Page 98 of Realm of Nightmares
“I learned I needed to do what I must to defend Kells and to keep Maeve safe at all costs.” Saoirse's control wavered and her cheeks flushed pink. “Both of which I failed. Miserably.”
“Fuck,” Lir muttered.
“That’s not true.” Ceridwen reached for her, but Saoirse pulled away. “You protected Maeve, you almost died saving her life. You defended Kells until—”
“Please stop, my lady.” Saoirse stood abruptly, and all the males were on their feet a second later. “I don’t need or want your pity. If you all would excuse me, I’ve had a shit day and an even shittier night.”
Brynn pushed back from the table. “I’ll go with you.”
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“I know this tavern—”
“Lead the way.” Saoirse gestured toward the door of the open-air ballroom.
Dorian nodded toward Aeralie, who rose silently and joined them. He waited until they left before speaking. “I imagine, given her state, that Brynn may need some more muscle to help carry the silver-haired warrior back whenever they decide to come. I doubt she’ll be able to walk on her own by night’s end.”
A valid point.
“Now.” Dorian leaned back and downed the rest of his whiskey. “Let’s discuss Maghmell, shall we?”
“Your Grace,” Tiernan began, “I went because—”
Dorian lifted one hand. “I know why you and Aran went. I would’ve done the same if it meant I could return my daughter from the Ether. In fact, I’m slightly disheartened by the notion that I wasn’t invited to join in on your escapade. All of that aside, what I want to know is what you uncovered.”
“For that,” Tiernan said and glamoured another decanter full of amber liquid. “I think we’ll need more whiskey.”
“Looks like no one is walking anywhere tonight,” Merrick murmured, and light laughter broke loose throughout the ballroom.
They spoke long into the night about all Tiernan and Aran had endured until the stars winked into the midnight sky. He withstood the horrified looks when they described the sea snake and the band offaolanin detail. And he remained calm when he explained the river of blood. Finally, he told them of Danua’s absence, of the will ó wisp, and all she’d been willing to share with them.
At the end of their discussion, Casimir broke the weighted silence that had settled among them. “So, Faeven is dying because Maeve is gone?”
“So it would seem,” Aran murmured.
Lir turned to Tiernan, and he knew what his commander would ask. “Did the will ó wisp say what must be done to bring her back?”
It was the one thing he’d dreaded answering all night.
But Aran spoke up, saving him from the humiliation. “She claimed it must be the will of Maeve’s soul to return.”
“What? That’s absurd.” Dorian jerked forward in his seat, slamming his fist upon the table. “Of course Maeve wants to come home. There’s nothing holding her to the Ether. Her life is here. Her family.” His emerald gaze slid to Tiernan. “Her betrothed…”
Godsdamn. The ache of missing her sliced through him like a blade freshly heated from the forge.
Ceridwen folded her hands in her lap. Smooth and effortless, as usual. “I have no doubt she’ll return.”
His sister’s words gave him a sliver of hope.
Casimir rubbed the back of his neck, then cracked it. “I’m afraid I won't bring much better news.”
Merrick rocked back in his seat and propped his boots on the table. “How could things possibly get any worse?”
Casimir shook his head. “Parisa’s numbers are far greater than those of the remaining three Courts of Faeven. She’s enslaved the Spring fae who were unable to flee, forcing them into making weaponry and armor, chaining them in iron so they cannot rebel against her.”
“Seven hells,” Merrick muttered under his breath. “It got worse.”
Dorian sneered. “I knew I never liked her.”
