Page 17 of Crown of Roses
She headed through the courtyard to the gates, where Casimir was readying the horses and securing their packs for the journey. She wasn’t even sure if Faeven was accessible by horse, but she figured they’d find out soon enough. Rowan stood against one of the stone archways, one ankle crossed over the other, watching her walk in his direction. Her gaze instantly dropped to his chest. He wore another tattered shirt, but this one disguised his scars. As far as she could tell, he didn’t appear to be bleeding anymore. But it made her curious as to who inflicted those awful wounds. Not that she should care. At all.
But she would bet anything it was Carman’s doing.
“Maeve!”
She barely had time to react before Saoirse threw herself at her. She wrapped Maeve into her arms and squeezed. Maeve dropped her pack and welcomed her best friend’s strong embrace. Saoirse pulled away, but held onto both of her arms. Her eyes scanned Maeve’s body, searching for cuts or bruises. They were healing thanks to her blood curse, and mostly hidden beneath her blouse, but she was grateful for her friend’s concern.
“Are you alright?” She slid her hands to Maeve’s shoulders, then cupped her cheeks. “Casimir told me your mother put you back in the cage. I couldn’t find you anywhere. I didn’t think she’d…it never even occurred to me she would—”
“It’s okay.” The lie came easily, like a blade slicing through skin. “It was nothing.”
“Don’t tell me it was nothing.” Saoirse glanced over to where Casimir stood, staring to the west, beyond Kells, to the Moors. “I can see it all over your face, Maeve. What happened?”
She didn’t want to relive it. She didn’t want to tell Saoirse how utterly terrified she’d been when Carman used her power against her, when she suspended Maeve in the air, then sent her plunging into the sea. She didn’t want to explain the fear. The panic. The realization that Carman wished to see her dead.
“I’ll tell you about it later.” But she secretly hoped her friend would forget.
“I’m not going to let you off that easily,” Saoirse warned.
“I know.” Maeve placed her hands on top of Saoirse’s. “Trust me, I know. But we have more important things to deal with right now.”
Like venturing to a foreign realm, through unfamiliar lands, in search of someone who may not even be there.
“Alright, listen up.” Casimir motioned for them to come closer. The warm breeze whistled through the towering trees lining the path away from the castle. He pulled his hood down. “We’re going to head west out of Kells toward the Moors, and that’s less than a day’s trek. From there, we’ll cut north through the Fieann Forest.”
“You make it sound so easy,” Rowan mused, and his black cape moved around him like the shadows of night.
Casimir cut him down with a hard glare. “Because it is.”
Rowan shrugged and shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants.
“From there, we’ll reach the Shores.” Casimir glanced up at the sky, then back to their group. “Now, the Shores is neutral territory, and they aren’t ruled by human or fae. So, this is where we’ll make our crossing.”
“How do we cross into Faeven?” Saoirse asked. “Our realms are separated by a sea of magic. I’ve heard rumors of people who have tried to enter into Faeven, but none of them have been successful.”
Rowan lifted one finger into the air. “That’s where I come in.”
Maeve crossed her arms, already annoyed by his haughty expression. “And why should we trust anything that comes out of your mouth?”
Rowan’s mouth curved into a vicious smile. He rolled up the sleeves of his worn shirt and Maeve caught sight of the cuffs bound to his wrists. They were plain silver, but eerily similar to her own. “What other choice do you have?”
“The faerie is right.” Casimir silenced any objection with a look. “We have no other choice, and we will need his assistance to help negotiate a crossing.”
“Negotiate?” The idea of negotiating anything with the fae left Maeve unsettled. Owing a debt to a faerie was never a good thing. Ever. “What do you mean, negotiate?”
“Everything comes with a price, Princess.” Rowan sidled closer but Maeve held her ground.
“How do we negotiate a crossing?” Saoirse drew his attention to her. “What sort of things should we be prepared for?”
“Anything.” Rowan lifted both of his hands. “Everything.”
Maeve couldn’t stand his flippancy. It infuriated her, left her seething, and made her want to…stab something.
“Enough of your riddles, Rowan.” She spun around and closed the distance between him, ignoring the way his eyes briefly flashed with amusement before sobering. “Tell us what to expect, otherwise I will ensure that you’re the first one to die.”
“Ouch.” He clamped a hand over his heart then stole a glance at Casimir, who looked like he was about to combust in rage. “Is she always this feisty?”
Casimir dipped his head and when he spoke, his voice was low and deep with tempered fury. “Don’t ever speak ill of Princess Maeve in my presence.”
