Page 26 of Void of Endings
Tiernan slid his arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him. She gazed up at him, and he knew if he stared for too long into those sea-mist eyes of hers, he’d drown.
“Who won?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
Maeve’s smile left him breathless. “Me.”
“That’s my girl.”
Tiernan tucked her head beneath her chin, holding her close, andfadedthem to the Vista.
Maeve stoodon the small balcony of the Vista, overlooking the border of Summer, the jeweled forests of Autumn, and in the far distance, the rugged snow-capped mountains of Winter. Afternoon sunlight dripped over every surface of Faeven, dousing the land in a wash of gold. The Vista was perched on one of the Summer Court’s outlying mountains, and here there was a distinctive chill in the air as the falling leaves beckoned her, whispering her name.
She tugged her satin robe around her, shivering.
Freshly showered, she inched further out onto the balcony and inhaled, breathing in the faint scent of the sea as it mingled with aged oak and damp earth.
She felt Tiernan’s presence the moment before his arms came around her waist. Tipping her head back, she rested against the length of his body, content with the solace of his embrace.
Maeve glanced down to her left hand, where the ring she wore glinted a deep blue, then flashed to a cool violet, twinkling in the sun. She ran her thumb beneath the solid gold band, remembering the moment Tiernan asked her to be his wife, right before Parisa attacked them. A wedding seemed like such an insignificant celebration when their very lives were at stake.
“I don’t want my own Court,” she announced softly.
“What do you mean?” Tiernan nuzzled her neck, pressing his lips to where her pulse beat solely for him. “There’s plenty of space to build?—”
“No,” Maeve interrupted, turning in his arms so she faced him. She looked up at him, admiring the strong line of jaw, his prominent cheekbones, his broad, bronze chest. “I mean, I don’t want to be separated from you. I want to live in Niahvess. With you. I don’t want my own palace or throne. I want us to build a life together, assuming we ever get the chance.”
She hadn’t intended to say those last few thoughts out loud, but it was too late to take them back. They hung in the air between them, floating on everything else that was left unsaid.
Tiernan ran his thumb along her bottom lip, gliding his hand beneath her chin. In his eyes, she saw everything she ever wanted. “You are not alone in your fear, and if you feel that you are, then give it to me. I will take all of it. Your worries, your despair, your suffering. I will be the boulder upon which you place your burdens.”
He kissed her, speaking his next words against her mouth. “Let me carry them for you.”
The familiar sting of tears pricked at the corner of her eyes. She hastily blinked them away, willing them not to fall. Not here. Not now. “It’s more than that.”
“Then tell me,” he urged, threading his fingers through her loose curls.
“What if we lose this?” Maeve looked away from him, staring out over the vast expanse of Faeven, where wonder and magic lived and breathed. “What if we lose all of it? Us. The war. Niahvess. Everyone who holds a piece of our heart.”
Tiernan watched her carefully, his brow knitting in concern. “Where is this coming from, Maeve?”
She opened her mouth to respond, but a breath shuddered out of her instead. The Lord of the Wild Hunt was right, the odds were stacked against them. In the game of fate, they held the losing hand. The illusion from the Stygian Spine haunted her. Each time she closed her eyes, she saw the vision more clearly, the death of those she loved spread over the ruins of a battlefield. The end of her world as she knew it. She could smell the stench of fresh blood, the sooty odor of dwindling fires. But the pang of agony, the grief…tortured her soul.
Danua had told her it could be changed, that Maeve could alter this disastrous predetermination. But she didn’t knowhow. Considering how long it took her to figure out how to get home from the Ether, finding a way to save everyone she loved would be nearly impossible. There simply wasn’t enough time.
Tiernan cupped her cheek, and she leaned into his touch.
“You know I love you,astora. Just as you know I respect you. I will not delve into your mind to discover what troubles you.” He bent forward, resting his forehead against hers. “I trust you will tell me when you are ready.”
Maeve nodded, and her lips found his, soft and warm. The kiss was gentle, a mere brushing of the lips.
“What if we lose?” she whispered again, her fear lingering in the space between them.
Tiernan grasped both of her hands, clutching them to his heart.
“Then we go together.” Determination hardened the beautiful planes of his face. “Knowing we fought for everything we love.”
But it wouldn’t be so easy. Not with Parisa as their enemy. She didn’t want Maeve dead, she wanted her as a weapon. She wanted to control the power of creation, the lifeblood of magic, and she would kill anyone who stood in her way. No, Parisa wouldn’t kill Maeve on a battlefield. That duty would have to fall to someone else.
“Tier?” Maeve’s voice was hoarse. Her heart wrenched inside of her, knowing the severity of what she was about to ask of him. Knowing it would break him.
