Page 39 of Realm of Nightmares
It was quite possibly the best cup of coffee ever.
Maeve rolled her neck from side to side. She was sore after last night, but already feeling better. She took one more sip and set the mug down, her gaze landing on the glittery black Strand encircling her thumb. The one that reminded her of a constellation.
“When the stars align.”
It was another promise. Another vow tying her to some unfortunate fate. The will ó wisp’s face as she spoke the words wavered in her mind before vanishing once more.
A door at the far end of the hall opened, its cavernous groan resonating through the room.
She saw the slip of shadows first.Then Rowan appeared.
His face was drawn, the remnants of exhaustion seeping into his eyes. He was dressed all in black. His cape moved around him as though it had a mind of its own, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, revealing the jagged scars on his chest.
He raked a hand through his hair, so the pieces fell haphazardly across his face. “May I join you?”
Maeve gestured at one of the many empty chairs and he strode forward, choosing the seat directly across from her.
A cup of coffee appeared before him as well, except his was topped with frothy white foam and the scent of hazelnuts and cream wafted toward her. He stared at it, as though contemplating whether or not he actually wanted it, then lifted his gaze to her.
“I’d like to apologize to you, Maeve.”
She picked up a biscuit, broke it in half, then swirled it in the small bowl of chocolate. “For?”
“Everything.”
Maeve popped the piece of biscuit into her mouth, keeping her expression neutral as the buttered, flaky biscuit and creamy chocolate left her damn near orgasmic. She chewed slowly, enjoying the delicious breakfast, and took her time to respond.
She grabbed another chunk of biscuit. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to be more specific.”
“I’m sorry for all the times I left you alone. I’m sorry for being dishonest, for keeping so much from you, especially when we first met. I’m sorry for…”
He trailed off then.
“Maeve, look at me.”
She did, and his lavender eyes, once so full of intrigue and allure, were cloudy and troubled.
“I’m sorry for hurting you.” He reached across the table and took her hand. “For shoving you out. I’ll never forgive myself for it.”
“Guilt doesn’t make us stronger, Rowan.” Gradually, she pulled away, and her hand slipped from his hold. “It hardens our souls, it drains us of confidence, and fills us with doubt. With uncertainty. Remorse is nothing any of us should be forced to live with. It’s merely a means of self-destruction.”
When she spoke again, she kept her voice soft. “You, of all people, should know that.”
A stretch of familiar quiet settled between them.
Rowan took a sip of his coffee, then angled his head, one dark brow arching in question.
“Why didn’t youfade?” he asked suddenly.
“What?”
“When the souls found you,” he explained. “You could’ve justfadedto safety.”
“I don’t know.” Maeve shook her head, tucking her golden pink hair behind one ear. She dropped her hands into her lap, fidgeting with the hem of the sweater she wore. Threads of silver wove between the soft gray fabric in the shape of crescent moons. “I couldn’t think. I couldn’t do anything. It was like…”
“Like what?” Rowan prodded.
She shifted and rubbed her hands against the leather of her pants. “Like I couldn’t remember.”
