Page 86 of Crown of Roses
Brynn plucked a toothpick from a glass jar on the table and stuck it between her teeth. “None of us do, High Princess.”
Maeve looked up at her. “What other choice do we have?”
“We don’t know what she’s planning.” Brynn rolled the toothpick between her lips. Her burgundy curls looked like crushed velvet in the sunlight. “There has to be a reason for all of these attacks. In both realms.”
“Power?” Lir suggested.
Casimir’s dark brown gaze landed on Brynn. “Revenge?”
A line of worry creased her brow. “Against who?”
“Against us.” Lir stood. His towering frame blocked the sunshine like a solid wall. “Every one of us knew the goodness of her mother, the former High Queen Brigid. Parisa knows she will never have our respect.”
“Or our trust,” Tiernan interjected.
Ceridwen rubbed her ruby lips together. “We can’t endure another Evernight War. The Courts won’t survive it. Our people won’t survive it.”
“Then it’s settled.” Tiernan took a sip of his coffee, but his knuckles were white. “We agree she must be stopped.”
Maeve eyed him, eyed the fae whose wrath seemed barely contained beneath the surface of his sun-touched skin. “Can we ask the other Courts for help?”
Harsh laughter erupted around her, and it scraped against her ears like nails on a stone wall.
“Garvan and the rest of Autumn would rather watch us die,” Ceridwen said as she stirred what was left of her tea.
“And Winter?” Maeve tossed out, hopeful.
“The Winter Court can be…” Merrick hesitated. He sought the High King, and a silent look passed between them. “Difficult.”
“So, it’s just us then?” Maeve was met with solemn nods. She had to admit, she didn’t really expect any sort of assistance from the other two Courts, but she did have a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, Winter would be willing to assist. It hardly seemed fair. They were the ones risking their lives to venture into the Spring Court and take out its High Queen. They were the only ones willing to fight, to stand up for what was right. Yet if they succeeded, both Autumn and Winter would reap the benefits of never being attacked by dark fae again. Unless, of course, it was only Summer that was under attack.
Casimir reached into the pocket of his vest and pulled out the map he received from Aran. Faeven was painted in a world of shifting and moving watercolors. All Four Courts were depicted. All four Crown Cities were rightfully displayed. Then there were dozens of other smaller landscapes, roads, rivers, and…what looked to be fae.
Maeve examined the map. She followed the lines and traced them with her mind. The fastest route to Spring was through the mountains bordering the Summer Court. But the Crown City, Suvarese, was set upon what looked to be a rugged mountainside, located beyond a river and through a wide valley. If they wanted to cross the border unannounced, then it would be best if they circled around the mountains first. “Alright. We need to decide if we want to launch an all-out attack or take her by surprise.”
Lir shifted, adjusted the studded band across his chest. “The less casualties, the better.”
“Agreed.” Merrick raked a hand through his hot pink hair. “I’m always down for a sneak attack.”
Brynn pulled the toothpick from her mouth and pointed at the map. “It does seem to be the best option.”
Tiernan, Maeve realized, had been painfully silent. Again. She looked up at him. “Since this is your realm, and we’re in your Court, I think it’s obvious you should be in charge of logistics.”
He ran his tongue along his teeth and brushed an invisible fleck of dust from his sky blue shirt. “How kind of you to grant me permission.”
“Oooh.” Merrick’s gaze shot back and forth between both of them. Lir sat up straighter, and Brynn stared, wide-eyed.
Maeve stood, ensuring the grinding sound of the chair against the smooth stone patio grated into everyone’s ears. Then she faced Tiernan, head on. She was done with his quips. With his snarky remarks. With his blatant cruelty. Everything about him was so hot and cold. His mood flared, his temper raged. He was Summer to the extreme. Reckless. Unforgiving. His mood fluctuated with the weather, brutal and deadly. And she was done with it.
“Oh, I’m sorry, my lord.” She lifted her chin, refusing to back down from his harsh stare. “Did you have another plan you wished to share with us?”
Tiernan opened his mouth to speak, but Maeve barreled ahead, silencing him. She jabbed her finger into the solid wall of his chest. “I know you find it so amusing to belittle me in front of your friends. But why don’t we take it a step further, shall we, and tell them how you made me perform a mating dance against my will?”
There were a few smothered gasps, but Maeve didn’t spare them a glance.
“Your Highness.” Tiernan ground her title out between gritted teeth, and his eyes darkened like storm clouds.
She didn’t care. It was time all of them knew how poorly he treated her. How awful he truly was to her. Both Casimir and Ceridwen stood, guarded. “Or how you’re constantly sneaking into my mind with your snide remarks?” Maeve added.
