Page 113 of Void of Endings
Rowan flipped the black blade of the Astralstone between his fingers with ease. “There will be plenty to do tomorrow.”
Her gut seized, and she sat back, blowing out a rough breath. “Are you nervous?”
His lavender gaze slid to hers, one brow arched in question. “Are you?”
“Yes.” Maeve blurted out the raw, honest answer before she could think better of it. “I never thought—that is, I never imagined…”
“That you’d be on the brink of war in a faerie realm?” he suggested.
“Exactly.” She stretched out her hands towards the flames of the fire, coaxing them to life. To burn brighter. All in the false hope that the warmth they offered would erase the permanent coldness running through her veins. “In Kells, I always assumed I would be leading battles against other kingdoms.”
She shrugged, dismissive. “I figured I would die there.”
Images of the Moors drifted through her mind, of its enchanting trees, and a secluded pool of crystalline water. Of flowers and beauty. That place she’d once called home. She’d saved it, but not before Parisa had attempted to destroy it with the Scathing. With thevirdis lepatitehanging around her neck, the dark magic she possessed seemed endless. Already Maeve had witnessed what she was capable of, but she wasn’t foolishenough to think that there wasn’t more danger and devastation lurking behind those decrepit palace walls.
An icy shudder pricked along her spine.
“I’m afraid,” she whispered.
Rowan shifted, facing her, a swath of teal hair covering one eye. “Of death?”
“Yes. But I don’t fear dying.” That was something she’d been taught to expect at a young age. In fact, not so long ago, she would’ve welcomed death like an old friend. The irony was not lost on her that she was in Aed’s good favor. “I fear the death of those I…love.”
Again, he fell silent.
She wished he would say something, anything. Even if it was smug or brash. At least then, his cocksure comments would help distract her from the burdening weight of guilt harboring in her conscience. “I can’t save everyone.”
The truth of it was like taking a nightshade blade to the heart.
“Nor should you, that’s not your purpose.” Rowan sheathed the Astralstone, sliding it into a swell of shadows. “You are meant to save thisland.”
He reached down, digging his fingers into the earth. Gathering a clump of the damp soil, he turned, grabbed her wrist, and placed it in her hand. One by one, he closed her fingers over it.
“The Four Courts live and breathe because of you. Even when you were in Kells, Faeven sustained because you lived. Magic exists here because of you.” He stood, wiping his hands off on his pants. “You are a creator of worlds, Maeve. When this is over, and the smoke clears, and if there is nothing left, then you will breathe life into this world once more. Becausethatis your purpose. If not, then the sacrifice we made all those thousands of years before will be in vain.”
He was speaking of their souls, of the Dawnbringer and the Nightweaver.
Maeve shook her head. “I can’t create a new world if I’m not alive, Rowan.”
The corner of his mouth tugged into an all too familiar smirk. “You won’t die.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I won’t let you.” With that, Rowan walked away.
Maeve watched him go as he vanished into the shadows, like he’d never been there at all.
She gazed into the fire, watching the flames spark and dance up into the darkness pressing in on her. Part of her wished she could believe Rowan, that she could trust he’d hold true to his word. But he’d abandoned her before, and she wouldn’t be surprised if he did so again.
Not that she was relying on him to keep her alive.
For that, she would rely only on herself.
“My lady.” Lir approached her and bowed. The cobalt and gold of his armor glinted like the deepest part of the sea and incandescent beams of sunlight.
Maeve stood, dusted off her hands, and faced the commander. “What is it, Lir?”
“Your brother, Aran, sends word.” He straightened, tucking his hands behind his back. “The Autumn Legion is in place. High Queen Ciara has taken the mountains.”
