Saoirse’s blue eyes landed on Tiernan. “You of all people should know emotions can cloud her judgment. Her desire tohelp, to save and protect, blinds her to the manipulation and the cunning ability of the fae.”
She shook her head. “Have you learned nothing?”
With that, she stalked off across the verandah, not even bothering with the door. She stomped over the debris and climbed through the hole in the wall created by Rowan’s fist.
“Saoirse,” Ceridwen called after her. “Where are you going?”
“To find her!”
Tiernan glanced over at Lir, jerking his head in Saoirse’s direction. “Follow her. She’ll get herself killed before she reaches Autumn’s border.”
Lir nodded, setting off after the infuriated warrior.
“If you’re that worried about your mate,” Rowan drawled, smoothing the wrinkles from his shirt. “Attune to her emotions. Your fancy witch marking will let you know if she’s in peril. Unless you’re worried that I’m right, of course, that she doesn’t actually need you as much as you’d like to believe.”
Tiernan’s muscles seized on instinct. Again, his fists clenched in fury.
He’d felt the crushing weight of her fear more often than he cared to admit. The worst was when he could do nothing about it.
“Then go after her.” Rowan headed toward the door, tossing a backward glance over his shoulder. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Damn it.
Tiernan could take Rowan’s word and let Maeve go after Garvan alone. Hell, she’d probably already found him, given how much time he’d wasted in his brawl with Rowan. But if he went after her, there was a good chance she’d be incensed, and likely take it as some kind of personal offense against her abilities. Already he’d tried to convince her not to go by herself and that had backfired in his face. But if Saoirse was right, he could bemaking a terrible mistake by sitting here and waiting for her to return.
Muttering a stream of vile swears, he reached to Maeve’s mind through the witch thread.
“If you need me, say the word.”
Silence followed, and then finally, her voice slid into his thoughts.
“I can handle my brother on my own.”
Chapter Ten
Tiernan’s voice echoed quietly in the back of Maeve’s mind, but she remained motionless, measuring each breath until it faded completely, and she could focus on the task at hand.
Garvan crept down the hall, slinking toward her father’s bedroom like a decrepit snake. His dark red hair had lost most of its luster, it was stringy and thin in most places. His skin clung to his gaunt face as though it would melt off at any second. He looked frail and weak, with his threadbare clothing barely clinging to his malnourished form. Maeve almost didn’t recognize him.
From the shadows, he scarcely resembled the strong, powerful Archfae she remembered. He was a phantom, empty and withering.
“I know you’re there, darling sister,” he rasped, his voice gruff. “A Strand binding siblings is unbreakable. Unless one of them dies, of course.”
Maeve clenched her jaw so tightly her temples started to ache. “You are no brother of mine.”
She stepped from the shadows, and he turned to face her.
His peeled lips cracked open into a cruel smile. “Keep telling yourself that.”
Her grip tightened around the hilt of her Aurastone, and she moved closer, her heels clicking softly against the obsidian floor. Amber light washed the corridor, just enough to see him clearly. “You cursed our father. You killed our brother. You?—”
“I do not need you to recite all the crimes I have committed.” Garvan’s face twisted into a scowl, but the rancor hardening his tone waned. “Aran already ensured I suffered…thoroughly.”
Maeve faltered.
Aran tortured Garvan?
She knew Garvan deserved every punishment bestowed upon him, but she never imagined Aran would be the one to inflict it. The thought of it made her cringe. She’d never been on the receiving end of her eldest brother’s wrath.
