Page 116 of Realm of Nightmares
Tiernan rocked back in his chair, propping his feet up on the table before him. On its hardwood surface were many books, some stacked, others flipped open to random pages detailing the history of the fae. After his experience in the river of blood, he’d wanted to ensure his speculations were correct. So far, he’d found several tomes proving his theory that all the deaths, all the agony and pain he’d borne witness to within the river, were of those who’d lived before him. The battles and bloodshed, all the events that had overwhelmed him, nearly drowned him, were all accounted for in the histories. Many of them were in theSyol Lorhr.
Save for the candle on the table that was melted down to a puddle of wax and the two sconces lit with faerie light, the rest of the library was draped in shadows.
He’d never been afraid of the dark before, not even as a child, but here, in the preternatural stillness of the library, the past came to life. It didn’t matter how much he tried to focus on reading another passage, the words would glaze until they meant absolutely nothing while his memories haunted him. He’d catch the faintest whiff of Maeve’s scent lingering in the air. Or he’d hear her voice whispering between the pages of a book.
“Damn it.” His voice was too loud for his own ears. “Why can’t I reach her?”
He tucked his hands behind his head and rocked the chair back onto two legs. His gaze drifted to the mural overhead. Its murky colors swirled and shifted, stretching, then rushing back together again. It hadn’t depicted a real image or scene in what felt like a lifetime.
“What am I missing?” he murmured. “Show me what I’m missing.”
As if on command, the mural glimmered, its colors vibrant once more. Mountains took shape, a path forged between them, along with what looked like silver swirls of thick fog.
The Pass of Veils—a treacherous mountain pass, the dwelling of the giants.
Tiernan jolted, sending the chair flying out from under him, so his ass hit the ground before his head.
“Sun and sky,” he breathed.
The mural was sentient.
ChapterThirty-Four
Vow of the Guardianhad been easy enough to find and Maeve was furious with herself for not realizing it sooner. Rowan had taken her to the library in the Ether and plucked it right off the shelf not even ten minutes later.
“Ridiculous,” Maeve muttered.
“What is?” Rowan asked while thumbing through a book whose cover featured a castle covered in rose vines and what looked like a mangy beast.
“This whole thing.” Maeve dropped the book onto the coffee table between them and crossed her arms, a flare of annoyance firing through her. “Why would Laurel tell me the book was in Diamarvh when it was here the whole time? When she could’ve just come and retrieved it herself?”
Rowan didn’t look up from his reading. “Who knows the ways of the female mind…”
Maeve huffed.It wasn’t really an answer, but she couldn’t fault him for the truth in such a statement.
Rain had once again started to fall. Tiny drops slid down the glass panes of the windows, blurring the outside. Rowan settled into one of the large leather chairs. In one hand he held a book, with the other, he motioned toward the table. A cup of hot tea appeared, along with a mug of steaming coffee and beside it, a tiny bowl of sugar cubes. Fire sparked to life in the hearth, warming the space. His gaze flicked to hers in silent invitation, then returned to the story he held in his hands.
The frustration drained from her a moment later. Itwasperfect reading weather.
“Well, since we’re here…” Maeve glanced toward the staircase that spiraled up to the old apartment where she stayed when she’d first arrived in the Ether. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to read.”
“Practically painless,” he murmured, “depending on your choice of genre, of course.”
“Of course,” Maeve agreed. “It’s been some time since I’ve read a book for pleasure and not research.”
He flipped a page, nodding. “Pick your poison.”
“Where are the fairy tales?” She hesitated for only a second before adding, “With romance?”
He pointed to the second level without sparing her a glance.
“Right.”
Maeve climbed the stairs, her mind made up on finding a lighthearted story with a splash of romance. She wanted something that would transport her to another world, something that would fill the ever-growing sense of emptiness inside her. On the second level, she browsed the selection of stories at her disposal. There was a book about a woman who refused a man because he was far too prideful, and another told the tale of three siblings and a land full of magic. But as she perused the vast selection, carefully letting her fingers trail over the leather-bound spines, a book with a pale pink cover caught her eye. It was embossed with gold lettering and painted on the front was a darling castle set upon a hill.
She opened it slowly, relishing the feel of the parchment between her fingertips, inhaling the scent of ink, ofbooks.
This particular fairy tale was about a prince who rescued his beloved, a princess, from a sleeping curse.It sounded painfully romantic.
