Page 63 of Throne of Dreams
Ceridwen draped her arm around Maeve’s shoulders. “I’ve come to pick up my dress for the Sunatalis celebration and to convince Maeve that she needs one as well.”
“Oh, Cer, no. I don’t need another gown.” Maeve waved the notion away. She had plenty, not including the ones she’d just received as a gift from Shay—the ones belonging to her mother. “Besides, you know I prefer leggings.”
“But Maeve,” Ceridwen crooned. “If any occasion calls for a new dress, it’s Sunatalis. Not only do we celebrate the end of summer for the calendar year, but it’s also my birthday. And Tiernan’s.” She clutched Maeve’s hand and leaned in conspiratorially. “Surely you’d want something new for such…festivities.”
Imogen’s eyebrows lifted in surprise at the painfully obvious implication.
Heat spread across Maeve’s chest, all the way up her neck, to the tips of her pointy ears. “I really don’t think a dress is necessary.” She sought something, anything to change the subject. A jewelry display on one of the counters caught her eye. “Maybe a bracelet. Something to match the necklace you made me.”
Ceridwen clapped once. “An excellent idea.”
Grateful for the distraction and pleased she’d satisfied Ceridwen to some extent, Maeve wandered over to the array of jewels spread out on tiers of black velvet while Imogen’s tape measure whirled around Ceridwen. There were a few bracelets made with amethyst, but most of them were aquamarine, sapphire, and other gemstones. Then, tucked behind a stack of bangles, she discovered a bracelet of fiery opals wrapped in gold. It wasn’t a perfect match to her necklace, but it was certainly close enough.
She picked it up just as Ceridwen called out to her. “Maeve?”
“Hm?” She glanced over her shoulder.
“When is your birthday?”
The simple question was a punch to her gut. She tried her best to smile, but the truth was, she didn’t know the exact date. “I don’t know. To Carman, it was never anything worthy of discussion. But Casimir told me he found me when the season of autumn took its final breath.”
“Then you must’ve been born during Samhwyn, the end of autumn right before winter.” Surprise lit the High Princess’s delicate features. “That’s only a few weeks away. We should have another celebration!”
“It’s fine, really.” Maeve shook her head and waved the notion away. It was a kind thought, but the only soul who likely knew the true date of her birth was her mother. And she was dead.
Ceridwen paid for her dress, insisted upon buying the bracelet for Maeve, and then they bid farewell to Imogen. On their way to the outskirts of the city, they picked up a few paper bags loaded with pastries and other baked goods to bring to the Spring fae.
The camp was easy to spot. Large white tents were set up as temporary shelter. There were a handful of small fire pits, plenty of chairs and tables, and even some overhead shower stalls had been installed for their use. A few fae were sorting through bags of donated clothing and goods and handing them out to those in need.
Maeve ducked into the largest tent with Ceridwen behind her. As soon as she entered the space, every fae inside dropped onto one knee before her, from the oldest to the youngest. Unease caused her palms to slick with sweat, but the second discomfort overwhelmed her, a lulling swell of soothing calmness and composure swept over her. Beside her, Ceridwen winked.
“You’re her.” A child fae with springy blonde curls approached Maeve, her crystalline blue eyes wide with wonder. “You’re the Dawnbringer.”
“I…” Maeve stole a glance at Ceridwen, desperate for assistance.
Ceridwen set down her bag of treats and started passing them out. “The Dawnbringer was a demi-goddess who lived in the before, hundreds of years before any being, mortal or immortal, ruled the realms. Legend has it she was the creator of the most ancient fae race.”
“Yes!” The fae girl squealed then carefully accepted the coconut tart like it was a piece of treasure. “The Dawnbringer and the Nightweaver worked together to forge the fae realms, with the help of Danua and Aed. In my studies…well, when I was allowed to study before the Dark Queen banned it, I learned—”
“I’m sorry to interrupt.” Maeve knelt down in front of the girl so they were eye to eye. “The Dark Queen?”
The girl looked over her shoulder at an adult, presumably her mother. The female nodded once and the small girl leaned in close, then whispered, “Parisa.”
Ceridwen and Maeve shared a look. For the first time, Maeve wished Ceridwen shared the same powers as her twin. In a moment like this, speaking thoughts within the minds of one another would’ve been exceptionally useful.
“She banned your studies?” Maeve prompted, and the child’s head bobbed in agreement.
“She did. She outlawed magic and banned education of any kind.” This from the female Maeve assumed was the child’s mother. “She burned all the books.”
Maeve’s heart nearly gave out and her balance faltered. If not for Ceridwen’s arm on her back, she would’ve fallen on her ass.
“She…burnedthe books?” Maeve’s chest ached and her soul cried. So many beautiful words, so many tomes of knowledge, so many stories, lost to the grip of power. “I…I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll destroy her,” a male fae piped up from somewhere in the back.
“You’re the Dawnbringer,” echoed a female. “If anyone can rid the Four Courts of the Dark Queen, it’s you.”
Hesitation clawed down her spine. “I don’t know about that.”
