Page 116 of Crown of Roses
“No.” Maeve threw her hands up. “No, I don’t want to see anyone. Not now. And not for awhile.”
“I’m afraid this one can’t wait.”
“Tiernan, please. I’m not ready, I—”
“You’re going to be fine.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a necklace. Hanging from a thin gold chain was a round amethyst, and a dazzling opal that held the sparkle of a thousand rainbows, all wrapped in golden wire. “This is for you.”
She blanked. The High King of Summer was giving her jewelry?
“Um…” She stepped back. “Thanks, but we’re not on that level yet.”
“That mouth of yours is going to get you into some serious trouble one day.” Tiernan rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Ceridwen charmed the necklace and imbued it with her magic. It will allow us to sense whatever you’re feeling, so long as the feeling is strong, no matter where you are.”
Her brows lifted and Tiernan shook his head.
“Get your mind out of the gutter, Your Highness. I mean fear. Terror. Pain. Rage. Grief. Those kinds of feelings.” He draped it around her neck. “Just take the fucking necklace.”
“Okay.” She pulled her hair to one side. “Fine.”
He fastened the clasp and stepped back. “You’re missing one more thing.”
Maeve groaned. “Now what?”
“A crown.”
“Why do I need a crown?” She crossed her arms. “You don’t wear one.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t have one,” he countered.
She stared up at him. “Well, I don’t have one.”
“Then make one.”
“I don’t know how.”
Now it was Tiernan’s turn to lift his brow. “Is that so? I’ve heard otherwise.”
“I was like five.”
He spread his arms wide. “So?” But then he glanced down at her chest, where the necklace nestled against the curve of her cleavage, and a line formed across his brow. “You’re afraid.”
“I—” She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it abruptly. Apparently, the charmed necklace worked. “I am. Yes.”
Tiernan grabbed her hands and cupped them with his own. She hesitated but he held firm. “You are the High Princess of Autumn. You are the anam ó Danua. You are the life source of all magic, the beginning of its creation. Imagine your crown, and take it.”
Maeve stared down at her hands. She knew what she wanted it to look like, the same as it had been all those years ago when the snow never seemed to stop. Her magic flowed through her, easily and freely, like calling upon an old friend. Every nerve inside her tingled, and she gasped in wonder as roses the color of summer pink and autumn gold blossomed into the shape of a crown. Eternal blooms, she would call them, for they would never wilt. Never die. Golden whorls rose up from the top and took the shape of a crescent moon. In its center sat the sun, flanked on either side by two stars.
Tiernan lifted it from the air and placed it on her head. “Fearless dreamer.”
It was as much of a compliment as she’d ever received from him.
He offered his arm and Maeve accepted. Together they strode through one of the sun-drenched courtyards, passing under swaying palms, and avoiding the spray of water fountains. The Summer Court was exactly the same, except for one distinct difference. The fae they passed no longer laughed at her with mocking eyes or bemused smiles. They’d stopped whispering loud enough for her to hear, talking about the foolish mortal girl who thought she could find the soul of a goddess and save her kingdom. Instead, they bowed and curtseyed the moment they saw her, and mumbled a varying array of titles in which to address her. Their eyes darted between her and Tiernan, like it was some kind of game to see who would look away first.
Tiernan always won.
They rounded a corner and she spotted a balcony filled with gold vases bursting with hibiscus and roses. Out on the balcony, basking in the glorious sunshine, stood Ceridwen. She lifted her hand in a small wave and opened her arms.
Maeve rushed into them.
