Page 2 of Throne of Dreams
“You’ll be the death of me.”
She hadn’t believed him.
Maeve held her breath and dunked herself beneath the water’s shallow surface. Below, everything was muffled. Her thoughts. Her heartbeat. All of it yielded to the stillness of the lagoon and the vast and absolute nothingness of the sea. When she resurfaced, she stole one greedy, gulping breath, and eased onto her back to float. The water sifted around her and below her, lifting her like she was weightless. A feather among the waves.
She was safe here. These waters weren’t the torrential ocean that pummeled her with fear. There were no angry waves threatening to swallow her, trying to drown her. No, this cove brought a kind of familiarity to her, reminding her of a place that was once her haven—the hidden lake in the Moors. Overhead, sunlight sprinkled in through the gaping opening of the cavern’s ceiling, reflecting rainbows off the timeworn walls.
The beauty and simplicity of it gave Maeve an idea.
She stood and shoved her wet hair back from her face. Peering up at the alcove, she followed the stream of sunshine to where it cast the ripples of water around her in gold. She wanted to capture this moment, she wanted to hold the beauty of the sun against the water in her hands. Closing her eyes, she reached for her magic, for the power she knew flowed through her. It hummed in acknowledgment, a teasing response to her effort. It was right there, just below the surface. A well of magic, a pull of creation, waiting to be touched.
Focused on what she wanted to create, Maeve stretched out her hand so the beams of sunlight wove between her fingers. Trembling, she sucked in a breath and pulled on that power. Her magic sang, bold and reckless, as she molded the luminescence into a golden chain. Warmth exploded inside her and spread to the tips of her fingers. Another breath shuddered from the tight walls of her chest as the magic of creation continued to flow. The tattoos covering her body glowed and shimmered, and she basked in their beauty. Vibrations pulsed through her, so intense her hair lifted from her back and spread out around her like a fan. She bent the radiant light to her will—twisting and weaving, forming it into that of twin mountain peaks, with the sun rising behind them—the crest of the Summer Court.
“You’re trying too hard.” A rough baritone chilled the air around her and Maeve startled, almost dropping the necklace.
“Damn it, Tiernan.” Aggravation barreled into her, and she stiffened. It was one thing to be caught practicing her magic. It was something else entirely to be caughtnaked. Maeve shoved the necklace behind her back and spun around to face the High King of the Summer Court.
* * *
One lookat Maeve and Tiernan almost died.
Fuck, hewantedto die.
He sensed the alarm for his ward around the cove had been triggered, but before he could even respond to it, Lir arrived in a panic, claiming Maeve had vanished from sight. One moment she’d been directly in front of him, then he blinked, and she was gone.
Obviously, she’d been the one to set off the alarm, but what Tiernan couldn’t figure out washow. By all rights and rules of magic, she shouldn’t have been able to see through the glamour he cast around the cove. And she definitely shouldn’t have been able to walk right through it as though it didn’t exist. Yet there she was, standing waist deep in the sea of his personal beach, looking like a fucking goddess.
Ribbons of wet, golden pink hair fell over her shoulders and almost completely covered her breasts. Almost. Between the damp curls, he could just see her nipples and the supple swells of her breasts. It took every ounce of his self-control to force himself to meet her gaze. He didn’t want to be caught staring at the curve of her waist or the flare of her hips. Besides, he’d seen her naked before. Twice, actually. Once when he’d bathed her after she nearly died from being poisoned by a dark fae. And the second time…his blood caught fire just thinking about it. Maeve’s body, once mutilated by Fearghal, the prick of a fae who’d tortured her in the dungeon of the Spring Court, was now covered in rose gold tattoos—tattoos she’d allowed him to paint on her to disguise the scarring left behind.
Tiernan swore under his breath.
The next chance he got, he’d kill the fucking bastard.
Now, Maeve faced him and those sea-swept eyes of hers were focused on his every move. She’d tucked her hands behind her back and probably thought he hadn’t just seen her create a necklace in the shape of his Court’s crest out of nothing more than sunlight and magic. But he’d stood among the shadows of the cave so as not to disturb her. He’d considered calling out and announcing his presence, but then her expression changed, and he knew she’d tapped into the soul magic of the goddess Danua. The power of creation. And he’d never seen anything more mesmerizing, more intoxicating, thanher.
He strolled forward. Lackadaisical. Carefree. The same way he always did when he wanted to piss her off. “What’d you make?”
“Just a necklace.” Her brows knitted together. She held it out to show him. The chain clinked together, twinkling between her fingers. The mountains and rising sun had never looked more beautiful than they did in her hands.
Tiernan nodded. “It’s nice.”
A sigh escaped her, and she rolled her eyes to where sunshine peeked in through the alcove of the cavern. She was pretty when she was angry. And right now, she wasfurious. She was mad he’d discovered her and annoyed that he’d found her naked. He kept his lips pressed firmly together to keep from grinning. He could hear her thoughts like they were his own, a whirlwind through his mind, and though he didn’t dare point it out, she may as well have been screaming at him.
Maeve shook her head. “It’s just a necklace.”
She tossed it toward the shoreline. He snatched it out of the air, then carefully tucked it into the pocket of his pants while she stared at him, wary. Always wary. She never quite trusted him; he’d have to work on that.
Maeve’s hands trailed through the water, back and forth. “It’s useless. It won’t help me defeat an army of dark fae. Or kill Parisa.” She gestured to the space around them. “Or protect my home.”
She paused and his heart thundered, but he kept his face neutral. His expression remained a cool mask of indifference. But she’d said the wordhome. She’d described the Summer Court,hisCourt, as home.
“Niahvess, that is.” She refused to look at him.
Tiernan took her disregard in stride. “Perhaps not, but you’re taking steps in the right direction. You can’t learn how to save the world in a day.” He smoothed down the front of his shirt with his hands and she stiffened. “You’re not me.”
Her eyes turned frosty. “Not yet.”
He smirked, the same dismissive smile he knew irritated and riled her up more than anything else. “You are in control of your magic. It doesn’t control you.”
