Page 43 of Realm of Nightmares
“I’m aware,” he drawled, adjusting the fit of his coat once more. “I’ll take my chances.”
“Your funeral,” Brynn muttered, flipping her dagger once, then catching it between her thumb and forefinger.
Casimir ignored the slight. “Parisa has an arsenal of dark fae at her disposal. She’s gained total control of the Sluagh and will use them in the upcoming war against you, High Queen Ciara, and High King Dorian.”
“This is nothing new.” Tiernan’s patience waned. If the drakon had nothing of consequence to say, he would be of little use to them.
“Every blade in her armory has been coated with a dark venom, potent enough that even one slice would render the strongest of your warriors incapacitated.” Casimir’s dark gaze landed upon each of them, ensuring they all knew the gravity of the situation. “They must be avoided at all costs.”
Damn. It was exactly as they had feared. If they couldn’t counter the venom blades, many soldiers would fall, or worse, be taken captive. Thanks to Aran, they were equipped with the siphoning devices, but Tiernan wouldn’t divulge that information freely. Especially not to Casimir.
Lir stepped closer, the studded toes of his boots kicking up bits of sand and dirt in his wake. “Why are you telling us this?”
Casimir blew out a low breath. A look passed over his face, one of dejection. The battle-hardened warrior held the countenance of a soul who had witnessed years of strife and unrest. “Because I’ve seen the devastation of such sorcery before.”
“What do you mean?” Ceridwen asked, and a distinctive wariness crept into her tone.
“Parisa has found avirdis lepatite. A stone of great power that can be used to cast an infinite number of dark spells.” His eyes reflected the war that stole everything from them. “Carman used such a stone during her conquest of Faeven.”
Unease crawled through the ranks of soldiers encircling them, spreading like a shadow of their past. Everyone remembered. The Four Courts had barely recovered from the Evernight War when Carman slipped into the borders of Faeven and toppled each of them, one after the other, forcing them to their knees before her. The Furies had laid waste to everything, and the world looked eerily similar to how it did now—a land of bitter decay and death.
If Parisa was stronger than Carman, she would be unstoppable.
The weighted silence was enough for Casimir, and he nodded once, stepping back. “I’ll return with more information soon.”
Summer warriors readied their swords, but Tiernan lifted his hand, ordering them to stand down.
“What do you want?” he asked as Casimir prepared to shift into his drakon form. “In exchange for the information you’re giving us?”
“I want you to promise me that when the time comes, you’ll assist Maeve in doing what must be done.” Puffs of smoke churned around him and the guards standing closest to him stumbled back while the rise of magic engulfed them.
“And what’s that?” Tiernan called out.
“You’ll know.”
Seconds later, a massive dragon emerged from the smoke, extending his dark bronze wings. He craned his neck to look down upon them, the scales on his body moving in unison like that of a thousand of the finest crafted shields. Fangs the size of full-length swords jutted from his elongated mouth. His talons were curved and sharpened to fine points, capable of crushing bones to dust. Molten eyes with slits for pupils zeroed in on Tiernan, and Casimir lowered his head before beating his wings once, twice, then vaulting skyward.
Tiernan watched the drakon vanish into the thick expanse of clouds, leaving a trail of smoke in his wake.
Claws of apprehension sunk into his neck. They hadn’t been able to defeat Carman when she gained control of Faeven, not without Danua, the goddess of life.If Parisa attacked before Maeve returned from the Ether, the Four Courts would fall into ruin forever.
* * *
Low-lyingclouds banked along the outer edges of the House of Death, swallowing up its obsidian spires and sweeping arches in a swath of gray fog. Maeve tossed her plaited hair over one shoulder, and the fallen wisps from the braid curled wildly in the damp air. She ducked her chin into her thick sweater against the brisk breeze that nipped at her cheeks, treading alongside Rowan across the stone courtyard where they trained.
Maeve originally assumed they would fly to the Gaulbron Deep to meet with Queen Marella, but Rowan led her out the opposite end of the grounds into an open field. A stable stood at the far end, set against the backdrop of a forest whose trees looked old enough to remember the first breath of magic.
The woods here were not welcoming.
Something about them set Maeve’s nerves on edge. The closer they drew toward the stables, to where the darkened grove of trees seemed to wait and watch her every move, the more intensely her instincts screamed at her to run in the other direction. To escape. To get as far away from this forest as possible.
She inched closer to Rowan.
They approached the stables, and Maeve shook off her growing sense of unease. A slatted fence ran along the perimeter of a wide field, enclosing the space, and inside there were rows of stalls housing a wide selection of stallions and mares. At the very back of the stables, the air changed, like it was charged by some unrecognizable force. Gone was the pungent smell of manure and fresh hay. In its place was the strange scent of damp moss and burnt wood.
“Here we are.” Rowan unhooked the lock and pulled open the gate, stepping back to allow Maeve entry first.
She gasped, clamping one hand over her mouth in a pitiful effort to disguise her shock.
