestly, I would’ve extracted petty revenge myself if I’d been in your place.” She smoothed her hands down the front of her gown, then clasped them together, and when she faced Maeve, she was Archfae. Resilient. Elegant. Final. “But tonight…you showed him the truth of your heart, and that is not something even I can repair.”
She dipped her head, a look of pained remorse flitting across her face, then slowly turned to walk away.
Maeve had never felt more alone.
ChapterTwenty-Eight
Maeve returned to her room.
Alone.
Gone was the rich laughter and sounds of celebration that once filled the air. Everyone had been sent home, Sunatalis was over, and a distinctive stillness had settled throughout the Summer Court.
She kicked off her heels and padded across her bedroom to where the double doors of her balcony were wide open in welcome. The warm summer breeze kissed her skin, enveloping her in a comforting embrace.
She’d broken Tiernan’s heart.
But she hadn’t done so on purpose. She’d only wanted him to wallow in a murky pool of guilt for a while. She’d wanted him ripe with envy. Her plan failed miserably. From the clash of tempers between them, to her accidentallyfadingto the Autumn Court, to the fight with Garvan, everything unraveled so quickly, and she hadn’t been able to stop it. She hadn’t been able to stop herself. She’d been so consumed by saving the life of an innocent that she tossed aside her own feelings for the one male she…enjoyed? Adored? Admired? Cared for? Did she love Tiernan? Was that why her heart was suddenly splintering like shards of broken glass? Was that the reason the Strand between them burned so badly that her chest literallyachedfor him?
He was good and kind. All the things she never thought she’d find in a mate. He protected those he loved, and the depth of his loyalty was unlike anything she’d ever seen or experienced, save for Saoirse. She’d almost lost count of the number of times he’d saved her life. When she’d been on the brink of death from poisoning, he’d stayed by her side. When the Spring fae wanted her as their High Queen, he hadn’t balked at the idea. Instead, he’d offered to help build her a Court.
It was Tiernan who was constantly forcing her to face her fear, encouraging her, reminding her of who she was and what she’d become. She was Archfae. The High Princess of Autumn. Theanam ó Danua.The Dawnbringer. All these things defined her by her magic and that alone should’ve been enough to save her from the trials and trauma of her past, from her suffering.
An uncomfortable sensation squeezed inside of her heart, her foolish mortal heart. Her singular weakness. Even Rowan had known it. When they’d stood on the edge of the Shores all those months ago, he’d told her it didn’t matter how well she fought or the depth of her bravery. She would always be weak…because of her heart. Perhaps he was right. She had all this magic, all this power, yet it never seemed to be enough.
Her footsteps carried her out onto the balcony, and she leaned over the railing to gaze up at the stars. They twinkled and sparkled like diamonds against the velvet of the night. The fates were cruel, she decided. It seemed unfair that she would be forced to choose between loving the one taken from her and loving the one destined for her. Whatever the gods and goddesses had planned, whatever was written in the stars, was more of a punishment than anything else.
Fearghal had nearly broken her once, and she’d vowed to never yield to another. Yet this feeling, this sense of being torn, of relentless remorse, was fracturing her soul.
Her nose tingled. Burned. The tears slid down her cheeks before she could stop them.
Maeve let them fall.
She’d hurt Tiernan, far worse than he’d hurt her. She’d acted out of rage and bitterness, she’d wanted him to know the pain he’d caused her. Foolishly, she thought she’d feel better for it. She’d been so terribly wrong. This was not better. This was worse. A thousand times worse.
She gasped as a strangled sob escaped from the back of her throat. Tremors wrecked her as she sniffed and her shoulders shook, the tears falling more freely now. With one hand pressed to the Strand, the bond marking her heart, Maeve cried.
“Astora.”
Maeve whipped around to see Tiernan standing just outside the doors of the balcony they shared. He was so devastatingly beautiful. The wounds he’d received during his fight with Garvan were already beginning to heal. He’d removed most of his royal garb and was back to wearing his usual simple attire. A crisp button-down shirt cuffed to the elbows with the top two buttons undone, exposing his glorious chest and the golden tattoo crawling up his neck. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his pants and when he stepped toward her, his boots clicked softly against the stone floor.
Her chest rose and fell in short, ragged breaths.
He moved closer until mere inches separated them, and he simply stood there, watching her. Not touching. Just looking. So close yet so very far away. His distance nearly severed the bond between them, and she gave a startled cry.
