Page 122 of Realm of Nightmares
She repeated his name in her mind, over and over, willing herself not to forget him.
Rowan stepped forward. “I’ll go with you.”
“No.” Laurel’s hand shot out, anchoring around his arm. “This is something she must do on her own.”
“But…” He swallowed, his face draining of color.
Laurel moved to stand next to him, her fingers wrapped around him like a vise. She nodded toward Maeve. “Go.”
“Thank you.” Maeve looked between them, hating herself for causing Rowan such pain. Such despair. She leaned forward, brushed her lips lightly upon his cheek. “Thank you, for everything.”
She fled the library and rushed out into the misty rain, refusing to look back. She couldn’t bring herself to see the raw agony on Rowan’s face, to see the wounds laid bare in his eyes. Because the truth between them was inevitable.
She was leaving the Ether. And she would never come back.
Tiernan.
Tiernan.
Maeve ran to the House of Death, whispering the name of her mate like a prayer.
* * *
Niahvess was alive.
Tiernan hadn’t seen it so full of joy, so full of energy, since Maeve left. But now, despite the waning beauty of Summer and the constant cast of gray looming overhead, music filled the streets. Again, there was laughter and merriment. Families and neighbors gathered, convening on the cobblestone paths in throngs, all of them eager to see what sort of excitement awaited them beneath the silver and blue striped tents along the outskirts of the city.
The arrival of the trooping fae had brought the promise of a magical afternoon. Entertainment in the form of magic shows, concerts, and other wondrous spectacles. Floating lanterns adorned the sky. Faux flowers created with silk and velvet were draped along every streetlamp, their bright colors a thrilling distraction from the undertone of impending war. Little fae children ran in circles, rainbow lollipops clutched in their sticky fingers. Their smiling mouths were stained purple from too much cloud candy.
Delicious scents from Tiernan’s childhood surrounded him—deep-fried chocolate cream-filled cookies, lemon puff pastries covered in powdered sugar, sizzling mystery meat on a stick. It reminded him of when he was a boy, and the Mystical Spectacular would come to perform.
“It’s just like when we were younger,” Merrick said, accepting a bag of salted caramels from a passing trooping fae. He winked and flipped her a gold coin.
“It is,” Tiernan agreed, biting back a laugh as his hunter shoved a handful of the caramels into his mouth.
He only wished Maeve was here to see it.
“You know those rot your teeth,” Brynn chided. She’d already devoured her stick of grilled meat and was currently twirling the skewer back and forth between her fingers. Her burgundy curls bounced with each lighthearted step.
Merrick muttered some kind of retort, but it was lost in translation around his mouthful of caramel.
“What do you think, Lir?” Tiernan asked, glancing over at the warrior who looked like he was the only one not enjoying himself.
He kept one hand fastened to the hilt of his sword. “I think it’s a diversion.”
“Of course it’s a diversion.” Brynn spun in a slow circle. “No one wants to be reminded of the fact that Faeven is dying. Or that war is on the horizon. Or that our very existence could be wiped out with—”
“That’s enough.” Tiernan kept his tone mild. “We’ll stay for one act, then return to the palace. There’s something we need to discuss.”
Lir’s cool façade shifted into one of concern. “News?”
“Not exactly.” Tiernan hadn’t yet told them about the mural, nor had he mentioned that the goddess of life had overtaken Ceridwen’s body earlier in the morning. “But yes.”
“One act,” Lir muttered, his palpable displeasure diminishing only slightly when a small child offered him a bright smile and a paper cone filled with purple cloud candy.
He grunted his thanks and Brynn laughed.
“What?” she asked, grinning broadly. “You don’t like cloud candy?”
