Page 48 of Crown of Roses
“What?” Maeve clamped a hand over her mouth. “And they let him?”
“It was a good trade, but not enough to make amends for the slaying of Brigid.” Lir tore off a piece of the bread and popped it into his mouth. “Danua graced this realm once more, except this time she came with Aed.”
Aed, the god of death, of the Ether. The realm of the in-between. Just speaking his name was enough to cause Maeve to freeze and fear to slide into her heart.
“Danua removed the soul, ensuring the blessing would cease to exist within Spring. And Aed ripped her magic from her.” Ceridwen didn’t seem too upset by this. “So now she is a fae with no magical abilities. She has to suffer an eternal life of nothingness.”
“Unless she is slain,” Lir countered.
Ceridwen’s smile illuminated her face. “Unless she is slain.”
A restless trickle of unease slithered down Maeve’s spine. She shifted in her seat as this new information continued to shock her, to leave her reeling. She forced herself to take a breath. And then another. The food she’d eaten suddenly felt sour in her stomach. She had no idea the god Aed and the goddess Danua were capable of such power, of tearing magic from a being. It sounded absolutely terrifying, but what was worse is it meant the anam ó Danua was lost. If Danua retracted the blessing, there may not be any way to get it back, which meant Kells would not survive The Scathing. All of the kingdoms within the human lands would fall.
“This daughter.” Maeve took a large drink of lemon water to cleanse her parched throat and swallowed down the disquiet bubbling against her calm exterior. “Is she who I think she is?”
“She is the same one you seek to destroy.” Ceridwen sat back in her seat, sipped her coffee, and eyed Maeve from over the steaming rim. “Parisa, of the Spring Court.”
Chapter Sixteen
As promised, after breakfast Lir stood watch while Maeve aimlessly browsed the mountains of books in the Summer Court’s library. For the most part, she, Casimir, and Saoirse had been given free rein of the palace, so long as one of Tiernan’s lackeys followed them around. It seemed silly, really. None of them were any match for a fae. Well, except for Casimir. He was soulless, and probably was the reason they still had babysitters and were deemed untrustworthy from the start. Because even though Maeve was quick with a blade, she posed no real threat to a faerie, much less an Archfae.
So she made Lir’s job easy, and sat at a table with her collection of books. Some she’d already skimmed, others she read in their entirety, and then there was Aran’s—the one she kept returning to every time.
His collection of fairytales, of stories detailing the curious types of solitary fae with obscure sorts of magic, continued to captivate her. In his book, there were no dark fae. Every being listed was by name only, and some of them did not even exist in Faeven. This had been her most recent, and most startling discovery. There were other worlds where faeries lived and thrived, other realms she didn’t even realize existed. Perhaps the soul of the goddess Danua had been transferred somehow, moved to another realm, and graced another fae bloodline.
If that was the case, it would make her current situation much more of a burden.
They couldn’t come to Faeven and not accomplish anything. If nothing else, she vowed to exact her revenge. Since Parisa just so happened to also be the last being in possession of the anam ó Danua, it made sense for them to go to the Spring Court. Best case scenario, they could unearth what happened to the goddess’s soul once it was stripped from Parisa, and she would have her vengeance. Worst case scenario, they would all die.
Unless…unless they chose the route Ceridwen expressly forbade.
“Lir?” Maeve flipped through Aran’s book, thoroughly not expecting an answer. “At breakfast, you and Brynn were discussing a way to get into the Spring Court undetected—and also be able to escape…”
She glanced up to find Lir’s gaze focused on her. He stood with his large body propped up against a bookshelf and his arms crossed. The look on his face told her she was going to have to fight for every word.
“There is another way,” Maeve paused for dramatic effect. “Isn’t there?”
He gave a barely audible grunt. “It’s not up for discussion.”
“But—”
“But Ceridwen said no, and to me, that’s a direct order from my High Princess.” His jaw was set. “One I don’t plan on disobeying.”
“What if you give me a hint?” Maeve offered her best impression of a simpering smile.
Lir scowled in disgust. “Don’t pull that shit on me, Your Highness. You’re better than that.”
Damn. Already he knew her so well. Maeve stared down at her books. She saw the words, but she wasn’t reading them. She tried again. “Please?”
“No.”
“Let me ask you this, then.” Maeve stood and faced him. “What would you do if you were me? What would you do if the only way to save your kingdom, to save your people, was to go on some ludicrous trek through a realm of terror in the hopes you could find the key to saving all of them? Would you do it?” she asked, daring him to deny her. “Or would you do nothing?”
For the first time since she’d met him, Lir looked uncomfortable in his skin. Uncertainty warred with loyalty, and the two stretched across his forehead in a frown. He mumbled something under his breath.
“What?”
“The will o’ wisp.” The words were hardly a murmur from between his lips, but then he shifted and looked away, like he’d said nothing at all.
