Page 1 of Throne of Dreams
ChapterOne
Soft sand squished between Maeve’s toes as she stood alone on the beach.
Except she wasn’t truly alone. She knew Lir, the fae warrior now sworn to protect her, stood within the shadows of the palm trees and towering palace walls. He was always there with her, watching and keeping a steady eye. She'd grown accustomed to his presence and sensed whenever he was near. His scent lingered; citrus and something woodsy. Even now, he stood far enough away from her so as not to intrude upon her privacy. He stood where the sparse seagrass met the rocky cliffside, where the play of sunlight and shadow kept him just out of view.
The summer breeze whipped through her long, unbound hair, tossing the golden pink strands. Her dress of simple lavender satin clung to her waist and hips, but billowed around her ankles while she slowly padded away from the shoreline, leaving damp footprints in her wake. To the west, the Lismore Marin spread out like a vast wash of turquoise watercolors, dotted with frothy white foam, sparkling like thousands of diamonds. The sea was calm this morning, much like the rest of Faeven. Yet a sense of restlessness, of unease, seemed to lurk just beneath the surface.
Three weeks had passed since Rowan died for her. Since Casimir betrayed her. The sting of both wounds to her heart still cut deep. Three weeks and she didn’t know if Saoirse lived. She didn’t know what had become of the Furies, the monstrous brothers she’d brought back from the dead. The last time she saw them, they were snapping the bodies of Carman’s guards in half like they were bowing oak trees weighed down by the first heavy snow. Recalling the sounds of it sent a shudder down her spine.
And Carman, the sorceress who raised her, was dead. Maeve had fulfilled her vow to herself and killed her. When she closed her eyes, she could see the way Carman’s crimson blood mixed with rainwater on the balustrade, forming a river of red. She shook away the memory, ignoring the haunting of her past.
She walked along the coast, her gaze darting around her. She was in Faeven now, in the Summer Court. There had been no dark fae attacks, no rumblings of unrest, and not a whisper of schemes or plotted assaults. But Maeve wasn’t a fool.
War with Parisa was coming.
But for now, she would accept the small slice of peace she’d been granted. No matter how temporary.
Maeve continued to stroll down the vacant stretch of beach. This was often where Tiernan would bring her to train, where she could practice controlling the wild magic inside her. For her entire life, she’d been raised to hate the fae. They were the enemy. Always.
Now she was one of them. The reality of it left a fog of harbored doubt in the back of her mind. For years she’d worn silver cuffs crafted by Carman that smothered her magic, leaving her weak. With them removed, that same magic flowed freely inside of her, wild and unencumbered. Fire and smoke, both gifts from her true mother, High Queen Fianna, had come naturally to her. But her more innate power, that of theanam ó Danua, was proving more difficult to wield. Creation, or soul magic as others called it, had become nothing more than a thorn in her side. The intensity of it was overwhelming. Daunting.
Tiernan constantly pressured her to draw on her power, to dominate it. But knowing she had the ability to bestow magic, to create life, to create anything…the magnitude of it was enough to keep her locked inside her bedroom for a full day after calling upon it once.
Soul magic stole her breath. Filled her with life. Terrified her.
Whenever Tiernan tested her, she panicked. She didn’t know what to create to protect herself. He didn’t train her with a sword or bows and arrows. She was allowed to keep her Aurastone on her at all times. The blade wielded its own kind of power. But other than that, he instructed her to use nothing but her own magic as self-defense.
The High King of Summer was irritating in the worst way possible, but she was indebted to him. He covered her scars with shimmery, rose gold tattoos that glided over her skin like satin. He kept her safe within the walls of his Court, protecting her from those who wished her harm. Loathing him wasn’t easy when he always ensured she remained alive.
