Page 117 of Throne of Dreams
Saoirse’s eyes darkened to the shade of the deepest part of the sea. “When Carman fell to your blade, your friends back there murdered anyone who dared to speak ill of you or highly of her. Most of the city was evacuated beforehand, to Cantata, and those who stayed behind took up arms against the Scathing.”
Maeve wasn’t sure she heard correctly. She shook her head and her gaze slid to Saoirse. “Citizens stayed behind to fight?”
“Kells is their home.” She looked straight ahead to the ruins, refusing to make eye contact. “Just as much as it is mine.”
There was something in her tone, about the way she spoke of Kells, and it gouged out a part of Maeve’s heart. It wouldn’t be easy to convince Saoirse to return to Faeven with her, to beg her not to stay in this desolate place. She’d assumed Saoirse would want to come with her, that she would have no qualms about abandoning Kells and leaving the fallen city behind. But now, she wasn’t so sure. If Saoirse didn’t want to leave, she wouldn’t, and there would be nothing Maeve could say or do that would be enough to change her mind. As much as it hurt to admit, she would understand her friend’s reasoning. Because not so long ago, she felt the same way.
Defeated, her shoulders fell. “I should’ve done more.”
Tiernan was by her side a second later. “You did enough.”
“The High King is right, my lady.” Saoirse looked up at him, nodding firmly. “You did all you could do. Any of us would’ve done the same if we’d found ourselves in your situation.”
A situation in which an evil sorceress-queen wanted to kill her.
Their reassurances only alleviated a small amount of the remorse she held inside of her. “I feel like I abandoned my home.”
“You may not remember, but I do.” Saoirse’s voice was soft. “I remember vividly how quickly the soldiers of Kells turned their back on you when they learned you were fae. If you had stayed behind, even with your heart of pure gold, they would’ve killed you. And all of it would’ve stemmed from the hatred ingrained in them since their birth.”
She remembered, too. The way they shoved her down. The looks of disgust that rippled across their stern features. She remembered all of it. She’d seen that same loathing from the soldiers they killed in the Moors.
Fae bitch.
Maeve gritted her teeth together. She wouldn’t soon forget that soldier’s boot slamming into the side of her still-tender face. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right.” Saoirse gave her a knowing smile, then stumbled to a stop.
Maeve held her breath.
Malevolence slithered through the air. Menacing and chilling all at once.
“My lady.” Saoirse nodded then, looking at Tiernan. “Your Grace.” She gestured to a gaping hole in the ground, a wide chasm that looked like it had ripped through the earth with a mouthful of blades for teeth. Steps of rot descended into a barren cavern where it was so dark, not even a shred of light could penetrate the blackness of night glaring back at them. “Welcome to the Scathing.”
ChapterThirty-Four
Although Tiernan had been in worse places before, he shuddered when they entered the Scathing.
He could barely see two paces in front of him, so all-encompassing was the darkness. Next to him, Maeve lifted her sword of sunlight, casting a burning glow so they could see where they were walking. Bitter cold clung to his skin like a cloak of ice and his breath swirled up before him in puffs of mist. The air was leached of any warmth, yet it was heavy with the pulse of dark magic. It was dank and unsettling. A foul stench greeted them, reeking of excrement, urine, and sweat.
Evil lived here.
“Stay close,” he murmured, drawing up to Maeve’s side. Dian took the lead into the portal, with Tethra and Balor bringing up the rear. Saoirse was to his left, her sword drawn and at the ready.
“This place is cursed.” Tethra’s voice rumbled from behind him.
Saoirse’s breath floated in front of her. “There’s rumors it thrives on fear.”
“Much like the Hagla,” Balor said. “Even I can feel its deathlike grip upon my shadows.”
“Yes,” Tiernan agreed.
This place was all too similar to the dark fae known for preying on terror and nightmares. But he couldn’t understand how. He didn’t know how Parisa had become so powerful. The god Aed had stripped her magic from her after she murdered her mother, High Queen Brigid, yet whatever she dabbled in now must be dangerously strong.
Maeve paused, raising her sword higher. “It looks like someone…lives here.”
Tiernan glanced around their surroundings. She was right. There was a thatch of hay that resembled a bed, along with a pile of books covered in grime and dust. Beyond that were two passageways, each one branching off in a different direction.
Maeve peered down at the books. “What do you think—”
