Page 90 of Realm of Nightmares
Though perhaps having the extra company wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Cahira was hardly a pup, maybe in mindset but not so much in size. She’d grown quickly, and already her fledgling features were taking on those of a maturefaolan.
As if in protest, Cahira loosed a howling yelp.
“Shh!” Maeve held her breath while simultaneously ruffling the scruff at the back of Cahira’s neck. No sounds echoed outside of her door. There were no distinctive footfalls thudding down the corridor and no sign of anyone approaching. All remained silent.
Expelling a breath, Maeve stood and dressed. The chill of winter clung to the air, so she layered her tops, opting for fur-lined leggings and a cape to keep her warm. She pulled the hood up over her head, then grabbed her Aurastone and strapped it to her thigh. Her sword of sunlight was propped in the far corner of the room, unused since her arrival in the Ether. Not by choice, but the weapon was a glowing signal for the wrong kind of attention, especially in a world cast in hues of gray, silver, and black.
For this trip, a regular sword would have to suffice.
She supposed there was probably an entire arsenal of weapons located somewhere within the House of Death, and if she’d given it more thought, she would’ve requested that Laurel take her there as well. Instead, she grabbed the sword she used during training against Rowan. It wasn’t elegant by any means, but it was more reliable than her magic, and the blade never missed its mark. At least not when she was wielding it.
The hilt was bronze and capped with an onyx stone; the blade itself was a sleek silver, wide and curved.
Maeve sheathed it at her side, tightening the band of leather around her waist.
She packed light, aiming to carry as little as possible. Laurel had drawn up a map and given it to her, along with an excessive list of warnings, then wished her luck. Maeve folded up the map and tucked it safely into her back pocket, her gaze stealing away to the rain tapping against the window of her bedroom.
The sun wouldn’t be up for another hour or so, and a thin fog blotted out the faint silver glow of the moon. If she moved quickly, she could make it to the Stygian Spine before dawn.
Slinking out into the hall, Maeve cast one look behind her and whispered, “Stay.”
Cahira sat, obedient, her fluffy tail flouncing back and forth.
Maeve followed the length of the hall, taking each corner with caution and stealth. Her footfalls were featherlight, so not even the click of her boots could be heard against the polished stone floor. She crept toward the doors that led to the training courtyard, clinging to every shadow, avoiding every flicker of light. Counting each moment, she timed her breathing, ensuring she was never panting or out of breath. When the harsh voices of two guards sounded in her ears, she melded into the darkness, becoming one with the night. They strode past without even glancing over to where she was crouched down beneath a twisting archway, one hand pressed against the cool floor while the other hovered over the hilt of her Aurastone.
Gradually, their low murmurs faded into nothing, like the final chord of a refrain, and she made her move for the door.She shoved it open slowly, grateful when it didn’t groan in protest, and escaped into the courtyard.
Outside, the world was silent save for the gentle tinkling sound of light rainfall. It misted across the coarse stone pavement of the training grounds, enveloping the field beyond, and shrouding the mountains so not even their jagged peaks could be seen. Her breath steamed before her in a curl of white heat against the cold air that nipped at her cheeks. She dipped her head, pulling her cloak snug around her shoulders and adjusting the hood to keep most of her face hidden from view. One step after another she moved like a wraith, clandestine and composed, west toward the Stygian Spine.
Through the veil of thinning fog, she caught sight of the building where themabvstaliswere kept. Looming in the distance stood the impossibly tall trees that carved the skyline like the claws of undead creatures reaching up through the earth. A dull, pulsing sound throbbed in her ears until shivers coursed through her body—the beating heart of the forest.
Something sparked overhead, stealing her focus, and she glanced up to see a fiery object blazing across the darkened sky. A shooting star streaked through the misty clouds, causing the droplets of rain to shimmer like diamonds. It disappeared behind the House of Death, then without warning, the entire sky ignited in a flare of sunlight, illuminating all of the Ether and beyond. The sun had fallen from the heavens.
Whatever it was called to Maeve. Beckoned her. Summoned her. The sensation gripped her like a tug on her heart, calling her back. Demanding she abandon her journey to Diamarvh.
But she was too close to quit now. Lives were at stake, including the lives of those she loved.
Maeve pushed forward, running. Her legs fired her across the field, sprinting toward the Spine. Even as she approached the outlying edge of the forest, she ignored the pull, despite the ice-cold fear seizing her gut. It stopped her in her tracks, kept her rooted to the ground, unable to move. Dread coiled around her and every nerve, every alarm inside of her screamed in warning. This place was perilous. Foreboding and ominous. She should turn back, run the other direction, return to the safety of the House of Death.
She twisted the fur of her cloak, running the thick fabric back and forth between her fingers.
There were no other options.
Shehadto go into the Stygian Spine and face whatever horrors lurked within its ancient depths. The weight of her realm, of her world, rested upon her shoulders.
I will not yield. I will not break.
Maeve had faced terror before and she could do so again. She was blessed with the soul of the goddess Danua. The titles she carried were woven into the stars, a claim of her birthright, and she wore them like a crown.
Warrior, first.
Queen, second.
She was a fucking fae and she would not be afraid. Not of this forest, not of the destiny awaiting her, not of death.
A distant memory drifted through her mind, accompanied by the lulling baritone of a male voice she knew in her heart. In her soul.
“You show mercy to no one.”
