“I wanted her help.”
“With?”
“So many questions,” he murmured. Sighing, he propped his elbows on his knees and faced her. “Two reasons. First, to see if she knew of a less…painful way to remove your cuffs. The second, well, let’s just say I was willing to do whatever was necessary to see your crown restored to you.”
Maeve paled.
“But,” he continued, leaning back, the wall rising between them again. “I couldn’t find her.”
Because the will ó wisp had found Maeve instead.
She was sure there was more to his story, but it was enough for now. “Okay…you can come with me.”
He smiled and reached for his book.
Maeve tried to continue reading her own, but her mind wouldn’t focus. She tore her gaze away from the random mix of letters in front of her. “Rowan?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
His lips curved into a smirk. “What did I say about giving me your gratitude?”
“Oh.” Her cheeks flushed and a memory of the two of them standing on the Shores slammed into her mind. He’d warned her then about her mortal qualities, how they could get her into trouble if she wasn’t careful. She would have to be more diligent. Especially in the Ether. “I forgot.”
“Don’t let it happen again.” He flipped another page in his book. “Not all fae are as good natured as myself.”
Her gaze snagged on the embossed title in icy blue script.
It was a story about a pair of star-crossed lovers and filled with sexually explicit content.
“I never pegged you for the type to read romance.” She intended for her comment to be in jest, but the look he gave her was purely wicked.
“It’s amazing what one can learn from these.” He offered her a wolfish grin. “Especially the bedroom activities.”
Heat bled into Maeve, scorching her from her neck all the way to the tips of her ears. She tugged on her blouse and swallowed, her throat suddenly too dry. “Is it warm in here or is it just me?”
Rowan didn’t even look up. “Just you, Princess.”
She jumped up out of her seat and bolted for the door. “I think I’m going to go for a walk.”
He waved, his eyes glued to the pages of his book. “Mind the wandering souls.”
Maeve couldn’t get out of the library fast enough. She didn’t even grab her fur cloak as she left, welcoming the chill as a gust of autumn wind collided into her, stealing the breath from her lungs.
Picking a random direction, she started walking, all the while wondering why she was determined to put so much space between herself and Rowan.
ChapterSeven
Tiernan hadn’t expected to call a meeting of Archfae but deemed it necessary. Before him sat Dorian, the High King of Autumn, and Ciara, the High Queen of Winter. They’d agreed to meet in Niahvess, so Tiernan arranged for them to discuss the current situation in his open-air ballroom, away from prying eyes and ears. Faerie lights floated overhead, illuminating the space, but this time there was no music. No dancing. The mood was somber, draped in layers of trepidation and apprehension.
Ceridwen sat to his left, with Lir, Merrick, and Brynn standing behind them. Malachy Brannon, Commander of the Winter Legion, was in attendance as well, while Aran and Aeralie had arrived to support Dorian.
It was Aran, however, who drew Tiernan’s attention.
His expression was drawn, his eyes downcast. Weary lines haunted the planes of his face. He looked vacant. Hollow. He’d only just returned from his travels and learned he lost a brother and a sister. Both to death, oddly enough. One to the hand of death, the other to the god of death himself.
Tiernan couldn’t imagine the depth of his grief.
