Page 15 of Realm of Nightmares
She sniffed her drink, and the scent of whiskey caused her nose to tingle and burn. An image flooded her mind. She was onboard theAmshirwith Tiernan, Aran, and the Furies. They were all foolishly drunk and laughing the night she learned Aran could finally return to Faeven. To Autumn. Except he’d set sail on a mission not long after, and she’d never been given the chance to say goodbye.
Just as quickly as it came, the memory dissolved.
“What are you thinking about?” Rowan’s baritone was barely a whisper in the space between them.
Maeve shook her head, then swallowed her whiskey in one gulp, wincing as it scorched the back of her throat like liquid fire.
“Nothing,” she croaked.
Rowan lowered himself into the chair next to hers and propped his ankles up on the table. He held the base of the shot glass in his hand, twirling it idly. “You’re not really considering going to Diamarvh, are you?”
“No.” The word spilled from her lips too quickly. “Of course not.”
His lavender gaze slid to her. “Would you tell me if you were?”
“Yes.” The sound of her voice came out far more unsteady than she anticipated.
Rowan angled his head toward her, so a swath of teal hair fell in his face, covering one eye. Then he flashed her a devastating grin. “Liar.”
* * *
Tiernan burstthrough the doors to his library.
“We searched, Your Grace.” Lir’s voice floated from somewhere behind him. “There’s nothing here to explain why Faeven is dying.”
Tiernan refused to believe it.
“Impossible,” he muttered, more to himself than to Lir.
If the Four Courts were failing, there had to be a reason. He knew an explanation hid somewhere in this library. Whatever was happening to Faeven was a vastly different kind of magic than when Carman reigned and all the Courts fell to the Furies. No, this was something else entirely. It caused the hairs along the back of his neck to prickle on end and left him with an agonizing feeling of emptiness, an unsettling sensation of apprehension.
Stacks of books were piled on every surface, many of them spread open, the pages clearly marked. Scattered papers were sprawled on most of the tables, with notes scribbled in scrawling ink. There were near-empty bottles of ink and candles melted down to nothing but pools of wax.
They had indeed searched for answers.
But not everywhere.
The darkened alcove housing some of the most ancient tomes remained undisturbed.
He moved closer, standing before it. A ripple moved between the space, holding the seam of his timeworn magic together.
Lir stood beside him, looking back and forth between him and the wall of seeming nothingness. “My lord?”
“Here.” Tiernan dispelled the glamour, then looked to his second in command. “This is where we will find the answers we seek.”
Lir stepped forward, but Tiernan threw his arm out, halting him.
“I’ll retrieve them.” Cold air expanded around him, seeping through the glamour, as though the space itself had taken on a life of its own. His breath misted in front of him as dark power hummed, stirring his senses. “These books, they’re sentient.”
They possessed their own minds and were capable of producing ideas and thoughts. The only words ever inked onto their pages were truths told through time, written through their own sort of antiquated magic.
It was one reason why he’d been slightly taken aback when theLegends of the Pucapresented itself to Maeve.
Tiernan moved closer to where the rows of books stood upon a black wooden shelf. Their bindings were frayed, the leather cracked and worn. A thin layer of dust had settled on the covers, obscuring the titles. They sat untouched, save for theLegends of the Pucawhich possessed the remnants of Maeve’s fingerprints, cloaked in the magic of before.
He reached out, selecting a burgundy book with ornamental script etched along the spine. The words were in Old Laic, nearly unrecognizable, and he wiped his hand across the front cover, smearing away the grime. Embossed lettering rose beneath his fingers, the gold ink faded from decades of neglect. He carried it over to a table and Lir shoved aside the other piles of books and stacks of paper to clear a space.
Carefully, Tiernan set the tome down and opened it.
