Page 66 of Crown of Roses
Another thing to consider, Maeve realized, when Casimir drove the unspoken point home. Traveling through Faeven would take time. Energy. Supplies. All of which was dwindling. They came prepared for a week’s worth of travel, and already, two had passed. Were it not for Tiernan’s generosity when it came to food and clothing, they would have nothing.
Maeve grabbed a pen and a blank piece of paper. “I’ll ask the High King for some provisions.” It was the least he could do.
“What makes you so sure he’ll give us anything?” Casimir leaned back from the table, his face a mask of subdued fury. “He owes us nothing. He could turn us out at any moment.”
“But he hasn’t.” Maeve didn’t want to argue; they were supposed to be working together. But lack of progress and Rowan’s abandonment left a damp mood festering between them.
“Any why is that, Your Highness?” Casimir didn’t yell, but his voice was cold. “Did you ever stop to wonder why an Archfae would so graciously agree to keep three mortals within his walls? Under the careful watch of his henchmen?”
Maeve opened her mouth, then quickly closed it. She hadn’t. She hadn’t thought about why Tiernan continued to let them stay, even after Rowan was sent back to his Court. “There has to be a reason.”
“Yes, and I bet it has nothing to do with helping us find the lost soul of a goddess.”
Saoirse’s head whipped toward Casimir. “What are you suggesting?”
“Look at us.” He gestured around the table. “A princess and two esteemed warriors from one of the human kingdoms.”
Maeve’s heart sank with dread.
Casimir leaned forward. “Do you really think he intends to just let us waltz out of his Court any time we please?”
“Of course he would,” said an airy, feminine voice from behind them.
All three of them turned to see Ceridwen standing by the table, though no one had heard her approach. She smiled softly, and her golden waves cascaded around her like sunlight. “You may leave whenever you like.”
“But?” Casimir prompted.
“But I would wait.”
“Wait? There is no time to wait, my lady.” Casimir was fuming. “I’ve seen what Parisa can do, what she does to fae who don’t bend to her will. Can you imagine what she’d do to a human? I’ve witnessed her spell another fae, so that for every word the female spoke, for every cry and scream, a vine twisted and grew inside her. Until she was nothing more than a rotting stump with flesh wrapped around it.”
Ceridwen paled.
Saoirse winced.
Maeve’s jaw clenched but she couldn’t speak. She didn’t dare open her mouth. Not now. What a terrible, gruesome way to die. Maeve would be full of the same wrath if she’d witness something so atrocious happen to another soul. She blinked away the images of Casimir and Saoirse suffering such a fate.
When Ceridwen spoke, her voice was lush and lulling, like a song. “Your time for vengeance is coming. But it is not now.”
“And how do you know?” Casimir stood and planted both of his hands on the table. “Why should we believe you? You’re just like the rest of them, are you not? What makes you so different?”
Something like hurt flashed across Ceridwen’s face, but it was swallowed quickly by remorse. “I see things. Visions.”
“Visions,” Saoirse murmured, her complexion deathly pale. “What, like premonitions?”
Ceridwen lifted one elegant shoulder, then let it fall. “Of a sort.”
Casimir’s body stiffened. “What does that mean?”
“Did you see us coming here?” Maeve asked, overriding his irritation with a question of her own.
Ceridwen’s ruby lips pursed. “I saw some things, yes.”
“Why so vague, High Princess?” Casimir studied her, much like one would an opponent. Calculating. Cautious. “If we are allowed to come and go as we please, then we must be allies. And there are no secrets among allies, am I right?”
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “My visions are my own until an opportunity arises to share them.”
Casimir scowled. “You mean until you get something in return.”
