Page 82 of Throne of Dreams
Plus, his back hurt like a motherfucker.
When Maeve threw him into the cove’s wall, he’d seen millions of tiny black stars. The air had been siphoned from his lungs. Pain had exploded up and down his body. And then she’d shut him out. Her little bubble of protection had morphed into an indestructible shield, and he hadn’t been able to reach her. He hadn’t even been able to speak to her.
And he deserved it.
He deserved all of it.
Tiernan sat upon his throne while the welcome party carried on without him. The outdoor ballroom was in full swing with partygoers drinking his sparkling wine, laughing and acting as though they hadn’t a care in the world, while he sat brooding over the female he’d wronged. Music played as the sun traveled across the sky, but in the distance, thunder rumbled and the storm inside him continued to brew and stir, ready to lash out at a moment’s notice.
He silenced all thoughts around him, tuned them out, and debated on taking control over every soul within his palace walls and sending them all away. But such a feat would expend his magic to no end, render him useless, and he couldn’t afford to let down his guard. A small part of him debated on sneaking into Maeve’s mind, just tocheckon her, and make sure she was well. But now more than ever, he knew she’d kill him if he tried. Of that, he had no doubt.
To his left and right, standing guard, were Merrick and Brynn. Lir had not yet returned with Maeve. His agitation flared, and he rapped his fingers on the glossy, curved arm of his throne.
He hated that she was not by his side.
A shadow fell over him and he glanced up to see Ceridwen staring at him, her eyes alight with a kind of rage he hadn’t seen from her in many years. But she hid it well. She smiled, sparkling in her gown of gold, and waved to anyone who passed by them. She stood next to him, her hands primly clasped in front of her.
“Whatever you did,” she spoke from the corner of her mouth and not once did her perfectly placed smile falter, “I suggest you fix it.”
“I’m working on it,” he ground out. He gestured lazily around the space before them where fae from all the Four Courts mingled, reveling, completely oblivious to his inner turmoil. “I’m a little preoccupied at the moment.”
Her piercing gaze cut to his. “Do better.”
Tiernan entered his twin’s mind.“I’m doing what I can, Cer. I have to be here. You know as well as I do there will be rumors if I walk out.”
She wasted no time firing back at him.“Maeve is more important. She is your sirra, Tiernan. Fix it. Tonight.”
“I will.”
Without another word, Ceridwen spun away and floated down from the dais, the epitome of elegance and beauty.
His sister melted into the crowd, and from the corner of his eye, Tiernan saw Shay approach the dais. The Autumn Archfae was dressed in his finest attire and armed to the hilt. As was to be expected. Even though it was a celebration, there was no such thing as neutral territory within the Four Courts. At least not anymore. He bowed regally and Tiernan nodded in kind.
“Your Grace.” Shay adjusted the lapel of his coat when he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. “Garvan arrives tomorrow.”
Tiernan nodded sharply. “Understood.”
They would be prepared for the Autumn High Prince, and he wouldn’t be allowed to come within arm’s reach of Maeve.
As if sensing the direction of his thoughts, Shay scanned the dais and the ballroom. “Where’s Maeve?”
“Training.” Tiernan bit the word out with a little too much force, and the High Prince’s brows rose in question.
Fuck.
A knowing smirk twisted up the corner of Shay’s mouth. “Pissed off my little sister already, have you?”
Tiernan allowed his gaze to drift. It wasn’t as though he was the only male to ever have female problems. “It’s not the first time.”
“It better be the last.”
Tiernan’s head snapped up, a scowl furrowing across his brow. But the High Prince’s smile had vanished and in its place was a look that promised death.
“She’s my blood.” He pretended to inspect his nails, then brushed them lightly against his coat. “I will defend her at all costs.”
On that, at least, they could agree.
“It was a misunderstanding,” Tiernan muttered.
