Page 142 of Throne of Dreams
A sister for a sister.
Maeve eased back in her chair, withdrawn. She rubbed her hands over her face, shoving her hair back. “Garvan and Parisa will stop at nothing until they have me in their clutches.”
Tension wound its way through Tiernan’s body, and he looked over at her, covering her hand with his own. “What would you have me do?”
She lifted one shoulder, then let it fall, docile. “Give me up.”
“Never.” The words left him in a harsh breath.
“What other choice do you have?” Her eyes were pleading. “How many more lives will be lost until we give her what she wants?”
“Maeve,” he began, but she lifted one hand, silencing him.
“No.” She pressed her lips together, intertwining their fingers. “Look around you, my lord. They may not say it directly, but everyone here at the table knows this is entirely my fault.”
“Bullshit, my lady.” Merrick’s words were laced with venom. “This war with Parisa started before you were even born.”
“Merrick is right.” Brynn’s eyes shifted from warm brown to near black. “We would never give you up to that monster of a bitch.”
“But we have to get Ceridwen back,” Maeve argued, determination filling the smooth planes of her face.
Tiernan nodded. “And we will. But not at the cost of you.”
Silence fell between them. Maeve was willing to give herself up in exchange for Ceridwen, and as much as he longed to have his twin returned to the Summer Court, he couldn’t bring himself to let Maeve walk into danger unless he had a foolproof way to get her out. But as of now, no one could think of any alternative means. All of which brought him back to his original point.
There had to be another way.
Merrick leaned forward. His brow was furrowed in thought, his gaze contemplative. “I think I have an idea.”
“Does it involve handing Maeve over to Garvan?” Brynn asked, inspecting the dagger she held in her hands.
“Yes.” He lifted one finger as her gaze shot to him, a silent plea for her to hold her fire. “And no.”
At that, Tiernan sat up, interest in his hunter’s scheme taking root. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, if we can get Maeve into the Autumn Court in exchange for Ceridwen,” he paused, the idea taking form in his mind, “then I think I know a way we can also get her out.”
Lir’s hand fell away from Maeve’s shoulder. “How do you figure?”
“Garvan isn’t stupid. If he’s holding Ceridwen hostage, then he’s got the entire palace warded. He’ll be expecting us to attack him, not agreeing to the trade.” Merrick spread his hands on the table and started drawing up invisible outlines with his fingers. “Kyol’s palace is built into the side of a mountain. I’ve been there numerous times, and I know for a fact there’s a balcony on every level. The palace is designed to be impenetrable from above and below, mostly in part due to the—”
“Waterfalls,” Lir finished for him, slowly nodding.
Brynn flicked her dagger between her fingers, agitated. “You’re seriously implying she should jump to her death?”
“No, of course not.” Merrick’s bright blue gaze landed on Maeve. “I’m implying she should jump to her freedom.”
Brynn’s scowl only deepened. “Mer, that’s a suicide mission. You have no way of knowing if the palace in Kyol is still intact. For all we know, Garvan could’ve changed everything. Reinforced it somehow. I mean, it’s been years since you’ve been to the Autumn Court.”
His answering smile was calculating. “Has it though?”
Brynn struggled to control the grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Bastard.”
“Hunter,” he corrected smoothly.
“They’ll catch her.” Lir’s cool voice filled the space, chilling the air. “Assuming she survives the fall, she’ll be target practice for Autumn’s archers if she tries to fly.”
“She won’t be flying.” Merrick raked a hand through his hot pink hair. “She’ll be swimming.”
