Page 159 of Throne of Dreams
Tiernan jerked backward as some invisible force dragged him away. His eyes were wide, and his mouth fell open while shadowy tendrils wrapped around him, smothering him. Suffocating him. His body contorted, pinned in place by dark magic.
“Tiernan!” His name wrenched from Maeve’s throat as his pain reverberated through her. His agony carved itself into her heart, it stole the light of her soul. “No! Let him go!”
Parisa cackled, her eyes wild with vengeance. Malice swarmed her. Dark magic rolled off her in choking waves. “Stupid girl! Did you honestly think you could best me? That I wouldn’t win?”
Maeve ignored her. She wouldn’t let her take him, not like this. Without warning, the world shimmered.
“You see, Maeve, darling,” Parisa hissed, the veins on her neck bulging, “You took Casimir from me. You took Fearghal from me. And you cost me Garvan. So, it’s only fair that I return the favor.”
Lir shifted then, fur and fangs appearing as he took his full wolf form. His growl stood the hairs on Maeve’s neck on end, but she was faster. The retribution she sought blinded her with rage. She was the sun and the storm. The reckoning and the wrath.
Flipping her Aurastone high in the air, she caught it by the hilt and hurled it at Parisa. It stuck in her face, just below her left eye. The female shrieked, her frail body thrashing and flailing. Maeve sprinted forward. She did not relent. She did not release. Grabbing the Aurastone, she yanked it upward, screaming and releasing all her fury. Until she gouged out Parisa’s left eye. Her skin boiled and blood sprayed out from the wound like a fountain, splattering all over like acidic rain.
Maeve ripped the dagger out, and Parisa stumbled backward, howling. She would die first before she let Parisa take him from her.
Tiernan slid into her mind, his voice strangled.“Be brave, astora.”
She blinked up at him, shaken. “What?”
But he was no longer looking at her. His face was stone, his brows furrowed.
“Call in your favor!” he shouted, and Maeve’s blood turned to ice.
“No!” Ceridwen cried. “No, Tiernan, don’t say it!”
Determination lined his handsome face as he lifted his voice to the heavens and beyond. “I summon you now, Aed, god of death! Call in your bargain!”
“No!”Maeve screamed.
The ground beneath them shuddered and trembled, quaking in fear.
“Tiernan,” Maeve whispered, her breath fanning out before her, as she clung to the steady beating of his pulse, of the bond between them.
The trees recoiled. The seas churned. Ominous and foreboding shadows emerged, engulfing them in a swath of darkness.
Lir, Merrick, and Brynn ducked their heads. Dorian stood motionless, his gaze latched onto the emerging pitch of night. Ceridwen, eyes bloodshot, lowered her gaze to the blood-stained ground. But Maeve looked up, refusing to shrink away from the immensely powerful magic that brought all life to a standstill.
The god of death had arrived.
ChapterForty-Nine
Aed, the god of death, stood before Maeve.
She’d never seen a god before, never even imagined what one might look like. But he was terrifyingly beautiful. So painfully lovely, it almost hurt her to look upon him. A cape of darkness flowed around him, revealing a broad chest and sinewy muscle, like he’d been carved from granite. His jaw was chiseled, his cheekbones high and prominent. His flesh, nearly the same color as her own, was flawless. Silver hair fell to his shoulders, though small strands were braided and twisted back from his face, the tips of them black. Kohl lined his illustrious eyes, a cool slate gray.
He strolled toward them, confident in his every step, and no one dared to move or even breathe in his presence. Cold air sank deep into Maeve’s bones and a breeze sifted around her, carrying the scent of him. Tempting, forbidden fruit. Wintry, frosty nights. And something dangerous she couldn’t quite place.
“Hello again, Parisa.” Aed’s sharp voice cut through the deafening silence.
The fae in question paled. Black blood oozed from what remained in the space where her eye had once been, but Maeve knew her pallor had nothing to do with the wound and everything to do with the god standing before her. Parisa’s sullied magic swelled with panic, then receded. Her shadowed bindings released Tiernan, and he fell to the ground as shefaded, leaving nothing in her wake but the remains of overwhelming fear.
Tiernan was on his feet in a second, his wings unfurling as he flew to Maeve’s side, shielding her.
Maeve stepped out from behind his barricade, ready to defend the ones she loved. Ready to defend all of them. “You can’t have him.”
“I haven’t come for him.” Aed arched one dark brow and held out his hand to her. “I’ve come to retrieve what is owed to me.”
Fisting her hands on her hips, she glared up at him. “And what exactly is owed to you, Aed, god of death?”
