Page 34 of Realm of Nightmares
Propped up with a half a dozen downy pillows, she blinked away the exhaustion and took in her surroundings. The bedroom was sumptuous, with pale gray walls overlaid with matte black stones patterned to resemble intricate lace. Ebony flooring stretched from one side of the room to the other, and a rich fur rug was sprawled before the hearth. Two chairs rested by the fireplace, and gauzy white draperies barely obscured the massive windows where rain slid down the panes of glass like liquid diamonds. A chandelier of faerie light hung from the slate gray ceiling, its glow more blue than gold, casting the space in a wash of artificial moonlight.
The door to the bedroom groaned open, and in walked Aed with Laurel right on his heels.
He strode over to her, worry etched faintly across his brow. “Dawnbringer.” His gaze flicked over her healing injuries. “You gave us quite a scare.”
If he only knew.
Maeve shivered, remembering the violent attack of the wandering souls. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s not what you should be apologizing for,” Laurel spat.
Her long hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail, and she wore a fashionable gown of iridescent black. It fell off her shoulders, covering her arms, and wrapped around her curves like the caress of nightfall. Gone was the immaculate armor she’d worn when she’d appeared in the alley. Though she looked much more like her usual cross self, Maeve couldn’t erase the image of the weapon she’d carried—the sword that seemed to swallow every fragment of light.
It was made of nightmares.
“If anything,” Laurel continued, her eyes flashing with temper, “you should apologize for—”
Dense magic and the smell of suffocatingly bitter florals saturated the air around them. The hand of death.
All it took was the slightest flare of power and one warning look from Aed, and Laurel snapped her mouth shut.
He crossed his arms, the wide expanse of his muscles rippling beneath the elegantly cut shirt he wore. Again, he glanced at Maeve. “Are you well?”
“Yes.” It was a lie and her voice wavered in betrayal.
Once more, she’d lost control of the soul magic, its greatness so overpowering, she hadn’t been able to stop it. She’d forgotten how to fight, how to save herself. Lost to the swell of insurmountable fear, she’d felt herself fracture. Except this time there was no one there to help piece her back together.
“Your injuries—”
The wall of windows behind Aed shattered. Shards of glass rained down and he lifted one hand like an afterthought, shielding Maeve, Laurel, and even the healer from the assault.
A mountain of shadows emerged from the darkness of night and Maeve screamed, gripped with an all-too familiar fear.
Yet just as quickly as they materialized, they morphed into a body, into a face she recognized.Rowan knelt on the ground by her bed, his face a mask of raw fury.
“Was that really necessary?” Aed asked. He waved his hand toward the windows, and they repaired themselves, the bits of broken glass evaporating.
Rowan ignored him.
“What happened?” he growled as his burning gaze swept over her body. “Who did this to you?”
“She was attacked.” Aed’s statement sliced through Rowan’s demand with chilly indifference, and the temperature in the room plummeted. “By wandering souls.”
“What?” He was on his feet a second later, his shadows billowing around him. “When?”
“After you shoved me out of your apartment.” Maeve’s whisper split the unsteady tension between the two males.
The healer fae bustled around Rowan, nudging him out of her way as she carried over a spool of shimmering thread and a needle that looked entirely too large for the operation she was about to perform.
“If another soul dares to touch you,” Rowan stated, stalking about the room, “I swear to the gods—”
Aed cleared his throat. “I’m standing right here.”
“Yet you did nothing to protect her.” Rowan’s words were clipped, each one dripping with disdain.
The god of death ran his teeth along his bottom lip, and when he spoke, his breath frosted before him. “I suppose I could’ve escorted her back to the library as opposed to tossing her out into the night, but alas, I was preoccupied.” He pinned Rowan with a ruthless stare. “What’s your excuse?”
Laurel snorted, the corner of her mouth twisting into a sneer. “Well, this is going to be a fucking disaster.”
