Page 46 of Throne of Dreams
“My lord.” His cerulean gaze landed on Maeve. “My lady.”
Tiernan ignored the fact that his Court was being overrun. “Report.”
“Spring fae,moh Rí.” He gestured to the fleeing fae, who looked defeated and battered. “They came through the Pass of Veils.”
Maeve knew the Pass of Veils was the only way to get from the Summer Court to the Spring Court, but she’d never seen it for herself. It was a treacherous pass that wound its way through the northern mountains, the same ones dividing the border of Spring and Summer. When they considered infiltrating Spring to attack Parisa, that was the path they were going to take. The only other option was to venture all the way around.
“That’s incredibly dangerous.” Tiernan watched as a female fae struggled past them with one child in her arms and another in tow behind her. Their feet were bare and blistered. The youngest had cuts up and down her little legs. “What are they doing here?”
“Fleeing. Requesting amnesty.” Merrick stepped closer and his voice dropped. “They’re refugees,Your Grace.”
Maeve’s stomach clenched. Refugees. If they were running from Spring, then Parisa and her dark fae must be in complete control.
“Shit.” Tiernan shoved his midnight hair back from his face as the winds from the storm he called rolled in. “Suvarese must be worse off than we thought.”
A scream ripped through the air, and Maeve’s blood ran cold. It was the sound of imminent death. There was a crunching sound, like the snapping of a hundred trees all groaning in agony at once. Maeve’s knees softened, her grip around her flaming sword tightened, as a flood of terror-filled cries reverberated through the forest.
“Oh yeah. And there’s also that.” Merrick pointed to where a tree bowed over, its massive trunk wrenched and mangled. Pushing through the forest, shoving the trees out of its way like they were nothing more than a few pesky branches, emerged a monster of impossible size.
Maeve stumbled back a step, and Tiernan’s hand instantly went to the small of her back to steady her.
“Giant,” she breathed, remembering how Brynn once said they were merely the stuff of legend. How they weren’t supposed to exist. Yet there one was, lurching before her. Living. Breathing. Destroying.
Black fur was draped around its boulder-sized shoulders, and its torso was bare and gnarled, marred by scars from years of battle. They wound up his body, wrapping over him like angry red vines. Bands of leather and steel were forged around his upper arms. A leather pouch was slung around his waist, and it hung over layers of mangy gray wool that fell to his knees. His nose was long and bumpy, his eyes were menacing and set back, so his brow jutted out over his face like a ledge. His lips curled beneath a scraggly red beard. Links of rusted chains fell from his neck, and those same chains matched the cuffs on his wrists and ankles, like he’d been a prisoner.
Maeve quickly recounted in her mind anything she’d ever read about giants. They preferred to dwell near mountains, where the air was cool and the thick swirl of mist kept them out of sight. As far as she could recall, they were solitary beings, those who preferred the company of the silence and stillness of their surroundings to living among others of their own kind. They were thought to be created from the earth, from the deepest stone within the tallest mountains, but there was no real record of how or why they came into existence. They simplywere. But there was one clear, definite fact she remembered from her studies.
Giants were neither friendly nor unfriendly. They were not friend or foe. For the most part, they were harmless. Unless they were provoked.
And given this giant was hell bent on destroying the fae running at his feet, she bet it was the latter.
“Merrick, go to Ceridwen. Tell her to gather a group and set up camps. We’ll deal with the refugees when the time comes.” Tiernan kept his gaze focused on the giant slowly ambling toward them. “Right now, we have to make sure they stay alive.”
Merrickfaded,and four of his scouts approached their High King.
“We have to fight him off until Lir arrives with the rest of our forces. More than anything, we can’t let him leave the forest. If he makes it to the city, he will destroy Niahvess.” He looked down at Maeve. “Protect the innocent,astora.The rest of you, come with me.”
He didn’t even give her a chance to protest. Not that she would have, but still. So much for not leaving his side. Maeve watched as Tiernan and the scouts sprinted toward the lumbering giant, and then she ran in the opposite direction. Toward the terrified fae.
“South!” she shouted over their cries. They rushed past her, clutching their belongings and holding tight to their families. “Run south! You’ll be safe in the city!”
She kept her sword of sunlight at the ready and continued to direct the Spring fae toward the safety of Niahvess when a child-like cry raised the hairs on the back of her neck. She whipped in the direction of the sound and realized it was coming from the banks of the faerie pool. Stumbling through the slick grass was a group of fae. Possibly a family. There were three adults. Seven children. One of them was on the ground, his face stained with filth and tears, his small hand wrapped around his ankle. He could scarcely be older than his sixth year of life. But the injury he sustained was not the cause of his cries.
She followed their panicked gazes to the edge of the forest, right before the waterfall, where the mist unfurled.
Then she saw it.
The mass of shadows and night that moved like death. The creature of blood-chilling fear who fed off happiness, a reaper of nightmares. A wall of darkness threatened to descend upon the frightened fae, promising them an eternity of torment and agony.
Maeve would remember that dark fae anywhere. The Hagla. She remembered the bitter cold that seeped into her bones as it swarmed her, as it stole into her mind, warping her senses when she’d been in the Fieann Forest with Rowan, Casimir, and Saoirse. She remembered cowering on the forest floor, lost to the mercy of her memories of the cage and the Cliffs of Morrigan. Of the angry sea and the jaw-like rocks that waited to devour her.
The Hagla would attack them. It would feed off their fear.
Damn if she would let it even get within striking distance of the petrified Spring fae.
Sword raised, she ran toward the shadows with a battle cry on her lips.
ChapterFourteen
