Page 98 of Throne of Dreams
“Physically, Brynn says she’ll be fine. Her shoulder is already on the mend.” Ceridwen’s twilight eyes darkened to midnight and her curtain of blonde waves fell in her face. “Emotionally, I cannot say.”
Merrick sat in the chair opposite of her, his chiseled face clenched in anguish. He cracked his knuckles and surged forward. “I swear to the gods, if I see Garvan again—”
“He’ll regret his first breath,” Lir finished for him.
Brynn strode out onto the balcony, and faint smudges of exhaustion marred the delicate skin beneath her eyes. Healing had taken its toll on her.
Ceridwen turned toward her. “Has everyone left?”
“Yes, my lady.” Brynn’s gaze landed on Maeve. “Shay sends his regrets that he wasn’t able to say goodbye to you in person.”
Maeve nodded. She would’ve liked to have spoken with him more. Maybe even have gotten to know him better. Perhaps Tiernan could arrange a meeting and…
The moment she thought of him, he swooped down and landed on the stone floor of the balcony. There were cuts and bruises all over his face, and blood slid down from the corner of his mouth. His hair was wild and unkempt, sticking up in all directions. Scruff lined his battered jaw and lines of stress tugged at his handsome features. He’d fought for her. Saved her. And now…he wouldn’t even look at her.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, smearing some of the blood there, and his gaze slid to Lir. “I’m calling a meeting now since we’re all in attendance.”
His beautiful wings vanished, and he dropped into a chair as though the weight of all the realms was upon his broad shoulders.
Still, he did not look her way. “Shay informed me tonight that Garvan and Parisa are planning to attack the Winter Court in two weeks’ time.”
Lir crossed his arms. “Can we really trust him, my lord?”
“What choice do we have?” Tiernan gestured vaguely to the north. “If we ignore his warning, we risk seeing Winter overrun by dark fae. But if we show up in force, then we at least stand a chance of keeping another Court out of Parisa’s clutches.”
“What if it’s a trap?” Brynn countered.
Tiernan squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them again, they were focused and clear. “Let’s hope it’s not.”
“This supposed attack,” Lir spoke the words carefully, “this is not the war.”
“No.” Tiernan let his head fall back against the chair. “It’s not.”
“Shit,” Merrick muttered and strummed his fingers along the edge of the table. “I’ll return with my scouts to Spring. To Suvarese. We need to know what she’s planning, what kinds of weapons she’s utilizing.” He nodded in Maeve’s direction. “Especially since he stabbed Maeve with a rather insignificantly sized blade and almost incapacitated her completely.”
Maeve glanced at the wound from the blade. It was still pink and raw, but healing.
“Should I call upon the Furies for assistance?” She directed her question at Tiernan, but he didn’t spare her a glance.
Instead, he stared blankly at the railing and the calming call of the sea beyond. No one else spoke. They all waited for him to acknowledge her, but uncomfortable tension swelled in the space. Stifling and suffocating. He looked so…defeated. Maeve shifted in her seat, uneasy.
She tried again. “My lord?”
Finally, he dragged his gaze to her, and she may as well have been looking at a stranger. His eyes were empty when they landed on her. There was no emotion. No anger or lust. Just a void. He looked at her like he didn’t recognize her, like she was nothing. Like anything that had happened between them over the past few days was nothing but a myth, a story from another time, in another world.
It stole the air from her lungs.
He sighed, dismissive. “Whatever you wish.”
Merrick’s gaze darted between them. “I understand there’s some underlying friction with the two of you, but these are the Furies we’re talking about, my lord. Balor. Tethra. Dian. Destruction, darkness, and death. The last time they set foot in Faeven, we were left in ruination.”
Maeve looked down into her mug of coffee, then drained the entire thing, scalding the back of her throat so it burned and ached.
“You’re right,” Tiernan agreed, angling his body toward Merrick and away from Maeve. “I do think the Furies will be useful against Parisa. But right now, we must focus on the upcoming battle in Winter. For all we know, we may not find the Furies in time. Mer, I want your scouts ready to head out in two days. Take your best and find out any information you can.” Tiernan stood and Merrick followed suit, bowing swiftly before walking away. “Lir, I want every soldier armed with blades of nightshade. Brynn, ready as many healers as you can, then report to your post.”
In a matter of seconds, everyone was standing and moving, knowing exactly what they were supposed to do. Everyone except her.
“Cer, send word to Queen Ciara about the impending attack. She’ll need to ready her army.”
