Page 82 of Crown of Roses
Rowan’s mouth fell open, and Tiernan reared back like she’d slapped him.
“You what?” he asked.
“When?” Rowan demanded.
“Before…” Her gaze betrayed her and she looked up at Tiernan. “Right before you found me. The second time.”
Rowan was by her side in an instant. He took her hand and held it close to his heart—so close, she could feel the steady beat of it. “What did she say?”
“She said the anam ó Danua couldn’t save Kells. The only way to rid my kingdom of the Scathing is to kill Parisa.” It physically ached to say it, to even admit it out loud.
Rowan paled.
“That doesn’t make sense. The anam ó Danua is strong enough. It has to be.” He shook his head, and his teal hair fell across his forehead. “Did the will ó wisp say why?”
“Yes.” Maeve shifted and angled herself away from him, then pulled her hand from his hold. “The Scathing is dark magic. Not dark fae. Killing Parisa is the only way to stop it.”
His shoulders dropped and he ducked his head, shielding his face from view. “That won’t be easy.”
“No,” she agreed. “It won’t.”
Her own power rose up then. Not her fae-cursed blood or the warrior lifestyle Casimir had instilled in her. No, this was different. This was her own worth. Her own purpose. “And I’m done standing by, listening to two faeries whose only devotion is to their own Courts. My loyalty is to Kells. Not to Faeven.”
Maeve stepped away from Rowan, putting distance between them. She met his confused gaze and though it hurt, she didn’t look away. “I will stop at nothing to save my people.”
He moved closer to her. Just a step. But uncertainty clouded his features, and when he reached for her again, it took every ounce of her willpower to avoid his hold. She couldn’t be swayed. Not by his kisses. Not by his promises. Not by him.
“Maeve,” he pleaded, and something in her heart cracked. “I told you I was going to help.”
“Yes, I know.” She swallowed down the bubble of sorrow beginning to build. “But so far, you haven’t.”
“It takes time, Princess.”
She shook her head, willing herself not to listen. Not to be bribed. “I don’t have time, Rowan. My kingdom is under attack. My home is dying. I can’t wait. The longer I’m here, the longer I do nothing, the faster my world will fall.”
Silence occupied the space between them, strained and heavy.
Her shoulders rolled back and she stole a glance at the High King of Summer, the one who stood by quietly without scorning or shaming. And she held out her hand. Tiernan grasped the tips of her fingers and brought her to his side.
“Maeve.” Her name falling from Rowan’s lips was scarcely a whisper. But it was sharp enough to shred through her soul.
She lowered her chin and dipped her head, refusing to look at either one of them. “My lord, I wish to return to Niahvess. I need to come up with a plan to kill Parisa, the High Queen of the Spring Court.”
Tiernan bowed, just slightly. “As you wish, Your Highness.”
It was pure torture, but Maeve lifted her eyes just enough to find Rowan. To memorize everything about him. His handsome features. His beautiful lavender eyes. The way she often made the corner of his mouth quirk. “If indeed your loyalty is to the Spring Court, always, then I shall see you there.”
It was a promise. One they both knew she would keep.
Tiernan’s grip on her tightened, thunder cracked around them, and in a splinter of lightning, they faded back to the Summer Court.
The glorious warmth of Summer and dawn cocooned Maeve like a blanket. She stood in her bedroom, muddy, covered in bits of leaves, with damp hair that frizzed like a pillow of moss. She peeled her mask off her face and Rowan’s glamour fell away. Tiernan, on the other hand, stood her opposite, in his usual attire of a crisp shirt with an unbuttoned collar, and pants. He watched her carefully, with his hands tucked in his pockets, like if he moved, she might break.
She didn’t care if he watched; it was nothing he hadn’t seen before. She stripped out of what remained of her clothing and stalked into the bathroom. She grabbed a washcloth, used the delicate scented soap to scrub the grime from her body, then washed the lake water muck from her hair in the sink. When she reemerged, Tiernan was still there, her night shirt in his hands. He didn’t seem at all phased by the fact that she was, yet again, naked in front of him, so she accepted the shirt and tugged it on over her head.
“What?” she asked, annoyed by his calm demeanor. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
He leaned against her wardrobe and watched with interest when she checked to ensure her Aurastone was back under her pillow. Next time she wouldn’t be glamoured without it. He inclined his head. “Do you have a plan?”
