Page 23 of Throne of Dreams
Ceridwen stood and her gown rippled around her. “Well, you told me everything I already knew or suspected.”
“But?” Tiernan asked, reaching for his guitar again.
“But you haven’t told me what’s bothering youhere.”
He glanced up to see his sister with her hand placed over her heart.
“What is it, Tiernan? What’s wrong?”
His fingers moved over the strings, thrumming the chords of a painful melody. The one he wrote for a fierce faerie princess. The tune filled his room and the hauntingly beautiful notes lingered in the quiet.
“It’s her,” he murmured.
“Maeve?” Ceridwen’s brow furrowed. “What about her?”
“It’sher.” Reluctantly, Tiernan met his twin’s gaze. He let her see past his armor, past the shield he’d built to protect himself from his past mistakes, from his weakest, most unforgivable moment. He let her into his soul. Into his aura. So she could see firsthand this fresh hell he suffered. Unable to speak the wordsirra, he whispered his torture in the form of a song.
“Born of fire,smoke, and Autumn’s last breath,
I thought to n’er see one so lovely as she,
But in shadows, death he waits,
To trick the stars, and lure the fates,
And forever, all will be lost unto me.”
Ceridwen’s handsflew to her mouth. Crestfallen, tears slid from the corners of her eyes. “Oh, Tiernan. You have to tell her.”
“I can’t.” He continued to strum his guitar mindlessly. “It’s too dangerous. There’s no way of knowing when the god of death will call in his end of our bargain. The more distance I keep between us, the better.”
“That’s not fair. To either of you,” Ceridwen said. “If she’s fated to you, she deserves to know.”
“Trust me,” he muttered. “I can assure you it’s the last thing she wants to hear.”
Being his soulmate was a death wish.
Beside him, Ceridwen shook her head in disagreement. Tiernan didn’t want her sympathy, but the sound of his sister’s heart breaking for him carved out a piece of his soul.
ChapterEight
Onboard theAmshir, Maeve found herself once more inside Aran’s map room. It was still as lovely as ever. She enjoyed the way the glass orbs in Autumn colors danced overhead, suspended by nothing but magic. On his desk were what looked to be bookmarks. Intricate designs were hand-painted upon the finely woven silk. They were long and tapered with beaded tassels. Displayed beneath a watercolor map of the realms, a number of little trinkets rested upon a wooden shelf. One in particular caught her eye.
It was a little black box and cushioned inside a tuft of crimson velvet was a marble. It was larger than most and filled her palm. But when she held it up to the light, her breath caught in the back of her throat. Captured inside the ball of glass was a perfect replica of the Autumn Court. She could see the snowy, white-barked trees with their leaves of crushed crimson, burnt gold, and flaming orange. If she shifted the marble in her hand, the Court inside moved with her, roving over the forest and showcasing the deep sparkle of the Black Lake. In the distance were the mountains rising to the east, barricading the palace and all of Kyol. For a split second, she thought she saw movement by the lake. But she blinked, and it was gone.
A petite fae wearing the colors of Autumn entered the map room carrying a platter of spiced pumpkin tarts and two bowls of stew. Maeve’s mouth watered. She carefully set the marble back onto the velvet, but not before she noticed the engraved words on the underside of the box’s lid.
“Aran?” She peered over at him as he nodded to the fae, who set down the tray and left without saying a word. “What is Belladonna’s Atelier?”
“Belladonna’s Atelier is a little shop I found during some of my travels.” He moved toward the table where the fae deposited the food, gesturing for Maeve to sit. A smile played along his lips. “She’s quite the…character.”
Maeve’s brows rose, intrigued. “She?”
He shook his head, then pulled out a chair for her. “It’s nothing like that. Belladonna is only a friend. She just happens to own a mesmerizing shop filled with all kinds of magical things.”
She smirked, grabbing a pumpkin tart from the tray. “If you say so.”
“I do.” His smirk mirrored her own. He brushed his auburn hair back from his face and his gaze focused on her. “So, tell me more about the Scathing.”
