Page 115 of Void of Endings
“What happened?” Maeve asked as Saoirse plucked the blossom off the plant. “How did the story end?”
“I don’t know.” Saoirse stepped up to her and gently tucked the orchid behind her ear. “I suppose that part has yet to be written.”
Maeve kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Poet.”
Saoirse’s smile was like moonbeams as she bowed and said, “Queen.”
They joined hands, lacing their fingers together. Seconds ticked by, filled with all the things neither of them could say. Saoirse, because she didn’t care for emotions. Maeve, because no words would ever be enough. They’d grown up on the training fields of Kells, side by side. They’d sparred with one another.Bled for one another. If they met their end tomorrow, at least they would go together.
Saoirse squeezed Maeve’s hand firmly, then let her go. And when she walked away, her braid glinting in the fading light of a fire, she didn’t look back.
Maeve stared up at the night sky until the stars faded from view, and a swarm of menacing clouds rolled in.
Tingles of dread trickled down her spine.
The pungent stench of death filled the air.
It wasn’t clouds at all.
It was dark fae.
Chapter Thirty-One
“Tiernan!”
Maeve’s scream pierced Tiernan’s heart, sending a spear of terror straight through him.
He bolted out of the bed with both swords drawn, slashing through the tent to get to her. His blood pumped hard and fast as panic spurned him forward. “Maeve!”
Tiernan drew up short.
There she was, brighter than he’d ever seen her. Arms raised over her head, she gleamed with the brilliance of a thousand stars. Her rose gold tattoos glowed against her skin as the scent of orange blossom and cedarwood saturated the air. Magic seemed to suspend the space between them, lifting her hair from her shoulders so it floated around her like spiraling ribbons of satin. Lines of concentration crinkled across her brow, and she held strong while her shimmering bubble of protection covered the war camp.
Tiernan tracked her fierce gaze.
Hundreds of dark fae snarled and raged against the strength of her protective sphere. They came in droves, in masses. He’dnever seen so many nightmarish creatures all at once. It was as though the whole of the Sluagh had been unleashed upon them.
They attacked from every angle, attempting to claw their way through her magic. Some of them had long, spindly bodies with talon-like claws and empty pits for eyes. Others had elongated jaws with rows of jagged teeth capable of grinding bones to dust. He’d seen some of them before, when Niahvess came under siege months ago, and he’d heard stories about the dark fae who poured from the Scathing in Kells. Though most of those monstrous beings were glamoured mortals at the time of the attack, he doubted they’d been any less terrifying. Now, the dark fae led their assault from the ground, but many of them assailed from the sky. Their tattered wings were just enough to grant them flight, and they cut through the air in sporadic patterns, shrieking and raging. All of them were armed with some kind of weapon—swords, daggers, axes—and each of them was out for blood.
A tiny bead of sweat slid from Maeve’s forehead down to her cheek.
She couldn’t hold them off forever.
Warriors and archers, healers and hunters, rushed through the camp, stumbling over one another to stop and gaze at her. To stare at the terror she kept at bay. Whispers of awe spread through the legion, and murmurs of shock kept them rooted in place. There wasn’t a soul within Maeve’s sphere of protection who wasn’t frozen in wonder and astonishment at the mere sight of her.
“To arms!” Maeve shouted, her voice ripping through the camp, shattering the dazed looks on their faces.
Thunder crashed, a deafening crack that rattled the ground and caused the trees to tremble.
“You heard your queen!” Tiernan bellowed, his magic a torrent of explosive rage. “To arms!”
He stalked over to her as every warrior in the general vicinity rushed to answer Maeve’s call. Brynn moved to the back with the archers. They would need as much distance as possible to fire their arrows. Merrick took to the west with his hunters, for it would be easier for them to meet their mark under the guise of the outlying forest. Lir stood just behind him, the Summer Legion at his back, armed and ready.
Ceridwenfadedin on his other side. She wore her cobalt leathers, their Court’s crest stitched into her left sleeve. A band of jeweled daggers fell across her waist, and each one had been dipped in nightshade. The deadly gleam of the blades was unmistakable. Her long blonde hair was braided into a crown around her head, and she wore no jewelry. She’d lined her eyes heavily with kohl, and the black lines fanned out from the edge of her lashes into fine points. Just as their mother had done during the first battle of the Evernight War.
His twin straightened, her chest heaving. “To the end of the world.”
Tiernan nodded once. “And back again.”
