Page 38 of Realm of Nightmares
“She is mysirra.”Just speaking the word caused his blood to burn. His magic turned volatile. Thunder rumbled in the distance, a perilous promise of power. “You have no idea the depth of despair and agony I have suffered, knowing there was not a damn thing I could do to help her.”
His hands curled into fists, his nails digging into his palms. “I will have her back,” he growled.
“You can’t go.” Ceridwen’s eyes flitted over him, above him, as though she were reading his aura. “You’re needed here.”
Tiernan stole a glance at Merrick, hopeful for some scrap of support, but the hunter ducked his head, his hot pink hair falling forward to disguise his regret.
“I’m going. I will not…” He swallowed down the rise of exasperation, his temper increasing with every second he was forced to defend his decision. “I cannot endure another episode like when…”
When Maeve’s surge of terror sent him over the edge.
Merrick shifted, his blue eyes cutting through the tension building between them. “What if Parisa attacks in your absence?”
“And what about the will ó wisp?” Brynn put in, running a hand over her tightly wound curls. Uncertainty warred across her face, her eyes shifting colors so rapidly it was like a kaleidoscope.
“Damn Parisa and damn the will ó wisp!” Tiernan stood abruptly, his chair tipping, then cracking against the stone floor. “I will lay waste to anyone who tries to stop me.”
“Enough!” Color had risen to Ceridwen’s cheeks, and she lurched to meet him, fisting both of her hands on her hips.
“What else would you have me do?” He spread his arms wide, pleading with her to understand. “Maeve is the song within my soul, a tune I’ve heard since I took my very first breath. The longer she is gone, the more keenly the melody between us fades. She is myeverythingand without her…I amnothing.”
Serenity rushed from her, trying to soothe him.
He shook off the sensation, the calming gesture wasted on him. “Do not attempt to placate me, Ceridwen.”
“You are not the only one who feels her loss! I cannot say that I understand your agony because I don’t. Our suffering is not the same. But you are the High King of Summer.” Ceridwen’s bottom lip trembled, but she stood firm. Rolling her shoulders back, she clasped her hands before her, transforming from his tranquil twin sister to daunting Archfae in a matter of seconds.
“Your duty is to your Court.” Her twilight eyes darkened to that of the coming dusk when the time between sunset and moonrise was at its most powerful. “Above all else.”
They stared one another down, the power between them suffusing the air with the crush of provocation.
“We’re doing the best we can, my lord.” It was Merrick who spoke, striving to calm the turbulent seas between him and Ceridwen.
“It’s not enough.” He turned away from them, going to the railing that looked out over the wide expanse of the Lismore Marin. Even the sea was unnaturally subdued, the waves soundless as they met the shore. A haze swept across the horizon, covering the coastline in a thick marine layer, impenetrable by even the strongest of naval ships. His shoulders sagged. “It will never be enough. Not until she is back here with us, where she belongs.”
He leaned out over the railing, pressing his forearms against the cool metal. “Begin the search for the will ó wisp.”
“You’re not coming with us?” Merrick asked, the concern in his question was unmistakable.
“No. I have duties.” He glanced over his shoulder, meeting Ceridwen’s eye. “To my Court.”
Her red lips pressed into a firm line as quiet indignation simmered off her, so fierce the dishes on the table trembled in her wake.
His loyalty to Summer would never waver and Ceridwen was right, his Courtalwayscame first. He would stop at nothing to ensure the protection of his people, including their future queen.
Tiernan would rip through the realms to see Maeve returned to Faeven.
Or he would die trying.
* * *
Alone,Maeve sat at a long ebony table in the dining hall in the House of Death.
It was a grand space with vaulted ceilings and a wall of arched windows trimmed with snowy velvet curtains. Beams of dark wood rose on either side of the ceiling, meeting in the middle where orbs of faerie light danced, the radiance emitting from them similar to a cloudy beam of sunlight. The floor was made of patterned stone in such a deep hue of blue, it looked almost black, and was speckled with flecks of stardust. On the far wall stood a hearth, its gray mantel shaped into a lifeless skull. There a fire roared, offering warmth to ward off the chill of autumn, as white-hot flames licked up into the gaping open mouth of the skeletal frame.
The table was large enough to seat seventeen others, fit for hosting lavish dinner parties, and Maeve felt oddly insignificant with her small plate of biscuits and chocolate dipping sauce.
Her hands curled around the mug of steaming coffee placed before her and she took a hesitant sip. Spicy cinnamon mingled with the rich flavor, sweet yet slightly bitter.
