Page 155 of Throne of Dreams
“Perhaps.” Maeve peered up at him. Moonlight poured over them, dousing half of his face in shadows. “But I didn’t ask them, did I? I just killed them without another thought. It never even occurred to me they might be on our side.”
“You can’t take the blame for this.” Tiernan’s hand fell to her shoulders and he held firm. “You were in survival mode. Had you stopped to ask each one of them whose side they were on, you would’ve lost time to escape. And what if one of them was against you?”
He made a valid point, but the Autumn guard’s words echoed in her ears.
The trail of death you leave in your wake says otherwise.
A shallow breath escaped her, and she resigned herself to her actions. She would do better. She refused to be anything like Garvan.
“And what of Garvan?” Tiernan asked coolly.
“He took the head of the female who aided me.” Just speaking the words out loud was enough to make her stomach clench.
“That fucking prick.” Wrath lined the features of Tiernan’s handsome face. “There is no worse way for a fae to die.”
Maeve didn’t want to think of all the other ways a fae could be killed. So many of them were long and torturous. So many of them were gruesome in nature. She tucked her damp hair behind her ear and looked up at him. “He won’t be going anywhere any time soon. His own guards shackled him in iron.”
“Iron,” Tiernan repeated, slightly stunned.
Now that Maeve was more level-headed and could think clearly, she recalled that iron in any form was extremely harmful to the fae. In a few books, she’d read stories about fae bound in iron cuffs, their magic muted beyond reach, completely inaccessible. The metal made them lethargic, disoriented, almost like they were drugged. It wasn’t the worst situation a fae could suffer, but for Garvan, it still seemed too kind.
“We must recover Dorian, if he’s still alive, or return Aran to Kyol at once.” Tiernan’s arm fell around her shoulder. “Autumn is not a Court that should be without a sovereign for long.”
“Aran has already set sail.” Maeve bit her bottom lip and her gaze slid east, in the direction of her brother. “I know Dorian is out there; we just have to find him. The only real question is how?”
As though in answer, a breeze billowed through the Autumn woods. It whispered through the stiff branches and falling leaves like a song, beckoning her. There was a tug, a gentle pull on her heartstrings. Her blood hummed in response. The trees shifted and swayed, as though the entire Court took a breath and released it on a sigh. Magic permeated the air, ripe with the scent of spice and woodsmoke. Swirling leaves of soft gold and burgundy fell around them, a kaleidoscope of colors. The forest yawned open, revealing a small fox.
Maeve’s chest tightened. Squeezed.
The fox trod toward them, then paused as a crimson mist engulfed him.
Lir bolted to Maeve’s side, his sword drawn. She flung her arm out to halt him. “No, wait.”
The mist amplified, churning, and a figure stepped from the shadows. Early morning sunlight glinted off shoulder-length blond hair threaded with strands of deep auburn. He wore dark brown pants with a shirt the color of rubies. He brushed away some debris from his fur cloak, striding out into the open. Wings of crimson and ivory exploded from his back, stretching and beating as the breeze sifted through the feathers. His face was all hard, chiseled planes, and there was a cleft in his chin. Just like Aran. Power radiated from him. Glowing. Radiant. A crown of golden leaves sat upon his head.
Dorian Ruhdneah, High King of the Autumn Court, had returned.
Ceridwen and Brynn dropped into a curtsy. Merrick and Lir bowed, each of them murmuring, “Your Grace.”
Emerald green eyes locked onto her, and the High King spread his arms wide.
“Alanuhv.”
His voice was rough and gravelly, but he spoke Old Laic and her mind quickly translated the meaning.My child.
Maeve’s breath hitched. A bond blossomed in her heart, connecting her to him. To her father. To her blood. “Papa.”
She darted across the space between them, catapulting herself into his waiting arms. He lifted her off her feet like she was lighter than air, crushing her to him. He was pure strength, the very essence of Autumn, and when he finally set her back down, the torrent of emotion inside her slid unbidden tears down her cheeks.
“Itwasyou,” she sniffled.
“Maeve.” The rich timbre of her father’s voice floated over her. He eased her back and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He slowly hooked one finger under her chin, willing her to look up at him. His callused fingers wiped away her tears. “You have your mother’s eyes.” She grinned up at him. “But you have my smile.”
Dorian pulled her close to him again, and in his embrace, another piece of Maeve’s heart healed. After another moment, he finally released her.
“Your Grace.” Tiernan stepped forward, inclining in head. “Welcome home.”
When Dorian smiled, the entire world ignited. Maeve could easily see why her mother fell in love with him. He clasped Tiernan’s hand. “It’s been some time, has it not?”
