Page 105 of Realm of Nightmares
“Both,” Merrick said with a smile, but it quickly fell away as his gaze drifted out over Niahvess. “If what Casimir said is true…”
“Then we need to meet with Dorian and Ciara immediately.” They would have to formulate a plan, and quickly. Casimir’s news was troubling indeed. It was one thing to fight a war when you knew your enemy, when you understood the extent of their capabilities. But what Parisa had done to those drugged fae, what she’d inadvertently created, was unlike anything they’d ever faced before. It was another unknown that set his nerves on edge, another obstacle he would have to overcome.
Merrick rocked back onto his heels, running his thumb along his jaw. “Do you think she has that kind of power?” he asked, his voice unusually grave.
“Yes.” Tiernan believed it fully. “We’ll need every warrior, every able-bodied fae to fight with us.”
The hunter inhaled sharply. “How do we beat her?”
Merrick was always so confident, so certain. To hear uncertainty waver his words sent a trigger of alarm racing down Tiernan’s spine.
The truth of it was, he didn’t know how to beat Parisa. He didn’t even know if they would win, but nor did he want to imagine a world under her rule. Surviving Carman’s reign had been difficult enough.
Faeven plunged into darkness when Carman took over. The Four Courts were a wasteland, a desolate arena full of crushed rebellions and shattered dreams. She wielded thevirdis lepatitelike a weapon, magnifying her sorcery, empowering her sons to do her bidding and maintain control. She was vile. Ruthless. Capable of the unthinkable. Her crimes against the fae were brutal and bloodthirsty.
Right before Tiernan had exiled Aran as a Dorai, Carman learned Aran was flying supplies from Kyol to Ashdara, assisting the citizens of Winter’s Crown City. Carman had limited their supply of food and resources because they’d attempted to rebel against her. Ashdara had suffered many casualties and once Carman discovered Aran was aiding them, she set a trap for him, then cut off his wings. It was a gruesome, wretched act. He’d almost died.
“We need the Dawnbringer.” Lir’s words drew Tiernan back from memories of the past.
“No. Maeve isn’t our savior. It’s not fair of us to place our hope for survival on her shoulders.” He wouldn’t allow it, not anymore. It had been wrong of him to assume the only way to defeat Parisa was with Maeve. He would not make her into a weapon, he would not rely upon her to conquer and control. If he did, that made him no better than Parisa, and he would never stoop to her level. “Maeve shouldn’t have to bear such a burden alone.”
“Of course not,” Lir agreed. “But if she can gain the favor of the Wild Hunt, then maybe there’s a chance.”
“A rather slim one,” Merrick muttered, his gaze downcast.
A chance, yes, but though the notion for Maeve to visit the eternal warriors seemed like a good idea at the time, now Tiernan wasn’t so sure. They were still relying on Maeve to tilt the scales to their favor. Unfortunately, the balance remained heavily one-sided. Even with the Wild Hunt, even if they agreed to assist, it wasn’t a guarantee. They needed numbers to win. They needed warriors, hunters, archers, and more Archfae.
Tiernan paced along the balcony, his boots clicking softly against the hard stone. “Do we have any other connections? Anyone who may be willing to stand with us against Parisa?”
“Aran has made his rounds to other kingdoms.” Lir shifted into attention, as though awaiting orders. His back snapped straight, and he stood tall, tucking his hands behind his back. “Perhaps he’s forged an alliance or two?”
“An excellent thought.” Damn, Tiernan almost wished he’d thought of it first. Or better yet, weeks ago. “We need to find out.”
Lir nodded sharply. “Consider it done.”
Merrick stepped forward, mimicking Lir’s stance. “I can ask Ciara to call in a favor.”
Tiernan arched a singular brow, bemused.
“Contrary to popular belief, she’s exceptionally good at maintaining political alliances.” Merrick continued to speak, but there was a distance in his tone. A harbored regret. “When my parents were in power, my mother hosted a ball and invited Archfae from some of the western kingdoms. Ciara was magical. Delightful. She had no less than three proposals of marriage by the end of the week.”
Taken aback, but not exactly surprised, Tiernan vaguely remembered this ball. Ciara had ended their relationship four months prior, not wanting to limit herself or her ambitions to one male. Knowing Ciara remained unwed only meant she’d denied all three of her pursuers. Hopefully, she’d let them down gently.
“Do you think she’d be willing to solicit the assistance of one or more of these former admirers?” Lir asked, curious.
“Assuming she hasn’t burned every bridge, yes.” Merrick nodded, his blue eyes darting back and forth between them with the certainty he’d been lacking earlier. “I know she would.”
Tiernan halted, addressing them both. “Speaking with both Aran and Ciara is our top priority.” Their orders were clear. Understanding the subtle dismissal, Lir and Merrick bowed, then strode away, leaving Tiernan alone with his thoughts.
In the graying light of dawn, he knew he was making the right decision.
Just because Parisa hadn’t attacked yet, didn’t mean she would wait until Maeve returned from the Ether before making a move. There was no more time to waste. Each passing day was a threat. From now on, every minute of every day needed to be spent preparing, readying all forces, acquiring more strength, and fortifying the borders. Because something was coming.
It lingered on the horizon, just out of sight.
An unseen threat. An invisible enemy.
Tiernan could feel it in his bones, in the shift of the air, and when it finally arrived, he would be ready.
