Page 26 of Crown of Roses
This was more for lounging, a casual pleasure yacht, nothing more. The Amshir pulled away from the Shores and Maeve stayed near the back, watching the only world she’d ever known disappear into the distance.
“Captain!” Saoirse’s voice called to Casimir from the starboard side. “Captain, you’ve got to come see this, there’s a whole wine cellar in here!”
Maeve smiled. Leave it to Saoirse to find the wine, like they were sailing on a relaxing adventure, instead of venturing into the unknown. Alone, she leaned out over the railing and gazed up at the sky streaked with gold, fuchsia, and coral. Dusk would be on them in no time, the air would cool, and the stars would come out to dance.
She felt him before she heard him.
“What do you want, Rowan?” she asked, refusing to take her eyes off the twilight sky for fear of missing any of its beauty.
“Nothing.” He propped his elbows up on the railing beside her. “Just admiring the view.”
Maeve sighed, dreamy and content. “It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?”
“Stunning.”
But when she looked over at him, he was looking at her. A flush crept up Maeve’s neck and bled into her cheeks.
“Stop doing that,” she muttered, frustrated with herself for enjoying his attention.
He leaned in closer, braced his chin on the crook of his elbow. “Doing what?”
“Looking at me like I’m something you want to devour.”
“Maybe I do.”
Maeve shoved away from the railing but he snatched her by the arm and twirled her into him. A low hum started in the back of his throat, and the soft breeze carried the haunting melody past her cheek, and down her neck.
“You’re a fascinating creature,” he murmured.
She twisted out of his hold. “Last time I checked, you said I was a liability.”
“So I did.” He stood where the dying rays of the sun stretched across the deck of the Amshir. Shadows of his cloak moved around them and he angled his head in study. “A sweet, tempting liability.”
Maeve turned around and crossed her arms over the railing, refusing to be distracted by his pretty words and handsome face. “Tell me more about the Dorai,” she said, in an effort to keep him away.
“Alright.”
He came to stand beside her, close, but not too close, and stared up at the sky like he’d never seen it before. In that moment, she realized maybe he hadn’t. If he’d been locked in the dungeon in Kells, the sky would certainly be a treat. There was no telling the last time he’d been able to gaze upon the inky blues and golds of a twilight sky. Maeve inhaled again, took the scent of him into her lungs. Only their even breathing and the brush of the waves along the Amshir broke the silence while she waited for him to speak.
“A long time ago, before the Evernight War, there was peace between the Four Courts. But even when tranquility lingers upon a land, there will still be those who love nothing more than to cause hate and discontent.” Rowan’s voice rose and fell like the tide. Lulling. Calming. He gestured to the expanse beyond the darkening night and cresting sea. “There were fae among us who thought they could be spiteful and vengeful without consequence. Fae who were treasonous to their Court and considered themselves above punishment. But what you must understand, is the High Kings and Queens do not take the decision of banishment lightly. Some choose to enforce it, depending upon the crime, while others do not.”
Maeve looked over at him, at the way the shadows seemed to dance around him like an old friend. “What sorts of crimes?”
His jaw clenched and he blew an errant strand of hair out of his face. It left him on a sigh. “The worst you can imagine. Rape, among the most notable.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. “Aran…did he—”
“No.” Rowan cut her off before she could even finish the thought. “He would never. His crime…was of another kind. One he committed during the Evernight War, during the spread of the darkness.”
“What did he do?” Her voice was low, scarcely a whisper in the night.
He angled his body toward her, and she found she enjoyed the scent of him. The way it mixed with the salt of the sea. “That’s not my story to tell, Princess.”
“Of course.” She fidgeted with the belt of throwing stars wrapped around her waist, knowing he was watching her every move.
“You have the most mesmerizing eyes.” Rowan studied her, like he was committing her to memory. “They remind me of the Lismore Marin when the waters are calm. Sometimes green. Sometimes gray. Always moody, and full of magic.”
The corner of her mouth lifted at the compliment. No one had ever remarked on her appearance before, or even paid her any kind of affection. She knew she should be wary, but it was kind of wonderful to know someone thought she was pretty. He reached out, slowly as to not startle her, and his thumb grazed her cheekbone. Maeve swallowed. But her throat was dry, like she’d spent one thousand days in the desert.
