Page 40 of Realm of Nightmares
He studied her, his gaze intensifying, but said nothing.
“You can’tfadeanymore.” A fuzzy memory clicked into place, one she didn’t want to remember. “You traded your ability.”
It was more of a statement than a question, but he answered her anyway. “I did.”
Curiosity piqued, she leaned forward. “For?”
“For you.”
Maeve’s heart lurched as the image of Rowan flying through the air with her broken body in his arms infiltrated her mind. “That’s not fair.”
“But it’s true.” He said it so easily, like he hadn’t given up part of his power for her. “I made a deal with the god of death. If he allowed me to save you that night in the Spring Court, I’d give him my ability tofade.”
“And then you died,” she choked out, a knot of emotion gathering in the back of her throat. Unbidden tears sprung to her eyes, and she swiftly blinked them away.
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Rowan flashed her a dazzling smile. He spread his arms, palms up, leaning back in his chair. “In the flesh. Same as you. I saved your life in the Spring Court, and then Aed saved mine. He brought me to the Ether to recover after the attack.”
After swords fell from the sky like lightning.
Curiosity gnawed at her. She grabbed her cup of coffee as a distraction, preparing herself to ask the one question that had been plaguing her since her arrival in the Ether. “Why are you here, anyway?”
“I’ve stayed in the Ether to train, to take my place as the Nightweaver.” The humor fell away and his grin faltered. “How long I remain here is uncertain. My fate is not yet decided.”
Maeve cringed inwardly. That sounded terribly ominous.
Seconds bled by into minutes until she finally huffed out a breath. “I feel like I should be doing something.”
Rowan finished his coffee, then stretched back, wrapping his hands behind his head. “What do you want to do?”
She shrugged, tapping her fingers incessantly along the edge of the table. “I don’t know.”
“I’d suggest training.” His gaze raked over her. “But you’re still recovering.”
Disregarding the twinge of restlessness firing through her, she changed the subject. There was something, or rather,someone, who was definitely bothering her.
“Who’s Laurel?”
Puzzlement fogged Rowan’s eyes. “You know who she is.”
“Yes, I know I’ve met her.” Maeve waved one hand dismissively through the air. She leaned across the table, keeping her voice low. “But whoisshe?”
His lips turned down into a scowl, and his jaw tightened. Aggravation tensed his shoulders, and it became very clear to Maeve that Laurel was the last person Rowan wanted to discuss. He rolled his eyes to the faerie lights floating above them.
“She’s a rude, obstinate female with a flair for expensive things, who takes great pleasure in the misery of others.”
Maeve couldn’t help it. She smirked. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
His brows rose at the implication. “That's all I’ve got.”
“When she showed up in the alley last night and saved me,” she whispered conspiratorially. “She had this weapon. It was like a void of some kind. Absolute nothingness.”
She failed to mention it terrified her.
“Ah.” Rowan pressed his lips together, nodding once. “The Key to Oblivion.”
Her mouth fell open, and she blinked in disbelief. “It’s a key?”
“More or less.” He rocked his chair onto its back two legs, keeping his gaze level with her. “The Key to Oblivion was crafted by the old gods from obsidian and infinite power. It is capable of waging wars and will only answer to the one worthy of wielding it.”