She neared the end of the beach, where the large stone statue of a kneeling fae warrior protruded from the top of a rugged hill covered in overgrowth and bright wildflowers. She’d seen him from a distance when she first arrived in Niahvess, and up close, she realized he was truly colossal. Carved from quartz and granite, the fae warrior bowed in silent protection of the Summer Court, with his head bent over the hilt of his sword, an oath of never-ending allegiance. She wondered how long he’d been there if the statue predated even the High King himself.
For a moment, she considered calling out to Lir and asking, but a flicker of something caught the corner of her eye.
A faint sheen encased this area of the beach like someone had draped a gossamer blanket upon it, glimmering with deception. The moss covering the rocky hill looked too green, each wildflower too perfect. The vision before her seemed to shift with each blink, beckoning her closer.
Glamour.
The word reverberated inside of her, and she knew it to be true. Something was hidden beyond this conglomerate of rock and plants. Whatever it was, someone meant to keep it concealed within plain sight and kept away from prying eyes.
She approached the glamour and hesitated. It could be nothing. Or it could be everything. Goosebumps pebbled across her flesh. An unnatural energy charged the air. Relying only on her instinct, she placed one hand before her, braced for impact, and stepped through the glamour.
Magic caressed her skin, swept over her shoulders, and brushed her cheek with the touch of a practiced lover. Colors blended and swirled around her as she moved further in. Another step and she was free from the glamour, standing in what she could only describe as a lagoon.
Cavernous walls of reddish-brown rock climbed up on all sides, and an alcove overhead allowed brilliant rays of sunlight to pour in, washing the sandy beach before her in ribbons of gold. The sea kissed the shore in long, sweeping lengths, and tiny white flowers bloomed along the water’s edge, where the tide reached its highest point. Moss hung from the arched ceiling in patterns of green lace. This beach was a glimpse of seclusion, of pure paradise.
No wonder someone wanted it kept a secret.
Maeve inched closer to where the ripples of water barely seemed to crest. This wasn’t some roaring, terrifying ocean. The water was languid, calm, and decently shallow. Carefully, she lifted her dress over her head and laid it across a large, gray rock. Save for her Aurastone, she wore nothing but the necklace Tiernan and his twin sister, Ceridwen, made for her. It was a decadent opal with a beautiful amethyst on top, all wrapped in gold. She supposed it was meant to give her some comfort, knowing they could sense her emotions and come to her if she was in trouble, but she considered it more of a tracking device than a gift. The old Maeve might’ve yanked it from her neck and tossed it off the cliffs, but she wasn’t the same as she was three weeks ago.
She knew the dangers of Faeven firsthand, and though she may have been more reckless and ready to die when she first arrived in the fae realm, now she wasn’t so sure. Shaking off the anxiety, Maeve waded into the gentle waters, naked and blessedly alone.
The sea was blissfully cool and a dazzling shade of teal. She went further until she reached the lagoon’s deepest point, just below her belly, and the memory of the last time she’d stepped naked into a pool of water rushed over her. Images slammed into her mind, happening so quickly she was left gasping for air. She’d been alone with Rowan, deep within the Summer forest, and he’d brought her to a faerie pool where the sounds of a waterfall were musical, and the overhang of trees shaded them from the sun. It was there he’d helped her to fight through her fear of drowning. Now whenever she saw the ocean, whenever she faced the horizon where the sky met the sea, she thought of him.
Pain lanced its way through her at the memory.
She thought about the way he kissed her, about the way he touched her, vividly remembering the feel of his lips against her throat and the way his calloused palms slid over her thighs. She wouldn’t mind if those were the types of dreams she had when she tried to sleep at night. But sweet, tempting memories evaded her when darkness fell. Instead, the look on his face as sword after sword punctured his body haunted her. Maeve still felt the wet grass on her back as she cowered against the faerie hill while he covered her body with his own. She still saw the glint of the swords in the moonlight as they pierced his chest and wings, brutalizing his body. She still smelled his blood permeating the air as the strength faded from his lavender eyes.
He’d known all along that he would die for her. He’d told her as much.
