Page 73 of Throne of Dreams
The words of the will o’ wisp echoed in her mind.
The only way to save your kingdom…is by destroying the magic source of the Scathing.
The magic source. The one whomadethe Scathing. Not Parisa.
Fearghal.
“Shit.”
Maeve had to find Tiernan. She abandoned her books and notes and rushed from the library in search of the High King. Decorations for the Sunatalis celebration caused her steps to falter. She’d almost forgotten about it. Gilded suns crafted from gold and sapphires floated in every corridor. Fully bloomed plumeria in shades of magenta, violet, soft yellow, and white floated in the fountains and streams running through the courtyards. Tiny orbs illuminated with faerie lights hung from the palm trees and flickered, dancing and playing, illuminating every surface in a soft glow. As much as she wanted to idle and take in all the lovely decor, finding Tiernan was more important.
He wasn’t in his study or out on the patio where they usually dined. She went to the opposite side of the palace to check the outdoor ballroom, but he was nowhere to be found. Running out of options, she headed toward the far wing, to their bedrooms. If he wasn’t there, then she’d go to the beach next.
She rounded the corner and found Merrick lounging in the hall, propped up against the wall with one ankle kicked over the other. At the sight of her, he jolted upright.
She waved. “Hi, Merrick.”
“My lady.” He maneuvered himself so he was between her and Tiernan’s door.
Her brow arched in question. “What are you doing?”
“Oh, nothing.” His shoulder fell against the frame, casually blocking her path.
“Right.” She tried to sidestep him, but he moved with her. “I need to speak with Tiernan. It’s important.”
Merrick’s face blanched but he recovered quickly. “He’s ah…busy.”
“Busy,” Maeve repeated dully. She could sense the lie fizzling between them. He was hiding something.
“Yeah. High King stuff.” He blew a strand of hot pink hair out of his face. “Really boring.”
Maeve stepped up, closing the distance between them. To his credit, he didn’t back down. “I’m sure he can spare a few moments for me.”
He laughed but it was off. Forced. “Why don’t we go grab some of those pumpkin tarts you love so much?” He reached out to take her hand, but she jerked away from him.
“No.” Her gaze slid to the door he barricaded. “What are you hiding?”
His cerulean gaze pleaded with her, begging her not to ask. “Maeve.”
She bristled. Whatever he was keeping from her, it involved Tiernan. Knots of trepidation twisted inside her stomach as an empty, hollowed-out sensation gripped her. Her pulse kicked up, thundering in her ears, and she crossed her arms to disguise her apprehension.
“Step aside, Merrick.”
He hesitated, torn between whatever duty he’d been assigned and giving in to her request.
Her magic thrummed in warning. “If you don’t let me pass, I’ll blast a fucking hole through this wall.”
“My lady, please. It’s not—”
Bolts of fire shot out from the tips of her fingers and scorched the wall behind Merrick, narrowly missing his legs.
“Shit. Fine.” He stepped out of her way.
Maeve grabbed the handle and wrenched the door open. Her chest heaved and her heart tumbled into the acidic pit of her stomach. Her mind screamed and her blood roared. Tiernan was there, but he wasn’t alone. A half-naked female fae was wrapped around him like a vine. Her hair was the color of freshly fallen snow and stopped just above her bare shoulders. She wore a gown of satin with slits up to her wide hips. Liquid silver fabric pooled around her waist, and her perky breasts were crushed against the solid frame of Tiernan’s chest. Her arms were coiled around his neck, drawing his mouth close to her own, and on her head was a crown of snowflakes.
“Maeve.” Tiernan’s voice was strangled and raw as he tried to pry the female off of him to no avail.
White-hot fury scalded her from the inside out. Cinnamon smoke clouded the air around them and she swore if she took one more breath, she’d suffocate.
