Page 19 of Void of Endings
As the final cup of coffee was poured, Tiernan sat back and settled into his chair with Maeve by his side. For a moment, all was right in his world.
And then Rowan walked out onto the verandah.
He shoved a hand through his hair, his gaze stealing around the table before landing on Maeve. “Morning.”
Ceridwen scooted her chair over and motioned to him. “Come sit by me, my lord. There’s plenty of room.”
By the look on Merrick’s face, Tiernan wasn’t so sure he agreed.
Maeve leaned over, her voice hushed. “I didn’t realize Rowan was Archfae. I just assumed…I mean, he never mentioned it.”
“It’s not something he speaks of often.” Tiernan took a sip of his coffee. “I don’t blame him, though. If Parisa was my cousin, I wouldn’t want any?—”
“What!” Maeve shrieked, and Tiernan bobbled his cup of coffee. It clattered against the table and sloshed, spilling over the rim. Silence descended all around them, and Maeve’s head swiveled in Rowan’s direction. “Parisa is yourcousin?”
“She is.” Rowan slathered raspberry jam onto his biscuit.
Maeve’s mouth fell open. “You never told me that.”
Rowan looked up, meeting her gaze, his face blank and impassive. “You never asked.”
She snapped her mouth shut.
Tiernan slid his hand under the table and gave her thigh a reassuring squeeze.
“So, wait a minute.” Saoirse pointed a piece of bacon at Rowan, one of her brows lifting in curiosity. “If we kill Parisa, does that mean you become the High King of Spring?”
“That is the way heirs and bloodlines usually work.” Rowan took a bite of his biscuit, chewing thoughtfully. “Though I can’t say I have any interest in ruling over a Crown City.”
“Agreed.” Merrick nodded, reaching for another helping of berries. “Fuck that shit.”
Of course Merrick would agree. If anything ever happened to Ciara, he would be forced to leave Niahvess and return to Ashdara as the rightful heir.
“But what about Suvarese?” Maeve asked, turning her attention back to Rowan. “You can’t just abandon your Court.”
“From what I hear,” Rowan mused, eyeing the biscuit in his hand. “They’ve already chosen a new queen.”
He pinned her with a pointed look.
Tension settled in the air, thick and stifling. Maeve flushed beneath Rowan’s intense gaze. Annoyance coiled around every muscle in Tiernan’s body, tightening until he was ready to snap. Why Rowan felt the need to bring up something likethat, after Maeve had only just gotten her memories back, was beyond him. It was heartless. Cruel.
“That’s something we can discuss later,” Tiernan interjected coldly, drawing the conversation out of the strained silence. “For now, we need to focus on winning this war.”
“You should probably call another meeting,moh Rí.” Lir spoke from the opposite end of the table, his large frame sandwiched between Saoirse and Brynn. “I’m sure High King Dorian would be very much interested in seeing his daughter.”
From beside Tiernan, Maeve’s breath caught. He grabbed her hand, ran his thumbs lightly upon her knuckles. “No. Maeve shouldn’t have to see her father during talks of battle.”
He turned to her, leaning close. “How would you like to go to Kyol tomorrow? For a surprise visit?”
“I’d love that.” She kissed him soundly on the mouth. “And I love you.”
“I love you, too.” He spoke the words into her mind, knowing Rowan was watching.
Maeve glanced around the outdoor space, looking for something. “Where’s Cahira?”
“She’s in the courtyard, living her best life.” Brynn grinned, her eyes flashing from gold to a vivid green. “You know, turning the fountains into ice sculptures and things like that.”
“Maybe after breakfast we can—” Maeve began but was cut off by the sudden shift in the air.
