Page 62 of Void of Endings
Their movements were stilted and convulsive. Even when standing perfectly still, their arms twitched, their heads jerkeduncontrollably. Their eyes were orbs of black, glassy and unblinking.
Just looking at them caused Maeve’s skin to crawl with unease.
But it was Parisa who fared worse than all of them.
Stringy pieces of gray hair fell to her bony shoulders, and her skin was so translucent, Maeve could almost see the muscles and tendons beneath the papery layer of Parisa’s flesh. She donned robes of black, but the heavy velvet did nothing to disguise the frail figure of the fae’s rotting body. Her cheeks were hollow and sharply angled, so sunken, she looked almost skeletal. The crown of onyx spindles she wore was far too heavy for her head, causing her forehead to wrinkle like bulging mounds of excess flesh. Over one eye, the one that Maeve had gouged out at their last battle, was a scrap of black lace.
It fluttered lightly, revealing a crusted scar and a shoddy stitching job oozing with infection.
Maeve grit her teeth against the sight.
Dangling from Parisa’s neck, on a thin chain of gold, was thevirdis lepatite.
The source of her power.
Maeve’s nails bit into the palms of her hands. She would destroy that fucking gemstone. And then she would destroy Parisa.
Parisa sauntered closer, her lips peeling back into an unnatural smile, revealing tiny, pointed teeth. “Such a pleasure to see you again.”
“Really?” Maeve glared up at the vile fae. “I wouldn’t imagine so, considering you’re missing an eye.”
“How kind of you to notice,” Parisa jeered, running her tongue along the sharpened edges of her teeth. “Especially since I’ve come to repay the favor.”
Well, fuck.
Maeve swallowed, but it was like trying to gulp down wet sand. Suffocating. Impossible.
Across from her, Lir surged forward. He wrestled the bars, as though trying to dislocate them from the stone ceiling and floors. Bits of rock and dust tumbled around him, covering him in tiny bits of debris.
“Don’t you dare lay a hand on her!” he roared, his fists clenching around the bars separating them until his knuckles whitened.
Parisa laughed, a rasping cackle. “By all means, please. Try and stop me.”
She pulled a dagger from the folds of her velvet robe. Its blade captured the beauty of the world as it shimmered with vibrant iridescence. In her gangly hand, she held the glow of the dawn.
Maeve’s Aurastone.
Her hand went to her thigh—the sheath was empty.
“No!” Maeve lurched toward Parisa, but the iron collar around her neck yanked her backward like a leash.
Lir was incensed, seething with fury. He bellowed Maeve’s name, thrashing against the iron that bound him. Even in the pale lights, she could see his body tremble with rage. His eyes flared with a kind of wrath she had never witnessed from him.
Parisa tilted her head, her crown sagging. “How strange. The famed Commander of the Summer Legion seems quite possessive of you.”
Maeve’s heart tumbled from her chest, roiled in the acidic pit of her stomach. Cold swept through her, freezing her lungs, turning her blood to ice. All the color drained from her face. She saw it then, the intent, the malicious gleam in Parisa’s eye.
“Leave him alone.” She kept her tone even, though she wanted to rip through the dungeon and tear Parisa’s heart out with her bare hands. “It’s me you want, not him.”
Lir’s ragged breathing filled the warped space.
“Ah, so true. And it’s you I shall have, of course. But his actions speak volumes.” Parisa pressed the tip of the Aurastone into the flesh of her finger, twirling it idly. “How curious…it’s almost as though he’s sworn to protect you.”
Maeve’s breath hitched. Lir’s Strand. The one binding him to save her, no matter the cost. That was why he was wild with panic.
“No!” She gripped the bars, desperate to regain Parisa’s attention. “You want my power. You want revenge onme. I’m the one who gouged your eye out. It’s me, not him!”
Her voice cracked on the last word.
