Page 84 of Realm of Nightmares
“How you get it is of no consequence.” She flicked her wrist, dismissively waving her fingers through the air. “Steal. Borrow. Acquire. So long as you bring it to me.”
Silencing a groan, Maeve let a slow breath escape from the tight walls of her chest. She couldn’t believe she was even considering doing this for Laurel. “What sort of book?”
“An ancient relic on guarding the realms.”
There was no taunting in her voice. No vicious sarcasm, no cruel backhanded compliments. Her face was impassive, like it was carved from ivory, smooth and devoid of any emotion. It was all rather matter-of-fact, so much so that Rowan’s theory on Laurel’s existence and her reasons for being stuck in the Ether slid into Maeve’s thoughts.
“Let me guess.” Maeve crossed her arms over her chest, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. “You killed a guardian, took their place, and now you have no idea what you’re doing.”
Laurel’s expression remained somber, but now there was a new fire in her eyes, igniting them to a dark, sparkling black. “So what if I did?”
“Sun and sky,” Maeve muttered. It was damn near impossible to get a single straight answer from her. “If you need this book so badly, why don’t you just go get it yourself?”
Her lips curled into a saccharine smile. “Why risk my life when there’s someone else stupid enough to do it for me?”
The insult triggered something inside Maeve. An inferno of resentment stoked to life by the ember of rage. She was sick of Laurel’s contempt and her blatant disrespect. The female was bold but crass, and rude to the point of vulgarity. It didn’t matter if Laurel had saved her life once before, Maeve refused to stand idly by and deal with her bitter remarks and piss-poor attitude. If she wanted to be a hateful bitch, that was her choice, but Maeve would no longer tolerate her volatile degradation of her personal character.
Maeve pulled her Aurastone, flipping it high overhead. She leapt across the table in one single motion, both lethal and graceful. Plucking it out of the air by the hilt, she curled her fist around it and aimed the tip of the iridescent blade at the base of Laurel’s throat. Furious and fuming, smoking with wild anger, Maeve spoke through gritted teeth.
“Do not mock me. Do not disrespect me.” Maeve’s threat reverberated through her bones, so her voice trembled with the promise of violence. “For if you do, the next time I rip open the realms, I’ll throw you into the darkest, most terrifying one I can find.”
The light died in Laurel’s eyes and she paled, her skin turning from a creamy ivory to a sickly, pasty white. She swallowed. Audibly. “I was only teasing.”
“No, you weren’t,” Maeve snarled. “Insult me again and it will be the last thing you ever do.”
“Fine.” Her voice was pinched and she stiffened. “My apologies, Your Grace.”
Maeve withdrew her weapon, sheathing it, but she did not retreat. She did not back down.
“I’m not allowed in Diamarvh.” Laurel smoothed her hands over her velvet gown, unwilling to meet her eye. “It’s off-limits for my kind.”
Her kind? What in the seven hells did she mean by that?
“TheVow of the Guardianwas taken from me by the one they call Dubhan.” Fear crept into Laurel’s features, hardening the beautiful planes of her face with apprehension.
“Dubhan.” Maeve recognized the name. He was the Lord of the Wild Hunt. “Fine, I’ll find it.”
“We have a deal?” Laurel held out her hand.
Reluctance kept her rooted in place until she saw it, the faint glimmer of hope reflected in Laurel’s eyes. She clasped the fae’s hand. “Deal.”
Magic sparked as a Strand of shimmering violet formed between them. The vibrant color lanced up her forearm, settling against her skin in the shape of a slender dagger piercing the open pages of a book. Laurel tugged up the long sleeve of her velvet gown to reveal the matching Strand marking her arm.
“What’s that?” she asked suddenly.
Maeve glanced down, holding out her arm. “What’s what?”
“This.” Laurel grabbed her hand, flipping it over to reveal the underside of her left wrist. The area of her flesh marked by the twin mountain peaks and the star bursting between them. “What isthis?”
“I don’t know.” Maeve attempted to pull her hand from Laurel’s hold, but the fae didn’t release her. “It just appeared.”
“How long ago?”
Maeve shrugged. “Maybe on my birthday, I think?”
Laurel pressed her thumb against the symbol branding her. “And you have no idea how you got it? You’ve not had any strange dreams lately? Or any kind of…visions?”
“What? No, of course not.” The lie came too easily, and she yanked her hand from Laurel’s grasp, tucking her hands behind her back. “I’m not a seer.” Studying the female, she tilted her head in question. “Do you know what it means?”
