Page 108 of Void of Endings
She was fully aware that every pair of eyes in the courtyard watched her, that every soul in attendance would witness the harsh and brutal truth of what it truly meant to be a fae. After all, the rules of magic were ingrained in the land. Like calls to like. Where something is given, something else must be taken. For even magic has a price.
Compassion draped across her shoulders, sympathy grazed her cheek, and the tranquil gentleness that was Ceridwen’s magic helped Maeve remember to breathe.
Tiernan moved closer, gripping her elbow firmly. He would not let her fall this time. Or ever.
Casimir bent his head, and his dark brown hair tumbled forward, blocking his face from her view. With painstaking slowness, he unbuttoned the top four buttons of his vest, exposing his tanned chest. She swore she could hear the beating of his heart, the rushing of his blood, in her ears.
He looked up at her then, and in the deep brown of his eyes, she could see the memories they shared as clearly as if they were in her own mind. The first time he handed her a sword. The first time she made him smile after she nicked his shoulder with a blade. The first time she made him laugh when she punched him in the face. All those recollections from her mortal life flooded through her, making it almost impossible to catch her breath.
Casimir sighed, and when he spoke again, the words were a mantra. The same ones she’d repeated to him, over and over, as a warrior of Kells.
His golden gaze ripped through to her soul. “Aim for the heart and aim true. Do not hesitate. Be swift. Keep it clean. And when you walk away, no matter what?—”
“Don’t look back,” she finished for him, her voice hoarse.
Casimir nodded, and then he smiled, breaking her heart.
Mentor. Friend. Traitor. Survivor. Warrior.
He was all those things, and more.
And then he closed his eyes, waiting.
Maeve’s heart pounded, racing against the constricted walls of her chest. All she was doing was prolonging the inevitable, but goddess help her, if she followed through with this, she would never recover.
She gripped the Aurastone, readying the blade to strike, and her hand trembled uncontrollably. Tears blurred her vision, and Casimir’s face swam before her eyes.
Then a strong arm wrapped around her waist, a sure hand covered her own, helping her to keep the Aurastone steady.
Tiernan.
Her breath hitched. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t kill him. Not Casimir.
Tiernan’s grip tightened on her waist, and he pulled her in close.
Maeve’s stomach heaved.
“On three,” he murmured.
Her knees buckled. “No.”
“Three.”
With Tiernan guiding her hand, Maeve plunged the Aurastone into Casimir’s heart. Magic surrounded them, pouring over them from every direction. Ceridwen’s wrapped around her like a tender embrace, calming her agony. A new magic, one she’d never sensed before, swept in. The scent of it reminded her of winter pine and cold mountains, and it gradually slowed the flow of Casimir’s blood, stopped the beating of his heart to spare him from suffering. Rowan’s shadows emerged, collecting Casimir’s body so he never touched the ground. They rose around him like a wall, shielding his lifeless body from her view.
It was Tiernan who removed the Aurastone.
And when all the magic receded, when it finally faded away, Maeve was empty. Numb. She knew tears spilled down her cheeks, but she couldn’t feel them. She couldn’t feel anything. Something was broken inside of her. It was deep and cavernous, and it carved her from the inside out, leaving her hollow. A shell of who she was supposed to be, a wraith of whatever she was to become.
Tiernan lifted her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. He carried her through the courtyard, his voice rumbling past her cheek, but he spoke in Old Laic. The words were laced with a thick accent, and she was too crestfallen to try to understand.
But she let him take her away, she let him carry her like a child incapable of taking care of herself. Once more, she was back in that cage over the Cliffs of Morrigan, with the angry sea waiting to swallow her whole. Except this time, a pair of golden brown eyes looked up at her from the dark depths of the ocean.
A sob broke free from where it had been lodged inside of her chest, and Tiernan held her tightly, a silent vow to never let her go.
She could only hope it would be enough.
Maeve closed her eyes. In the far off distance, she could almost hear the cries of a fallen faerie princess echoing through the misty mountains.
