Page 35 of Realm of Nightmares
Rowan matched the god’s sinister glower but said nothing.
Stabbing pain lanced through Maeve’s finger, and she yelped.The healer was vigilant, taking great care to try to remove Maeve’s ring without taking her finger with it.Nausea heaved in the pit of her stomach and her skin slicked with sweat. Her head fell back against the pillows as she bit down on the urge to vomit.
“I’ll hold on to it for you, okay?”
Maeve could only nod as Rowan held out his hand, and the healer placed her ring in his palm. She watched as his fingers closed around it, the sunburst setting and the gem that shone like twilight vanishing from her sight.As soon as her finger was healed, she would ask for it back. That ring was a part of her.
With every pinch of the needle into her flesh, Maeve winced. Her chest was hollow. Each breath grew stagnant until finally her finger was reattached, and a gentle swell of numbness edged some of the pain away.
“Maeve?”
She looked up at Rowan, worried that if she opened her mouth, she’d puke.
“You’re looking a little green.”
She sank lower into the comfortable bed, and she released a shuddering sigh.
Aed grabbed a fur throw from the back of a chair and draped it over her, a fire igniting in the hearth as he tucked it around her.
Laurel, however, was the only one in the room who didn’t really seem to give a damn. Restlessness cascaded from her. She paced, the pointy tips of her manicured nails tapping impatiently against the wooden mantel surrounding the fireplace. “You can’t tell me we’re not going to talk about this?”
“Laurel…” Aed’s tone was ice.
“This cannot be ignored!” She pointed an accusing finger in Maeve’s direction. “I know what Isaw.”
It was enough to snare Rowan’s attention. “What did you see?”
“It was an accident.” Maeve was overcome with the sudden urge to crawl under the throw and disappear. “It won’t happen again. I can control it.”
“Can you though?” Laurel scoffed, her deeply painted lips pressing into a thin line. “Because if I hadn’t shown up to save your ass, you wouldn’t evenbehere.”
Curls of power emanated from the god of death, shuddering through the room. “Enough, Laurel.”
Rowan spread his arms wide, annoyed. “Does someone want to tell me what the hell is going on here?”
Maeve squirmed, and Laurel looked to Aed, expectant.
He sighed, sent the healer away, and once the door closed soundly behind her, he drew himself up to his full, intimidating height.
“It would appear,” he drawled, an undercurrent of irritation staining his words, “that our little Dawnbringer split open the realm.”
Rowan whipped around to face her. He kept his expression schooled into one of total neutrality, but when he spoke, there was something that could’ve been mistaken for awe—or horror—in his voice. “Is this true?”
She tugged the blanket up to her chin. “Yes.”
He turned away from her then, addressing the god of death. “How is that possible?”
Aed settled into one of the chairs by the fireplace and stretched his legs out, tossing one ankle over the other. Rubbing his temples with his fingers, he inclined his head toward the chair beside him. “Have a seat, Nightweaver.”
* * *
Rowan satdown in the chair across from Aed. His frame was stiff and his posture entirely too formal. He looked as though he was preparing to receive a lashing or to hear some sort of devastating news.
Laurel stood by the window now, refusing to face them. Her gaze focused on the endless night of the Ether.
But Maeve was no fool.
In the reflection of the glass, those eyes that sparkled like black diamonds were trained on her.
