Page 80 of Crown of Roses
“A secret,” she urged.
Maeve locked her spine into place. Saying it out loud would seal it as a truth. It would taint her soul. It would mark her. But she would do it. She would do anything for Kells. “When I return to my kingdom, to Kells, I will kill my mother. My people are better without her. I am better without her. And I will take what is rightfully mine. I will take my crown.”
“Ooh!” Lianan squealed and bounced off of the hollow log. “How utterly delightful.” She floated close, lit by moonlight and stars. “The only way to save your kingdom…is by destroying the magic source of the Scathing.”
The magic source.
Parisa.
She had to destroy Parisa. She’d been the key to undoing The Scathing all along. The brutal High Queen of the Spring Court. The one who’d murdered her own mother because she craved more power, more magic. Rowan was wrong. So wrong. The anam ó Danua was nothing. It was useless. Parisa was the one. She’d always been the one.
“I have to go.” Maeve glanced down at the faerie lights dancing around her ankles. “Will you release me?”
Lianan stuck out her bottom lip. “So soon?”
Maeve lifted her chin. “I’ll see you again.”
A small, almost friendly smile. “Lianan knows.”
The will ó wisp swirled, taking the form of a gloriously jeweled bird with dazzling feathers and sapphires for eyes. Then she vanished in a shock of purple light, leaving Maeve alone in the dark autumn woods. The scent of cedarwood and orange blossom lingered in the air, and she looked down at the Strand wrapping around her thumb. It glittered like starlight.
Again, Maeve was running through the woods. But this time it wasn’t fear that pushed her forward, back toward the feral celebration of the Autumn Ceilie, but revelation. Lianan had gifted her knowledge. And with it came a glimmer of hope she thought was lost forever. A glimpse of ambition. The possibility of a plan. She veered onto the darkened path, ignoring the way her shredded skirt snagged on every fallen branch and twig. She didn’t care if there was mud caked to the side of her face or if leaves were tangled in her hair. All she cared about was getting back to the Summer Court. Back to Niahvess. There, she and Casimir could form a plan. There, they could find a way to take out the High Queen of Spring.
Music sounded all around her, louder and louder. It seemed the party had grown since she’d run away from Garvan and Shay. Plumes of smoke curled into the air, and the sparks from multiple bonfires shot high into the sky, crackling and bursting with orange flames. Drums and flutes echoed in her ears, in a melody she didn’t recognize, and when she finally burst through a bramble bush, she was in awe of the sight before her. No longer was it an exhibition of sexual exploits. Now, it was a full-blown revelry. Fae danced and twirled, their smiles wide, their eyes bright. They sang, they laughed, and they moved with the rhythm filling the air, their bodies naturally in tune with the music carrying them.
A hand fell upon Maeve’s shoulder and she looked up to find a female fae frowning down at her. She was lovely. Brilliant and beautiful. Pale, creamy skin. Fox-like eyes. And hair that was a burnished gold, then bright red at the tips. Two huge rubies studded her ears. But when she looked at Maeve, her nose wrinkled in distaste.
“Ooh, what happened to you?” The fae stared at her skirts, then looked back up at her face. “You’re filthy.”
Maeve gave her best attempt at a lighthearted shrug. “I tripped.”
“Happens to the best of us.” The fae laughed, and Maeve had never heard such a sweet sound. “Lucky for you, we don’t judge here. At least, not always.”
Before Maeve could respond, the faerie winked and held up a thin red stick that glowed at the tip. Then she blew, and Maeve was encompassed in a cloud of pink smoke. It smelled of crushed leaves, sandalwood, and something else. Patchouli. Or…or…
The faerie appeared blurry, like a painting. Like she was made of watercolors. Maeve could see her, but she couldn’t exactly focus on her.
“What’s…” Her mind wouldn’t work. She knew what she wanted to say, but she couldn’t get the words out. Tingles cruised along her skin, her muscles softened, and her entire body was warm. Warnings tried to fire inside her brain, tried to send jolts to her system to remind her of something, to tell her this was wrong. But the beating drum sank deep into her bones, and when the female faerie looked over at her, Maeve smiled.
“Come on!” She grabbed Maeve’s hand and led her toward one of the bonfires. “Let’s dance!”
Maeve couldn’t help it. Her mind was barely rational with thought and part of her wanted to object, but her insides were alive with a kind of electric energy. She was reckless and an uninhibited desire to move swept her up with other fae cavorting around the fire. The rhythm took over and suddenly, she was flowing freely. There was no one there to tell her what to do, or to warn her away from the possibilities of danger. All she wanted was to dance. To live, breathe, and dance. She spun and twirled, her legs light, her arms carefree. It was like walking on a cloud, like moving through water. She was fluid. Weightless. Magic enveloped her, wrapped around her like midnight velvet. It sang through her veins, euphoric and passionate. Maeve tossed her head back as the enchantment caused her hips to sway and her body to reverberate with the cadence singing in and around her.
She whipped around, and around, and slammed right into a wall. A strong hand clamped down on her elbow. Not a wall, then. She looked up into a set of raging eyes, so dark, they were furious like a storm. She knew that face. It haunted her dreams, made them more like nightmares.
Tiernan.
She grinned up at him, dazed and nearly delirious. “Let’s…dance.”
The words sounded funny on her tongue, like she wasn’t saying them properly.
“No.” He snarled and caught her by the wrist, dragging her away from the bonfire. “No more dancing.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Maeve glanced back over her shoulder, to where shadows thrived and bodies glowed. There, she caught sight of her new friend, the one with hair like fire. She threw one arm out and waved, but the movement was sluggish. Like slogging through sand.
“I have…to go,” Maeve called out to her faerie friend. “I think…I think I’m…in trouble.” The words slid from her mouth just as her toe caught an overturned rock and sent her tumbling forward.
