Page 83 of Crown of Roses
Maeve spun on him.
“Does it look like I have a plan? I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.” She raked her hands through her wet hair and sent droplets of water flying across the hardwood floor. “I thought I was prepared. I read so many books. I spent hours researching and learning about the fae because I found this world so fascinating. Because I wanted to understand more about my curse.”
She dropped onto the edge of her bed, exasperated. Exhausted. Slightly defeated. “But it’s nothing like I imagined. And now I’ve been tasked with killing an Archfae to save my kingdom and my people, and I have no idea how to do it. There aren’t any books on assassinations and murder plots. At least not any I’ve found.”
Tiernan strolled toward her in his casual way, effortless and uncaring. “Parisa has taken much from me. She’s taken from all of us.” He bent down, plucked a brown leaf from her hair, then replaced it with a warm summer rose. “You won’t have to fight this battle alone. All you have to do is ask.”
“Oh, sure. Let me just ask a High King for help and not expect him to want anything in return.” She rolled her eyes to the glass ceiling above. “Why would you want to help me anyway? You hate me. You have since the day I arrived.”
He shrugged, an indifferent rise and fall of the shoulders. “I hate her more.”
A bubble of fresh annoyance rose up inside her. “That can be debated, my lord.”
He tilted his head toward her, the barest of inches. “Indeed.”
She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “Just…just leave me alone. I need to think. Or sleep. Or something.”
Tiernan’s dark brow quirked. “Are you dismissing me in my own palace?”
Maeve challenged him with a hard stare. “Would you listen if I was?”
He chuckled. It was a low, rumbling sound. “Absolutely not.”
“I thought as much.” She was trying to consider another, less polite way to tell him to piss off, when a thought occurred to her. It’d been at the back of her mind, waiting patiently to be considered. “What’s a sirra?”
He eyed her coolly. “Why?”
She pressed her lips together. “Just curious.” That much was true.
“It’s an Old Laic term, most often used to mean soul mate.” He idly toyed with the rolled sleeve of his shirt. “Where did you hear it?”
“In Autumn. When Gar—” She snapped her mouth shut, but it was too late. Tiernan went eerily still.
“When who?” His voice was menacing. Deep and primal. And slightly terrifying.
She scooted back further, onto her bed. “Nothing.”
“Do not lie to me, astora.” He stalked over and gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, jerking her face up to his. “What happened in the autumn woods?”
“I…there was…”
“Be very careful about what you say next.”
“After our dance,” she spat the word out, “I followed faerie lights into the woods. But they vanished before I found Lianan.”
A curious expression passed over Tiernan’s face and he eased his grip.
“The will ó wisp,” Maeve clarified.
“She gave you her name?”
Maeve shrugged. “She spoke about herself in the third person, so I assumed…”
He nodded once. “Continue.”
“Anyway, before I found her…I ran into the Archfae of the Autumn Court. Garvan and Shay.”
Tiernan expelled a breath, but it hissed out through his teeth. “What did they do to you?”
