Page 35 of Void of Endings
“Okay,” Saoirse snapped, spinning out of Lir’s hold. “Butwherein Autumn?”
“I would assume she went to the palace.” Casimir kept his expression even and unbothered. “Considering Garvan is apparently planning to kill their father.”
Saoirse launched herself at the drakon, her dagger aimed to strike true. “You bastard?—”
But again, Lir was faster. This time he snatched her wrist, wrenching it behind her back. She yelped, her dagger clattering against the stone floor. “That’s enough. He’s of no use to us if he’s dead.”
“I’m not going to kill him.” Saoirse huffed out a breath, struggling against Lir’s hold. He pinned her against him, immobilizing her. “I’m just going to cut off every one of his limbs, starting with his cock, until he begs for mercy and admits all of this is his fault.”
Rowan winced and Merrick reared back, cupping one hand over his dick.
“Seven hells,” he muttered, “remind me to never piss her off.”
“If your tongue is as sharp as your blade, I suggest you save it.” Lir’s tone was deadly. The cold kind of malice Tiernan had only ever seen from him in times of war. Lir shifted, tightening his grip, still holding the silver-haired warrior hostage. “Otherwise, both of them are likely to get you killed.”
Soothing, gentle magic invaded the hostile space, drawing the anger and wrath.
“Tiernan can find Maeve.” Ceridwen looked down into her teacup, her brow knitting when she found the contents empty. “He bears the witch thread. It is similar to a Strand, yet different. Still a bond, but witch magic can be rather potent.”
Ceridwen was far too melancholy for Tiernan’s liking.
Brynn tucked her dagger away, rising from her seat. “We have to go after her. If Garvan got out, then he had help. We don’t know the numbers, but Maeve won’t be able to stave off a small army of Autumn warriors by herself.”
“Sure she can.” Rowan crossed his arms and rocked back onto his heels in a silent challenge.
The verandah was hushed. Eerily quiet.
Tiernan turned to face the Nightweaver, his movements painfully slow. “What did you say?”
“In not as many words, I said you severely underestimate your betrothed. All of you do.” Rowan’s gaze slid to each one of them, driving his point home. “She is not the weak mortal princess from Kells. She is Archfae. A demigoddess in her own right. And far more powerful than any of you could ever imagine.”
Fists clenched, Tiernan locked his jaw, inhaling sharply before speaking. But he already knew, no matter what else was said here tonight, none of it was going to end well. “Maeve may be more powerful, but that doesn’t mean I have to stand by and let her fight every battle on her own.”
The corner of Rowan’s mouth tugged upward into a spiteful smirk. “I don’t recall her asking for your help.”
Tiernan’s vision went red, and all he wanted was Rowan’s blood on his hands.
“You fucking?—”
He tore across the verandah, aiming for the Nightweaver’s throat. The table flipped, scattering bowls of food across the floor as glasses and plates shattered around them. He lunged forward, grabbing the prick of a fae and slamming him onto the ground. Rage fired through him and was met with vengeful satisfaction as his fist collided with Rowan’s jaw. His head snapped back and blood spurted out from his mouth, but it wasn’t enough to disguise the grin peeling across the bastard’s face.
Tiernan hauled his arm back to land another blow, but this time, Rowan caught his fist with one hand. His purple gaze went dark, igniting with malice.
Rowan heaved, throwing Tiernan backward. His spine hit the stone wall behind him, and bits of rock tumbled down on top of his head. Pain exploded along his shoulder, but he regained his bearing just in time to duck his head and roll right as Rowan’s fist smashed into the wall, leaving a gaping hole. Tiernan leaptto his feet and swung, meeting his mark on the side of Rowan’s face, the resounding crunch of flesh and bone reverberating through him.
He was vaguely aware of everyone around them, but their voices droned in and out of his mind.
“Should we intervene?” Merrick asked from somewhere off to Tiernan’s right.
Lir answered with a decided, “No.”
So they continued to fight, unleashing all their jealousy and anger in a battle of blood, fists, and broken bones. They were evenly matched, each striking the other before dodging the next assault. Tiernan knew at least two of his ribs were cracked. The bruises would be vicious, and his eye had already begun to swell. But at least he wasn’t spitting blood. He’d decked Rowan right in his pretty face, the rush of smug triumph enough to make Tiernan forget about the fact that his lip was busted open.
Suddenly, a flash of silver tore across Tiernan’s line of sight.
Saoirse had Rowan pinned against the crumbling wall, the tip of her blade poised at the base of his neck.
Brynn was in Tiernan’s face, the cold bite of metal stinging his heated flesh as she pressed the flat edge of her blade to his throat. Her eyes flashed from piercing blue to dangerous red.
