Page 94 of Void of Endings
Maeve winced as she spun around, pressing her back to Casimir’s. She squinted through the sheets of rain as more fae ambled toward them.
“Sun and sky,” she murmured. “How many lives did she ruin?”
“Too many.”
Casimir would never admit it, but she knew his words were laced with a deeper implication.
Together they fought, back to back, as they had done so many times before. He hooked her arm, tossing her smoothly across his back, and she staved off an assault from the other side.
“I’m sorry,” he grunted, stabbing a fae who drew too close.
“I know.” Maeve ducked low, avoiding the swipe of a blade as it cut through the rain above her head.
“If I had known?—”
“Let it go, Cas.” Maeve mimicked the movements of her former mentor, spinning with him as they switched positions. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t take her eyes off of their opponents, but if she could…she knew what she would see within the depths of his brown gaze.
Remorse.
“We’ve all done something we regret in the name of love.” Her breath whooshed out of her as she cut down another fae. Maeve’s own words were not lost on her. “Holding a grudge against you will only harden my heart.”
“I should have fought for you,” he countered, his sword catching the glint of lightning as it streaked across the darkened heavens.
“You’re fighting for me now.” She jabbed low, slicing upward across the front of the final attacker. Warm blood splattered against her cheek and she startled, sucking in a harsh gulp of stagnant air.
“Release the traitor!” Parisa called out, her saccharine voice tinged with exasperation.
Rowan’s cage disappeared and he rushed over to join them.
“Your back,” he demanded. “Let me see your back.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Your shirt is soaked in blood.” He grabbed her shoulders and turned her away from him, and she swore when he peeled away the section of her blouse that stuck to her skin. “Don’t lie and tell me it’s nothing.”
Maeve swatted at him. “I’ll heal eventually. I always do. But we don’t have time for this…”
She stilled as more figures entered the arena.
“Seven hells, how many more are there?” Casimir muttered, raising his sword.
Dozens of dead bodies were strewn around the massive space already. Blood soaked the ground, so thick it squished beneath Maeve’s boots when she moved, and not even the rain was enough to wash it away. Her stomach roiled, and she attempted to swallow the lump of dread lodged in the back of her throat.
But these fae were…different.
Maeve stared across the distance separating them, watched as they huddled together, soaked and freezing. Stepping forward, she sheathed her dagger.
“Maeve,” Rowan warned, snaring her wrist. “You’ve done so well. I know this hasn't been easy for you, but you cannot quit. You can’t give up. Not to her. Not ever.”
She shook her head. “No, Rowan. Something isn’t right. Look at them. They’re not like the others.”
His hold on her loosened as his lavender gaze scanned the group of fae standing across from them. There were approximately ten in total, and they were all clustered, clinging to one another, seemingly frozen in place. “They’re not poisoned.”
Maeve clamped one hand over her mouth.
“How can you tell?” Casimir asked, his sword still raised, his gaze wary.
“Their eyes.” Rowan nodded his head in their direction, and droplets of water fell from his deep teal hair. He ran a hand through it, shoving it back from his face. “They’re still in control of their minds.”
