Page 140 of Throne of Dreams
“Maeve!”
She barely had time to glance over her shoulder before Tiernan was there, scooping her into his arms and cradling her against him.
“It’s going to be okay, astora.” The deep timbre of his voice was a balm to her shattered soul.“I’ve got you…I’ve got you.”
But Maeve felt nothing. Because she was no one.
ChapterForty
Tiernan had never seen Maeve full of so much despair.
She sobbed in his arms as he carried her into his bedroom. Her tears were silent, except for when she struggled to get air. Then her breathing would hitch, her eyes would go wide, and her shoulders would tremble as she continued to cry. She was breaking. She was falling apart in his arms, and he wasn’t sure if he would be enough to put her back together.
Maeve stood motionless while he slowly undressed her, while he removed the leathers and leggings soaked in Shay’s blood. In her brother’s blood. Carefully, he lifted the hem of her blouse, and she raised her arms, letting him tug it over her head. But her gaze wasn’t on him. She was looking past him, lost to her own torments. The necklace he gave her overwhelmed him with a swell of emotion. Regret. Grief. Sorrow. Agony.
Her feelings destroyed him.
He would have to hurry if he wanted to bring her back.
Tiernan stalked into the bathroom and turned on the bath. Once the temperature was hot enough, he added some soothing rose oil and some bubbles. While the tub filled, he returned to the bedroom and took Maeve by the hand.
“Come along,astora.” He traced little circles over the back of her hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
She didn’t move. Her gaze, desolate and empty, flicked to him.
“Okay.” He scooped her into his arms, grateful when she didn’t fight him, when she didn’t tense or stiffen. He nudged open the bathroom door with the toe of his boot, stepped inside, then gently lowered her into the steaming tub of silky bubbles.
Maeve sat there and curled her knees into her chest, resting her cheek upon her knee so her hair tumbled around her. Red lined her eyes, and her lids were swollen, surrounded by thick, damp lashes.
If she wouldn’t speak freely to him, then he would have to extend his hand first to bring her back. Tiernan started by trickling warm water over her skin, then doing the one thing he knew would reach her.
He sang.
“In the before,there was a goddess of lore
Whose soul was resplendent and pure
But her heart, it would ache and often times break
Till she thought it more than she could ever endure.
Though radiant as the sun,she saw herself undone
Tormented by her past, the terror and the strife
But she will rise and burn bright, far brighter than sunlight
For she is passion, eternal love, this queen of life.”
Maeve’s waterygaze met his. “Tiernan.”
The pain in her voice nearly broke him. Then she shattered. She cried out his name, over and over, her body convulsing, shaking from the agony of her grief. He climbed in the tub with her, fully clothed, and pulled her trembling form into his arms. She collapsed against him. Her head fell against his shoulder as she wept, releasing everything she’d fought to ignore. Every loss. Every death. Every shred of torment. She released all of it, and Tiernan swore his own heart broke. For his Strand burned hot, reaching for the other half of his soul that was lost in a well of sorrow.
* * *
Maeve had finally broken.
When Shay died, her heart splintered. She crumbled, she crashed, unable to spare herself from the impact. She shattered; the fragments of her soul lay all around her like shards of a smashed prism. Incandescent. Reflective. Capable of casting thousands of rainbows. But useless if not fully whole.
