Page 119 of Realm of Nightmares
Ceridwen pressed her lips into a thin, disproving line.
“You don’t believe me.” He stepped back, shoving the map back into his pocket.
“It’s not that…” Ceridwen sighed, whirling away from him in a flurry of satin. She idly twirled one loose strand of blonde hair around her finger, the slightest line wrinkling across her usually smooth brow. “It’s just, you’ve been under so much pressure. The stress of everything is building inside of you and wearing you down. Breaking you. I can see it, everyone can see it.”
“I’m fine.” He ground the words out, the truth of her statements leaving him too raw. Too exposed.
“You’re not fine!” Her voice pitched, startling him. Ceridwen never yelled. “You are taking on too much. You think I don’t see how the weight of our survival, how the future of our Court hinders you daily? Do you think I’m blind to it? You act as if this war is yours alone to fight. But it’s not. Your legion serves you. Your Court stands with you.”
She was pacing now, the skirts of her robe swirling around her like a storm. Her eyes flashed, twilight blue to midnight violet. “I will not pretend to know what it’s like to have mysirrataken from me, and I pray to the goddess I might never know such anguish. But don’t think for one moment that I do notfeelyour torment. Your constant agony. The way the guilt of your deal with Aed crashes into you daily. If you do not release it, you will drown.”
“Ceridwen—”
She raised her hand to silence him. “I amnotdone.”
Tiernan clamped his mouth shut. She was the epitome of their mother. All grace and fury.
When she faced him fully, her eyes had gone white, her hair floated around her like ribbons of gold, and she glowed with the aura of a goddess.
“You are powerful, Tiernan Velless. Do not doubt your inner strength. Destruction was never who you were, it was never destined for you. That was borrowed magic.” The words came from Ceridwen’s mouth, but the voice did not belong to her. It was ethereal. Ancient. Divine. “Your fate is entwined with the Dawnbringer, as your love for her has spanned centuries. You bear the mark of witch thread, a gift bestowed on you out of a debt owed to me, for even now, your Strand bonding you to the Dawnbringer fades.”
Tiernan glanced down and ripped open his shirt. Two buttons popped off, revealing the truth like a swift punch to the gut. His heart twinged, ached. The Strand binding him to Maeve was barely recognizable, nearly extinguished from his skin.
“How…” he croaked, but the force inhabiting his sister’s body burned brighter, filling the room with a burst of magic, making her glow nearly as bright as the sun. The brilliance of it brought him to his knees.
“Only you can save her.” The light gradually dimmed, and the heavenly voice ebbed away. “Only you can break her.”
Ceridwen’s shoulders slumped, her eyes rolled back in her head, and Tiernan jumped to his feet, sweeping her up before she hit the floor.
“Damn it,” he muttered, carrying her back to her bed and laying her down gently. He draped a soft blanket over his sister, then lightly brushed her hair back from her face.
“Deirdre.”He called to her through his mind.
“Yes, my lord?”Her response was swift.
“I need you to come stay with Ceridwen. She’s had another…vision.”
He didn’t think telling the older woman he’d just witnessed his sister’s body become occupied by who he assumed was the goddess of life was the smartest idea.
“Right away, my lord.”
Tiernan stepped away from his twin’s bed. He was never one to be indecisive. Every choice, every command, had always been issued with unwavering certainty. Yet now his own thoughts warred with one another.
Did he present his findings to Lir, Merrick, and Brynn and proceed with his plan of attack?
His gaze dipped to the mark on his wrist.
Or did he research all he could find on this supposed witch thread?
Fortunately, his decision was made for him, though it had nothing to do with either thought arguing for space in his head.
First, Tiernan would go into Niahvess. Because there was noise, the sound of which he hadn’t heard in many months.
Music carried up from the floating city. Laughter rang out in the early morning hours. The voices, the happiness, of his citizens.
ChapterThirty-Five
Maeve was overwhelmed by the scent of night jasmine, wooded moss, and mountain sage. She inhaled.
