Page 60 of Throne of Dreams
“No. Never.” Shay scowled and his mouth turned down in disgust. “My parents would disown him.”
“And what would you have me do?”
Shay glared up at him and his eyes shifted to something wild. Feral. His magic illuminated him, glowing with a haze of power, the epitome of Autumn.
“Protect her,” he growled.
Tiernan nodded. The bond he shared with Maeve was unmistakable then, even if she wasn’t ready to accept it. But that fierce protectiveness, that determination, it was the exact same feeling he shared for Ceridwen.
“I will continue to protect Maeve and I will offer you protection as well. In exchange,” Tiernan gestured between them, “you will give me information.”
“On?” Shay prompted.
“Garvan’s movements. His dealings.” Tiernan offered his hand. “Anything you think may help us prepare against Parisa and remove both of them from power.”
Shay gripped his hand. “Agreed.”
A Strand formed between them, a crashing wave upon a harvest moon. He felt the sensation of it take form around his bicep, hidden from view. It floated over his skin, then branded him.
Shay examined his own arm, the same Strand having taken form on him as well. “I’m assuming the invitation to Sunatalis still stands?”
“As it has for years.” The Autumn Court rarely appeared at the celebration of his and Ceridwen’s birth, but with Maeve in the picture, Garvan and Shay’s attendance was almost guaranteed.
Tiernan headed toward the door of the study and paused with his hand on the handle. “One more thing.”
Shay waited, expectant.
“Why the wardrobe? Was it all for show?”
“No.” Shay swallowed but kept his chin high. How interesting it was that Maeve often did the same thing. “No. I believe with every fiber of my being that my mother would’ve wanted her most prized possessions to go to her only daughter.”
Without another word between them, Tiernan and Shay returned to the outdoor ballroom. It appeared the Summer and Autumn fae had settled tensions just fine on their own as music exploded around them, accompanied by boisterous laughter and excitement. The very last thing he expected to see, however, was Maeve right in the midst of it all, dancing as though she didn’t have a single worry in the world.
* * *
Maeve was alive.
The ballroom had become a swirl of bodies and movement, of incoherent giggles and too many glasses of bubbly wine. She’d lost count of the number of drinks she’d consumed and found she no longer cared. The music flowed through her, lifting her. She soared to its spirited beat and danced with abandon, and all around her, Autumn and Summer fae twirled, spun, and swayed to the wild rhythm. Beside her, Aeralie whirled with her head tilted up to the starlit sky, and every now and then she’d glance over at Maeve and grin.
It had taken a lot of pleading and she may have entered into a teensy contract or two, but she’d finally convinced Merrick and Brynn to join her on the dance floor. Lir had outright refused, but she’d caught him smirking as she carted Merrick and Brynn away by the hand. Though she wasn’t entirely sure that dragging Brynn from the dais was such a good idea. She moved and twisted her body like she was trying to avoid stepping in a pile of mud.
Maeve snorted.
“Don’t mock me, Your Highness,” Brynn called over to her, struggling to shake her hips. “I haven’t had nearly enough alcohol for this sort of thing.”
Merrick laughed. “I don’t think the alcohol is going to help.”
Brynn gave him the finger and turned away from them to join Aeralie instead.
Maeve stilled and watched Brynn take Aeralie’s hands while trying her best to figure out how to dance without looking like she had no idea what she was doing.
“Do you think she’s mad at us?”
“Eh, she’ll get over it.” Merrick reached out and grabbed her hand. “Come on, Your Highness. Let’s show them what you’ve got.”
Merrick, on the other hand, was an exceptional dancer. He looked like he walked on air. Every motion was so easy and fluid, like second nature. He guided her along, leading her through a sequence of intricate steps. The music seemed to flow into him, through him, and on more than one occasion, Maeve caught herself staring.
He whirled her around in a sweeping circle of spins, keeping her hand clasped above her head the entire time. Her cheeks ached from smiling so much and her heart was so full, so happy, it almost burst. But then the tempo slowed into a gentle cadence of highs and lows, like that of a ballad or love song, and fae couples started drifting off into pairs. Just as easily as he’d spun her around, Merrick pulled her in for a slow dance. He kept his distance, holding her hand to guide her while his other hand barely grazed the small of her back.
