Page 25 of Throne of Dreams
“Only when I must.” Aran watched her, calculating whatever he was about to say next. “We meet fairly regularly on an isle in the Gaelsong Sea, off the coast of Veterra.”
She definitely wanted to learn more about that.
He pointed an accusing finger in her direction. “Don’t even think about it, Maeve. I know that look in your eye. Save for me, the Dorai are off limits to you.” He barged on the second her mouth fell open in protest. “And I know you hate being told what to do, so consider this a plea from your big brother.Do nottry to seek them out.Do nottry to learn more about them. Nothing good will come of it, do you understand? If there is anything you want to know, then you come to me first.”
Damn it. He was too incredibly smart for his own good.
“Well, then—”
“No.” He held up one hand, silencing her. “Promise me right now that you will do as I ask.”
Her shoulders dropped but she relented. He was her blood, and she couldn’t refuse him.
“Okay. I promise.”
He watched her for a few moments longer, waiting, knowing there was more on her mind. She caved beneath his penetrating gaze.
“Do you by chance know where the Furies went? Apparently, they vanished after I…after I was taken.”
After she was stolen to Spring by a man she trusted.
After she was tortured in a cell.
“After Casimir brought you to the Spring Court,” Aran chose each word with care, “the Furies took to the Moors. With no cause, with no direction or orders to follow, they’re just lost souls.”
There it was, the confirmation she needed. The Furies would do her bidding if she asked.
Aran lifted one brow. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking I have to go back. To Kells. I have to put an end to the Scathing. I have to find Balor, Tethra, and Dian and return with them to Faeven. Their power is exceptional, and I know the Four Courts will not look kindly upon their return, but they will be undermyrule.” She sat up straighter, ready to defend her response, but Aran didn’t argue. “And I have to try and convince Saoirse to come back to the Summer Court.”
“Ah.” The corners of his mouth lifted into a slow smile. “So, the illustrious warrior lives. Tell me…is she well?”
“As well as possible, given—wait.” Maeve studied her brother’s face. While he seemed determined to keep his emotions in check, there was no mistaking the glint in his eyes. “Do you have a thing for her?” she teased.
He shrugged and feigned nonchalance. “Call it what you want.”
Maeve tucked that little bit of information away to use as ammunition when it came to convincing Saoirse to return to Faeven with her. Perhaps the possibility of a High Prince of Autumn waiting for her would be enough to do the trick.
“If I can bring her back, you’ll be the first to know.”
He sat back in his chair with his legs propped up on the desk and one ankle crossed over the other. Easing back, he ran his thumb along the cleft in his chin and absently traced the scar there.
“How’d you get that scar?” she asked, knowing he might not tell her but secretly hoping there was a chance.
He grinned. “I fell out of a tree.”
Maeve blinked. “You what?”
“I was playing in the forest with Garvan and Shay. We were younger then, reckless and foolish, still in the prime of our youth.” He tucked his hands behind his head. “Anyway, Garvan had this great idea that we should go tree jumping.”
“Tree jumping,” she repeated, and though she wanted to focus on the story, a small part of her was distracted by the mention of their first years. When they were young and Fianna was still a part of their lives. When they were still a family. She had a hard time imagining Garvan and Shay as carefree faerie princes who were simply too caught up enjoying their youth to worry about pressing matters like war.
“It was a sport Shay made up.” He sat up straighter, ready to explain. “Basically, we’d just gotten our wings and were learning how to use them, as well as learning how tofade.” A smile lifted the corner of his mouth, like a memory. “Shay had the brilliant idea that we should jump from the tops of the trees. We were supposed tofadefirst and if we couldn’t do it, then we’d resort to our wings.”
It absolutely sounded like a game made up by a bunch of immature males, and she couldn’t wait to hear more.
“Obviously, because I’m the oldest, I had to go first.”
