Page 36 of Crown of Roses
She swallowed down the sudden lump of panic in the back of her throat, and forced herself to take a steadying breath. To remain calm. Her gaze hooked onto the towering mountains, the rows of colorful buildings shoved together, forming a city full of life. “I will not leave without it. If I fail, my kingdom will fall, and I won’t let the death of innocent souls smear my hands.”
“You should know, there is one who has fallen from the grace of the goddess. She should be banished, like me. But she managed to remain in Faeven. She’s found a way to control the dark fae. To bend them to her will.” He paused and a pained look pulled his expression tight. “Creatures that only existed in nightmares, in legends of the past before even the Evernight War, now exist. And they’re a very real danger.”
“To you?” A chill raked over her, the warmth suddenly stolen by the memory of the Hagla in the Fieann Forest. The one who dragged her back to the memory of that wretched cage on those damned cliffs.
“To all of us.” Aran patted her hand. “Neither human nor fae…nor you, are exempt from the wrath of dark fae. The only ones who are, are the soulless.”
She glanced back down behind her to where his boat rocked gently upon the foaming waves. Casimir watched her, Saoirse watched him. And Rowan, his glare could cut her skin. He looked ready to take off Aran’s head. She peered up at the fae in question. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Nothing is as it seems.” Aran studied her and the wind picked up, slashed across them both. “Sometimes the mind taints what the heart knows to be true.”
“So, you think I should trust you?”
He laughed and it was the most rapturous sound. Pure and joyous. “Of course not.” He grinned and leaned in close, enough so that the glaring daggers Rowan shot their way pierced her neck and back. “Just something to consider as you make your way.”
Then he swept into a low bow. “This is where I leave you, Maeve. Don’t forget, I’ll call upon one of you for a favor.”
He left her on the stone steps and returned to his vessel, where his banner of charred orange and the strange black creature unfurled and whipped in the now merciless breeze. There was a chill in the air, cooler than before but not cold. The sun disappeared behind a blanket of clouds and the waves threw themselves upon the sandstone staircase. Even the warrior fae crafted from fine quartz and marble seemed to kneel to whatever storm was coming. The harbor of Niahvess was no longer as lovely or welcoming. Saoirse climbed the steps toward her, with Casimir and Rowan not far behind. But something was missing…Maeve couldn’t shake the feeling she was forgetting something.
She rushed down the steps past them, toward Aran’s boat.
Her boots slid along the damp stones and she threw her arms out, fighting with the air for balance.
“Wait!” The wind swallowed her call to him. “Aran! How will we find you once we’re ready to return home?”
He gave another knowing, smirking smile, and her heart sank. “We only agreed I deliver you to Faeven, dear Maeve. Not return you to the Shores.”
“Bastard,” Saoirse hissed, and she dragged her silvery blonde braid over her shoulder.
Aran had told them not to trust him.
Casimir’s scowl cut across his mouth.
Summer roiled. The sky overhead turned an angry shade of gray, and menacing clouds rolled in from the steep mountain peaks, where two of them rose like twin protectors. Mist blanketed the harbor and stole the sun. Goosebumps broke out along Maeve’s flesh as the once gentle breeze now whipped around them, sprayed them with the salt of the sea. It clung to her lips, the briny tang of it all too reminiscent of the cage above the cliffs. Maeve shuddered, wrapped her arms tightly around herself, and shook off the vengeful memory. Drops of rain pelted down; the storm of summer was now upon them.
A blur of teal and black shot past her.
Suddenly Rowan was further down the stairwell. Waves crashed at his feet, soaked his cape of shadows. He stood firm, fists clenched by his sides while the wind tossed his hair across his face.
“You called him to us?” Accusation lit his tone and the world shimmered once more.
“Called who?” Casimir asked, his sword already drawn.
Maeve tossed a reckless glance over her shoulder. On the verandah, Saoirse’s daggers were drawn, her hawklike gaze trained on the skies.
“Aran!” Fury infused Maeve. Scoured her. Carved her. But the sea shoved her back. Its crashing waves lashed at her feet, forced her further up the stone steps. “You said we’d be safe! That the Summer Court was accepting of mortals!”
Aran’s lips pressed into a thin smile of disappointment, a look she knew too well. It was the same one her mother always gave her whenever Maeve should have known the answer, or should have performed better, or should have killed without remorse. “I said they were tolerant.”
Maeve rushed forward and yanked Rowan’s arm, pulling him back to her. The rising, seething sea was now to their knees. His arm quickly slipped around her waist, and together they climbed back up the steps to the safety of the verandah.
“What’s happening?” Maeve’s heart thundered, and her blood roared as adrenaline caused her awareness to pulse. “What did he do?”
Rowan sighed, but drew no weapon. “Aran is a Dorai, remember? He’s been banished from Faeven. They are not allowed to return, no matter the circumstances.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and shoved his hair back from his eyes. “When Aran stepped onto the stone of the verandah, he summoned Niahvess’s Archfae. The High King of Summer.”
“Let me guess.” Casimir admired the svelte edge of his sword and ran his tongue along his teeth. “This High King is on his way to us right now.”
Rowan nodded.
