Page 20 of Throne of Dreams
“Of course. I wouldn’t expect anything less.” Maeve wanted to roll her eyes but held back. She knew Lir was only trying to help, but it seemed any conversation of consequence should be had with Tiernan directly. At least whenever it came to her. She offered a small, apologetic smile, and he inclined his head.
Just then, Ceridwen appeared. She was decadent, as always. Dressed in a gown of magenta satin with her strap of jeweled daggers at her waist. Her golden hair spilled down her waist and ribbons of deep navy were woven in the gilded strands. She pouted when she saw the plates of snacks and the carafe of wine spread out on the table before them. “I wasn’t invited to the party?”
Lir and Merrick were on their feet a second later, pulling out a chair for her and pouring a glass of wine.
“Apologies, my lady.” Merrick filled her plate with berries and dusted sugar on top of them.
“I’m only teasing.” Ceridwen popped a berry into her mouth. “What are we discussing?”
“Originally we were discussing when I would be able to travel to Kells.” Maeve finished her drink. “The Scathing is still a threat, and unless I can destroy it, I stand no chance of convincing Saoirse to return home with me.”
Home.
The word hung heavy between them, and Maeve became increasingly aware that every set of eyes on the patio was focused on her. She’d called Niahvess, their Court, her home.
“If it is a portal,” she continued, “then perhaps I should seek out the will o’ wisp for some clarity on the matter. She might provide some insight on something we’ve overlooked.”
“No,” Merrick slammed a fist on the table at the same time Lir said, “Absolutely not.”
A delicate line formed across Ceridwen’s brow. “Tiernan won’t allow it.”
Maeve’s muscles grew taut, and she forced the words out between a clenched jaw. “Tiernan isn’t my High King.”
Silence descended upon them, and even the distant call of the sea seemed to die. Brynn frowned, Merrick refused to meet her gaze, and faint shadows clouded Ceridwen’s eyes. She hadn’t intended to sound so harsh. But it was true. She was fae now, and as one she could choose to whom she swore allegiance. She hadn’t yet voiced her loyalty to any Court, and though Summer hosted her and protected her, Autumn was her soul. When she’d been afraid and alone running through the Autumn woods, fleeing Garvan and Shay, the Autumn Court had kept her safe. The woods shielded her from harm. It recognized her as one of its own. It sheltered her.
Lir shifted and stood, then came to stand behind her. He offered a silent kind of support.
“Her Highness makes a valid point, and we shouldn’t judge her for it.” He placed a strong, encouraging hand on her shoulder. “Maeve is Autumn. She is also Archfae. The choice will always be hers. Besides, we all know she despises being told what to do.”
Easy laughter slowly erased the awkward tension between them.
Merrick glanced around the balcony, then tossed a look over his shoulder. “Where is our High King anyway?”
Maeve expelled a heavy sigh. “I pissed him off.”
Brynn winked. “At least you admit it.”
Merrick leaned across the table toward her and stole one more glance behind him. “Have you two fucked yet?” he whispered.
“Mer!” Ceridwen scolded, and Brynn rolled her eyes skyward.
“Sorry, my lady.” Merrick ducked his head in shame, but his dimples were showing and she knew he wasn’t sorry at all. “But did you?”
Any other time, Maeve might’ve been embarrassed. Or blushed. But Tiernan had already insulted her enough for one day, so she schooled her expression into one of bored complacency when she said, “No. I’m sure Tiernan can get whoever he wants into his bed. But I will never be one of them.”
Brynn crossed her arms, and a look of displeasure hardened her usually pretty features. “You really don’t know him at all, do you?”
“I suppose not.” Maeve would readily admit there was plenty she didn’t know about the High King, but he hadn’t put forth much of an effort either. “It’s difficult to want to spend time with someone who enjoys humiliating you every day.”
Ceridwen grabbed another berry. “He’s not so bad.”
“He is to me,” Maeve countered, affronted by the fact that none of them seemed to have any clue howawfulhe truly was to her.
Ceridwen sighed. “You have to understand, his past—”
“Is no worse than mine,” Maeve cut the High Princess off and met her gaze as she popped the berry into her mouth. “I have suffered just as much. He can at least mourn the loss of his family, whereas mine was stolen from me before I even knew them. But I don’t let my past dictate my words. I don’t insult you. Any of you. I don’t embarrass you or shame you. I don’t intentionally seek to hurt your feelings, and I never would.” Maeve shoved back away from the table and stood up. “Not ever.”
Ceridwen bit her lip and shared a glance with Lir. “I’ll talk to him. It’s just—”
