Page 42 of Realm of Nightmares
Clad in armor with both of his swords at the ready, Tiernan looked to the dull sky.
Summer Legion warriors were posted at every position along the outer rim of the city and the palace. Archers lined the high walls, a winding row of cobalt blue and gold, their bows notched and arrows aimed toward the shadowy outline drifting between layers of dense clouds.
Tiernan only knew of one drakon still in existence.
Casimir.
Lir and Merrick stood beside him, each fully prepared to take down the one responsible for leaving Maeve in Parisa’s clutches. Brynn took up Merrick’s left, her spiral curls billowing out behind her in the breeze. Ceridwen positioned herself on the far right, a strap of jeweled daggers glinting from her waist. Together they formed a protective barricade, safeguarding the gates and courtyard of the Summer Court from the impending threat.
The winged spear cut through the leaden sky, the beating a sound reminiscent of a bird of prey. He appeared then, gliding overhead, shifting his angle on the wind and drawing closer to the ground. Charred gray scales covered his body, and his long tail was studded in curving spikes. Smoke plumed from his nostrils, and he spread his wings as he swept in to land, the spindly bones protruding against the membranous span like broken spires. A slate-gray cloud concealed him completely, permeating the air with the scent of orange blossom and cedarwood. When it finally cleared, Casimir was surrounded.
He pulled back his cape, running a hand through his dark, unkempt hair, without a care in the world. As though he didn’t have a dozen nightshade-dipped blades ready to pierce him straight through the heart.
Lifting both hands in an act of surrender, he called out, “I’m unarmed. I’ve come to speak with the High King.”
Lirfadedfrom Tiernan’s side and was directly in front of Casimir before he could even respond. “On whose behalf?”
His voice dripped with vengeance.
Casimir lowered his arms. “My own.”
Tiernan strode up, his wings bursting from his back in a show of midnight and violet. Two could play at this game. Should the drakon consider taking flight, it would do him well to know that the skies would merely level the playing field. The path of warriors parted before him as he came face to face with Casimir, Merrick and Brynn following closely behind.
“The Spring Court is shrouded.” Tiernan’s gaze swept over the once-soulless warrior. He looked haggard and far less intimidating than the last time he saw him. Casimir’s dark brown skin resembled leather, worn and cracked. Heavy folds of age and weariness lined his eyes and hollowed his cheekbones. He was degraded, yet he still wore the ostentatious uniform of the Spring Court. “How did you get out?” Tiernan demanded.
Casimir spread his arms, as though the answer was obvious. “Fae magic has no effect on the drakon. We are bound to a separate set of laws. Nothing can hold us against our will, save for iron.”
Merrick scoffed, lifting his sword higher. “Except for that one time you bound your soul to a sorceress.”
Tension thickened, smothering them, and Casimir’s body grew taut, his jaw locking into place. “Except for that.”
From the corner of Tiernan’s eye, he caught Brynn flicking the blade of her dagger back and forth between her knuckles. “And you expect us to believe you?”
“I expect you to believe that I’m here to offer my assistance.” His molten gaze spared her a glance, then returned to Tiernan. “I’ve come to help, to prove myself to Maeve.”
“No,” Lir growled, his shoulders bunching. He looked ready to pounce, ripe with the desire to attack. Or it was possible he planned to shift into his wolf form and rip out Casimir’s throat. Either way, Tiernan didn’t intend to stop him. “You do not get the privilege of speaking her name. Not after such a betrayal.”
Casimir had the decency to wince against the harsh claim. “It wasn’t my intention for Maeve to be hurt—”
“Brutalized,” Brynn interjected, her eyes flashing to a venomous black.
“I didn’t know,” he ground out, straightening the stiff cuffs of his green coat. “I thought Parisa wanted to use her as a weapon. I didn’t realize she was going to have herbutchered.”
The way he said it caused Tiernan’s gut to roil.
Casimir spread his arms wide, pleading. “Had I known, I would’ve done more to stop it.”
“Bullshit,” Merrick snarled. His temper flared, his paralyzing magic expanding, stealing all the pink from his hair, leaving it winter white. “You handed her over to Parisa on a silver platter. You cared only for yourself. She meantnothingto you—not until it was too late. After she’d been tortured, the beauty and fire of her will thoroughlybroken.”
“Easy, Mer,” Ceridwen warned, gripping his elbow. He reined himself in, but the fury etching his face did not ease.
“It was a mistake.” Casimir ducked his head, bowing before them. “One I regret immensely.”
Tiernan stepped forward, raising his sword so the tip met its mark—Casimir’s heart. “Say your piece, drakon.”
He didn’t look at all bothered by the threat. In fact, he looked ready to die. “I’ve come to warn you about Parisa’s plans.”
“You should know that the last fae who attempted to work against Parisa ended up with his intestines painting the stones of my courtyard.”
