Page 48 of Realm of Nightmares
Now, with the stones safely in his pocket, he was on his way back to the palace.
He sensed Lirfadeonto the cobblestone path behind him. He’d recognize his commander’s composed presence anywhere.
Tiernan paused at the top of one of the walking bridges, crossed his arms, and leaned over the railing. The twin mountain peaks were barely visible from behind a barrier of clouds settling between them and sinking down into the valley. Already the expanse of land where he’d promised to build Maeve’s Court was declining, the beauty of it waning like the last shred of moonlight before the night sky goes completely dark.
“We’re losing her.”
He spoke the words out loud for himself, but Lir nodded once.
Her.
Maeve.
Faeven.
The word held multiple meanings, all of them true.
Lir came to stand beside him. He ran a hand through his tight twists of dark brown hair. “There’s still time, my lord.”
“I fear that is the one thing we don’t have,” Tiernan admitted. He was caught in some strange warp of time, where the days continued to pass without fail, yet it felt like nothing had changed.
“I’ve sent Merrick and four of his scouts to the Autumn Court in search of the will ó wisp.” Lir’s back straightened and his hands curved around the railing’s edge, his knuckles whitening. “High King Dorian and the High Prince have been informed of their expected arrival.”
Tiernan nodded. There was no doubt in his mind that Merrick was the best hunter in the faerie realm. He could track anyone and anything, even if he was given the barest of scents to locate them. There were times he’d traveled hundreds of miles to search out another fae, through forests, mountains, and across any number of treacherous landscapes without fail. But Lianan, the will ó wisp, was something else entirely. She was reclusive. Eccentric. As the only surviving will ó wisp, she was exceptionally selective about who she presented herself to, and even then, it was usually her choice and not that of the one seeking her.
“Lir.” Tiernan glanced over his shoulder, addressing his second in command. “What are your thoughts on Casimir and his sudden interest in offering us information to use against Parisa?”
Lir released the railing and turned to face him. Tucking his hands behind his back, he took the position of attention, ready to deliver a report. “Permission to speak freely on the matter, my lord?”
“Always.”
His eyes turned cold, like the frost-covered mountains in Winter. “I’d sooner die than believe a word out of that fucking drakon’s mouth.”
“I thought as much.” Tiernan slid him a questioning look. “Even though he was the one who carried Maeve out from Spring’s dungeon?”
Lir set his jaw, the muscles of his neck rippling in tightly suppressed rage. “It was his fault she was there in the first place.”
This was also true and yet…it was something. Casimir was privy to information they needed, and if he was being truthful, if they could in fact trust him, then Tiernan wanted all the help they could get from him. Especially against Parisa.
Tiernan turned around, leaning his back against the railing, and propped his elbows on the bronze bars. His boot tapped a thumping, restless beat along the cobblestone path. “Do you believe anything he said?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Lir looked to the west, to where in the far distance the Spring Court remained cloaked beneath a secure veil of dark magic. “Thevirdis lepatite.Carman wore one as well, and it gave her immense power. That night Parisa appeared at the Black Lake and fought us with her band of dark fae, I saw her wearing a stone similar in color. Casimir has only confirmed my suspicions.”
Beats of measured silence passed between them. Tiernan met and held the gaze of one of his closest friends. “You do recall how we defeated Carman?”
It was a leading question, and Lir took it in stride, bowing his head. “Of course, my lord.”
“Then you know what must be done.” Tiernan shoved off the railing and started back toward the palace, with Lir not even a step behind him. “Whether it is for Maeve, or Faeven, or both, I am left with no choice. Maghmell is our only option if we hope to survive this war.”
“The High Princess will not approve,” he countered.
“No,” Tiernan agreed quietly. “I fear she will not.”
“You can’t go alone.”
“I can’t leave my Court unprotected either.” Determination powered through him, lifting his will, strengthening his resolve. He was the High King of Summer, and he cowered before no one. Not even death. “I’ve done it before, and I can do it again.”
Venturing to Maghmell was perilous, a treacherous feat no soul should be forced to endure, but he would do whatever was necessary. No risk was too great.
