Page 25 of Realm of Nightmares
She stared at her hands, toying with the cobalt blue ribbon of her gown. “Eventually, years from now, Maeve will bear your children. They will be your priority, your entire world.”
He understood what she was saying, that at some point, she would blur into the background. Always remaining close while keeping her distance at the same time. However, imagining Maeve, her belly swollen with his child, nearly caused his heart to burst.
“You’ve seen this?” he asked, his throat feeling stuffed full of sand.
“Maybe.” She flashed him a knowing smirk.
Tiernan couldn’t help himself. “How many?”
“Three,” she paused. “Maybe four.”
He almost choked.
“Your auras were made for one another, they blend seamlessly.” She smoothed the folds of her gown so the fabric rippled around her like the small wave of a lake. “It’s only a matter of time.”
For some reason, he felt foolishly happy. More than he had in quite a while.
“What about your most recent vision?” A somber subject, but one he couldn’t ignore. There were too many questions and not enough answers.
Shadows fell across her face.
“Not every foretelling that presents itself to a seer will come to pass.” She wrapped her arms around her knees, pulling them close to her chest. Her gaze was focused somewhere else, far away from them. “Sometimes they’re wrong or misinterpreted. Sometimes they’re a prediction of what could be if the correct course of action isn’t taken.”
She was attempting to placate him.
It wasn’t working.
He crouched before her, meeting his sister at eye level. “How often have you ever been wrong, Cer?”
She pressed her lips together before speaking. “Once.”
He thought as much.
It could only mean one thing. The course they were on now had to be altered. If not, the image of Maeve sobbing over his dead body in a blood-soaked wasteland while Rowan stood watch would become truth.
Tomorrow he would go to the Shadow District. Surely there had to be some fae, some being with a talent for dealing with abstruse gods, who could assist him in finding a means to bring Maeve home.
“I can’t feel her emotions anymore.” Ceridwen’s voice was hushed.
He stood, looking down at her.
“The necklace…it isn’t working.” A tear slipped from the corner of her eye. “Something is wrong, either that, or something there is changing her. And not for the better.”
Tiernan’s gut clenched, and his chest burned like it was coated with acid. He hadn’t realized he could no longer sense her emotions. He’d become so reliant on trying to reach her through their bond, he’d all but forgotten.
Ceridwen blew out a harsh breath. “Can you still speak to her?”
“Yes.”
Barely.
“Her fate is entwined with this land.” She nodded, her eyes taking on that lost, forlorn look again. “We need her to fight with us against Parisa. I don’t think we’ll win without her.”
Tiernan turned, leaned against the railing again, and looked out over the city. A film was draped over Niahvess, smothering it. Bleeding the life from it. “If we can’t save Faeven from the grip of death, there will be nothing left to fight for.”
Ceridwen stretched her legs out as a breeze sifted through the balcony.
“I didn’t realize you were scrying again,” he murmured.
