Page 55 of Realm of Nightmares
“I’m afraid so, my lord.”
Damn.
If Merrick was already back, that could only mean one thing. The will ó wisp was no longer in the Autumn Court.
* * *
Maeve dartedthrough the sky after Laurel as her wings split through the clouds, propelling her higher. Scarlet stained her sleeves, but she didn’t care. As she sifted through the mist, the steady breeze carried her further from the training grounds and closer to the mountains of the east, beyond the House of Death.
Frigid air blasted her cheeks and neck and she braced herself against the stinging wind, following in Laurel’s wake. The fae moved like a violet blur, darting closer to the face of the mountains. Rugged terrain carved up the sky, and heavy snowcapped peaks slashed against the bleak horizon, their rocky edges fringed with solid earth and jagged cliffs. Flurries swirled around her, falling like a thick blanket of lace. The air was thin and with each ragged breath, Maeve felt like she was swallowing shards of ice. Her lungs ached, frozen from the inside out, and her lips were beginning to crack and peel.
Laurel soared overhead, climbing higher, luring her further from the safety of the House of Death.
“Give me back my ring!” Maeve shouted, not even sure if Laurel could hear her over the raucous howling of the wind.
“Come and get it.” Laurel’s cruel taunt came from somewhere off to her left, and Maeve caught sight of the fae flying above her once more, a callous smile spreading across her painted lips.
Maeve scowled.
Tucking her wings, she dove lower, swerving to avoid the lone bristling trees sprouting up from the cliffside. She barrel-rolled, skimming past a treacherous ledge packed with snow, and glanced up.
Laurel tossed a cocky grin over her shoulder, faltering when she realized Maeve was no longer behind her.
Now it was Maeve’s turn to smirk.
She shot straight up, wings beating furiously, then lowered her shoulder, ramming into Laurel with as much force as possible. The female grunted and gasped, taking the full brunt of the blow. Laurel’s wings wavered, unable to find purchase.
In a slow, stuttering descent, she tumbled from the sky.
Alarm slid down Maeve’s spine, but her moment of panic was fleeting. Before she could attempt to rescue Laurel, the fae recovered, hardened resentment etched into the lines of her pretty face. She surged upward in attack, crashing into Maeve.
The impact sent her reeling. Laurel’s shoulder slammed into her jaw. Her head snapped back and tiny white stars danced across her vision. The metallic tang of blood coated her tongue and she spat, ignoring the warmth that trickled from the corner of her mouth down to her chin.
Laurel swung, her fist aiming to collide with Maeve’s face, but she ducked low, swooping out of the way. Maeve whirled, coming up behind the vicious faerie. Laurel spun, but not before Maeve snatched a sword from her waist.
“You want to fight?” Maeve crooned, twirling the blade between them. “Let’s fight.”
Laurel bared her teeth, drawing her other sword in one fluid motion. She wasted no time. Aggression sparked between them as the mid-air assault ensued. Metal clanged as their swords met, vibrating through the heavens like the chaos of thunder.
Blades struck leather and pierced flesh, but the streaks of pain were temporary distractions, nothing compared to the violent high coursing through her. Energy crackled between them, a swell of strained hostility. Together they fought through the thick clouds, clashing like shadows amid a snowstorm. Every swing and strike spurred them closer to the mountain’s devastating face.
Though Maeve’s body ached, though she was battered and bleeding, her wings never tired. They never failed her.
“Is this the best you can do?” Laurel sneered, her teeth stained red from the blood pooling in her mouth. “You’re pathetic. You fight like a mortal.”
If Maeve was someone else, at some other time in her life, she might’ve let the insult cut straight through her. But she’d been raised to fight as a mortal. She’d been born and bred on the training fields, more comfortable with swords and daggers than dresses and crowns. Fighting was in her blood. Winning was her birthright.
If there was one thing she knew about being fae, it was that her magic wasn’t a safety net. It wasn’t a cure, it couldn’t fix all of her problems, and she would never make the mistake of relying upon it again.
Whipping through the ice and snow, Maeve cut down and right. She brought the hilt of her sword down upon Laurel’s wrist. A howl tore from the fae’s throat. Pressing the tip of her blade to the bitchy fae’s heart, she kept her voice low and menacing.
“Give it back.Now.”
Laurel grimaced, her dark eyes glittering like onyx. She yanked the ring off her finger and dropped it into Maeve’s waiting palm.
“Here.”
Her glower faded and all the color bled from her cheeks, leaving her unnaturally pale.Laurel swallowed and flew away, disappearing into the billowing mass of snow and wind.
