Page 14 of Crown of Roses
“Is that what you think I am? A monster?” Rowan grinned, a savage sort of smile.
“Yes. All fae are monsters.” She slid to the other side of the cage and the branches overhead moaned against her sudden movement. She gripped the bars with one hand, while the other slid to her thigh on instinct. Except her sheath was empty. Her blade was gone.
Apprehension coated her skin like ice. Tiny droplets of rain pattered down from the broody sky. They clung to her lashes and slid down the back of her neck. She cringed, and raked one hand through the mess of wet curls stuck to her face.
“Do you know what this is, Princess?” Rowan’s voice carried over to her from the safety of the cliffs.
“Stop calling me that.” She glared at him, until she caught sight of what he held in his hand—her dagger.
He flipped its razor-sharp edge back and forth between his fingers with ease. Never missing. Never hesitating. The iridescent blade sparkled like a thousand rainbows caught by the first glimpse of dawn. “I can’t imagine how someone like you could be in possession of something like this.”
Maeve was sure he meant it as an insult, but she didn’t care. It was her dagger. She was the one who found it buried beneath the silt and sand at the bottom of the hidden lake in the Moors. She was the one whose lungs had almost burst from lack of oxygen to retrieve it. And she would get it back.
He flipped the dagger again, a trick meant to intimidate, and Maeve leapt across the cage. But the wooden floorboards were too slick, and she misjudged the distance. Her arm shot out through the bars, and the tips of her fingers grazed the hilt as it maneuvered around his knuckles. The momentum of her body caused the cage to rock, and it swung violently between the two branches, tossing her to the opposite side. Her head smacked into the bars, and a blaze of stars streaked in front of her eyes. A horrible cracking sound filled her ears as one of the branches snapped, and the cage tilted backwards.
Maeve screamed.
But then Rowan was there, holding the cage steady on the weight of the longest branch, keeping it from toppling off the Cliffs of Morrigan, and taking Maeve with it. If the last branch broke, there would be no saving her.
“This is an Aurastone.” His voice was a lullaby, a balm to the terror that wrecked her and left her shaken. “A rare blade of exceptional power and magic.” Again, his lavender eyes lingered on her mouth before sliding back up to hold her gaze. “Where did you get it?”
She shivered against the velvet of his words, and though her pulse jumped, she wasn’t foolish enough to tell a faerie the truth. “That’s none of your business.”
He answered in a low chuckle, but then went eerily still. Maeve opened her mouth to speak, but he pressed one finger to his lips, and silenced her with the slightest shake of his head. He looked through the tree line, to the uneven path leading back to the castle at the top of the cliffs, before returning his attention to her.
“Do not lose this, Princess. Ever.” Rowan handed the Aurastone to her, and she snatched it from his grasp, quickly tucking it back into the safety of the sheath strapped to her thigh. He pulled his cape around him and walked backward, never taking his eyes off her, until he was swallowed by the mist settling in from off the sea.
Voices sounded from the path. Some she knew, some she didn’t. But within a few minutes, she caught sight of her mother, flanked by guards, with Casimir following from behind.
It was only after Rowan left her, did she realize the birdsong returned, the wind whispered over the cliffs, and the sea once again began to roar.
The rain stopped and all Maeve could hear was the muffled sound of approaching footfalls and the creaking of the branch over her head, as the cage swayed slowly. Back and forth. Barely hanging on.
“Oh good, you’re awake.” Carman wore a gown of slate and layers of black lace clung to the fabric like spider webs. The virdis lepatite glowed at the base of her throat, a murky, dark green color. She waved her fingers through the air dismissively. “Take her down.”
Maeve held her breath as two of the guards reached out for the cage and yanked it back to solid ground. There was never a guarantee they wouldn’t drop her. The last remaining branch creaked in protest, its old arm bent and exhausted from years of misuse. One guard held the cage in place, balanced between the ledge and the frothing ocean below, while another unhinged the lock. The bars swung open, and Maeve toppled out onto the damp ground.
Wet blades of grass slid between her fingers and moss cushioned her cheek like a pillow. She clenched her jaw shut to keep her teeth from chattering and shoved up from the ground, but not before silently saying a prayer to any god or goddess who would listen to her. She thanked them for sparing her from the wrath of the ocean. Maeve stood and scrambled away from the cliffside, but her muscles screamed in agony from being cramped for so long and her legs rioted against her. The toe of her boot stuck in the soggy earth and sent her stumbling face-first. She flung her arms out and braced for impact, but it never came.
A strong hand clamped around her upper arm and hauled her to her feet.
“Easy,” Casimir murmured.
She looked up into his face. His hood was pulled low, so his eyes were hidden from view, but she knew he watched her. His hand slid from her arm to the small of her back where he kept her upright from the tug of exhaustion and the bite of hunger. The press of his palm on her back, and the unintended heat from his body, was almost enough to make her melt. But if he’d taught her one thing, it was to never show weakness, and to always keep her mask of strength in place. So, she pulled herself away from him and stood on her own. She rolled her shoulders back, ignored the ache in her head, and curtseyed before her mother.
Carman swept through the fog swirling at their feet. Her raven hair was piled high on her head, circled into place with her silver crown. Her eyes were lined with kohl and her lips were painted a deep berry shade, making her look every inch the powerful sorceress.
“Maeve. Darling.” She smiled and Maeve fought the urge to seek approval beneath the emptiness in her eyes. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I volunteered you to go to Faeven with the others.”
“Actually.” Maeve lifted her chin and kept her expression schooled into one of feigned confidence. “I was wondering why Roth put me back in the cage.”
“Because I told him to do so.” Carman’s explanation was simple. Caustic. “It was necessary, you see. Faeven is a realm of danger. Of peril. Nothing there is as it seems. You must be prepared for anything, including death.”
Maeve’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand what any of that has to do with the cage.”
Carman’s lips pursed. “Fear will be your enemy, Maeve. You must fear nothing, or you will die.”
“But I’m not afraid of death. I’m not afraid of the dark fae, or any fae.” Maeve took one small step and the guards positioned by her mother’s side reached for their weapons, as if she was a threat. It unleashed a fury within her. So deep, so treacherous, she swore her blood boiled. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
