Page 147 of Throne of Dreams
“She doesn’t want to destroy Faeven, Maeve.” He suffered her a sigh, looking down at her like she was merely a child who didn’t yet understand the ways of the world. “She wants to unite it under one ruler…her.”
Exasperation thrummed through her blood. Was her brother really so foolish? “So you willingly bowed down before a former Archfae with no power and no magic?”
Garvan’s gaze cut to her, his emerald green eyes igniting. “I bow beforeno one.”
Maeve’s brow arched.
Interesting.
“We are equals.” But his voice had lost some of its conviction.
“No.” Maeve jabbed her finger into his chest, shocked when none of the guards made a move to detain her. “Youare a High Prince of the Autumn Court.Sheis nothing. She’s the one relying on outsourced dark magic to seize control because she abused the power bestowed upon her. And the gods saw fit to punish her for it. You, Garvan, arenother equal.”
She didn’t care if she was playing into his ego, if her attempt to bolster his confidence caused her insides to flinch. If she could just get him to see reason, if she could get through to him somehow, then maybe…maybe she could convince him to abandon Parisa. She could never forgive him for his crimes, especially not the death of Shay, but she could at least prevent him from doing more damage. From hurting more people. From ending more lives.
His mood shifted, and his eyes cleared. Something in his expression changed, and for a second, he looked almost pleasant. Kind. Like she imagined he would have been before Parisa. Before Carman. Before the Evernight War. Before their mother died.
“You know I’m right.” She glanced cautiously at the guards who stood back, pretending not to listen. Then softer, “Everyone here knows I’m right.”
“So what if you are?” He countered, throwing his arms out to his sides. “What’s done is done.”
“And what exactly has been done?” Maeve demanded. “What did you do? What did you give her?”
His jaw clenched and shadows fell across his face.
“Tell me. Tell me now.” She searched his face, desperate to get through to him. If she could break him down a little further. “Whatever it is, I can help you fix it.”
“No one can help me.”
“Garvan,” she pleaded, “you can trust me. You can help us stop her. Help us end her. Whatever Parisa holds over your head, whatever bargain you made with her, is of no consequence once she’s dead. I’ll forgive you for—”
He barked out a harsh laugh, his lips curling into a sneer. “You? Forgiveme?”
Maeve stiffened and tried not to wince. She’d been so close but had taken their conversation too far.
“The deal I made with her is none of your concern.” Garvan spun on his heel and stalked off.
The guards gently urged her to follow so she did, staying a few paces back as Garvan led them deeper into the mountain, further away from the waterfall. The corridors blended together like a winding maze, a labyrinth of damp stone and feeble light. Worry niggled at the back of her mind. The deeper into the mountain they ventured, the more difficult it would be for her to find her way out. For her to make it to one of the balconies. Alarm crawled along her spine like dozens of tiny spiders, but she shivered, forcing her trepidation to the back of her mind. She would find a way out, no matter what.
The air was cooler here. It smelled of ancient earth and despair. She counted at least eight posted guards, not including the ones walking alongside her. Even if she managed to escape from wherever Garvan was taking her, it wouldn’t be easy. Her glamoured Aurastone was safely tucked into the sheath strapped to her thigh, and she would be forced to use it to get back to the Summer Court. Innocent lives would be lost unless she convinced them to side with her instead.
The thought, though hopeful, was terribly unlikely.
Garvan stopped before a massive door hinged with a metal lock and swung it open. He stepped back, allowing her entry. “Your quarters, my lady.”
It was a small room, not quite a dungeon, but not exactly a proper bedroom. The bed was plain, nothing more than a mattress sitting on top of a wooden platform. A wash basin was positioned in the corner with a small toilet next to it. And there were no windows.
“And how long will I have to stay here?” Maeve asked, rubbing her hands along her arms to ward off the lingering chill.
His shoulders rose and fell, carelessly. “Could be an hour. A day or two. Weeks. Maybe a month. I suppose it depends on her mood.”
Just then, another Autumn fae appeared in the doorway.
One she recognized.
Aeralie stood there with a blanket in her arms. She bowed toward Garvan and strode forward, her movements stiff.
“Here’s a blanket, my lady.” Her voice was rough. Aggressive. Maeve drew back, away from the unexpected outburst. “I doubt it’s what you’re used to in the Summer Court. But if you don’t move around too much, the fabric won’t scratch your skin and you might stay warm.”
