Page 111 of Realm of Nightmares
“And Ciara,” Tiernan said, leveling his friend with a knowing look.
Merrick groaned. “Fine. And Ciara.”
Tiernan understood the relationship between Merrick and his sister remained strained, but including Ciara in these discussions was imperative to their success. There was no other way around it. If they wanted to win this war, they would need every available connection, every last trace of magic.
“Make sure everyone is prepared for tonight. Saoirse and Casimir as well.” At Tiernan’s order, Merrick stood. “We need to develop a solid plan against Parisa, one that doesn’t rely on Maeve to save our asses.”
“On it, my lord.” Merrick gave him a mock salute and turned to leave, coming to an abrupt halt as the Furies appeared on the balcony, their wraith-like bodies not quite touching the ground.
Only two stood, their eyes blazing like hot coals. Balor was not among them.
“Your Grace.” They bowed in unison.
“Tethra. Dian.” Tiernan sensed Merrick moving to stand behind him. His hunter didn’t yet trust the Furies, at least not enough to leave him alone in their company. “What can I do for you?”
Dian glided forward, and Tiernan tensed, uneasy but dignified. “We’d like to be a part of the war discussion.”
Tiernan scowled. “How did you—”
“Furies have remarkable hearing, Your Grace.” Tethra bowed again. “We’re yours to command, whatever you need of us.”
“Very well.” Tiernan eased back in his seat, clasped his hand together. “I know Maeve would approve of such a request and since she trusts you implicitly, then I do as well.”
The Furies nodded in approval, but Tiernan cleared his throat. There was one very particular matter that needed to be addressed. “Have you received any word from Balor?”
Their gaunt, ghostly faces displayed no emotion. Their bodies, more shadow than actual muscle and bone, seemed to unfurl. Dian inclined his head. “Nothing yet.”
Regret gnawed at him.
“He knows the extent of his capabilities, Your Grace.” Tethra spread his long arms wide, and the shadows flared, spreading around him.
“And even if he doesn’t,” Dian continued, “his sacrifice is far from self-serving. Everything we do, we do for High Queen Maeve. For the greater good.”
“Understood.” Their statements did little to ease Tiernan’s remorse. If Balor had survived the attack of the cursedfaolan, certainly he would’ve returned already. “Is there anything else?”
Dian dipped his head. “That’s all, my lord.”
The Furies took their leave, and Merrick slipped out the door behind them, all stealth and silence.
Alone, Tiernan reached for his cup of tea, his gaze landing on the strange mark on his wrist.
More than once, the imprint warmed, burned, and left him overcome with a sense of desperation. Of panic and fear. But those were mere moments. Brief and indistinguishable. There was something else as well. Deeper. Meaningful. Powerful. A connection to Maeve. It was obvious the two mountains in the design represented the twin peaks of his Court. The starburst, however, was most puzzling. It gave him cause to hope. To wish. To dream.
* * *
Maevefadedback into her bedroom at the House of Death, and Cahira immediately pounced upon her.
She ruffled the pup’s fur and gave her a loving scratch behind the ears. But the Strand marking her forearm, the one binding her to Laurel, started to ache. To burn. An intense magic sent waves of tingling numbness from her fingers to her shoulder. She’d never broken a vow before, at least not yet, and she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know what would happen if she failed to uphold her end of the bargain.
“Come on, Cahira.” Maeve clicked her tongue. “Let’s go find this book and then—”
The door to her room blew open, revealing a swath of midnight and spiraling shadows. The air hummed, electrified by magic and wrath. Rowan stalked through the darkness, his face a mask of barely contained fury, mere inches from her own.
“Where the hell have you been?” he demanded.
Maeve drew herself up, irritated by his tone. She owed him no explanations. “I’m pretty sure you already know the answer to that question.”
“Damn it, Maeve.” His shadows crawled along the walls, snaking their way up to the ceiling like streamers of black velvet. “I told you not to go without me.”
