Her brow furrowed. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“It means that—barring certain events transpiring—Sebastian, you, and myself would all duel to the death for the throne.”
Her eyes widened. “Woah, no, no,” she said, lifting her hands as though to ward him off. “I don’t want that! I’m just here to—to help you.” She paused. “And we’re going to try to help Sebastian, not kill him.”
“Yes,” he said, a tad impatient as he noted the group abandon its huddle and move toward them. “Maeve, you have to accept. The Realms have a mind of their own, they always have. I don’t think you can remain here if you refuse.”
“What?” She sputtered, “What are you talking about?”
He leaned down, whispering directly into her ear. “Accept the crown, or you may be expelled from these lands.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Maeve
THEY WERE BOTH CROWNED IN THE TEMPLE.
People spilled out of the doors and archways into the courtyard in front of the structure and beyond, crowds winding back through the twisted, steep cobblestone streets of the mountain city. The priests of the grant temple crowned them in their robes of black and gold, the colors most adopted as those of Rizor and Tegal. The council stood behind, watching.
They left that night, leading their horses out of the stable by the bridle, urging them past the people stumbling and weaving through the middle of the street, too deep in their cups to recognize the now-famous pair.
Maeve wanted to remain and be with Bethany and others, but they had to keep moving. Only six months to complete the trials, with no idea what they may face, made any moment they were not actively seeking their goal seem like a waste. Karst or Ferndale might offer a challenge which would take weeks, if not more. They had to be careful.
The city fell into shadows behind them, and Maeve thought about the ceremony and the thin circlet of gold and rubies that they placed on her brow. Rodan’s crown, a tad more robust, turned out to be ceremonial, like hers. Soon after the crowning, both the circlets of gold returned to their position of importance in the temple vaults.
Happy to be rid of it, Maeve almost thrust the crown back into the priest’s hands. The cool metal felt strange against her skin, and it was heavier than it looked. When she remarked upon its weight to Rodan, he said, “A crown is always heavy, or it is not a crown.”
She looked at him in the light from the stars, noting that his inky black hair, more than blending into the shadows, reflected the light from above. As she watched, he reached down and gave a soft stroke to Ender’s neck, the horse flicking back its ears at the touch.
“I feel like we’re fleeing,” Maeve said, breaking their long silence. She yawned. “How much farther until we’ll stop?”
“I want to make it to the river,” he said, nodding toward a silver ribbon of water on the horizon visible through the trees and rocky landscape. “We’ll cross it in the morning.”
They rode on, letting the horses pick their way down the rocky slopes, the paths wide and zigzagging down the mountainside in long curving stretches. She tried not to look down. Once, she did so, and it made her stomach want to crawl out her mouth. Along the way, Maeve noted the empty forests and blackened, burned structures where once villages and towns must have been. Ivy and weeds sprouted between the rubble, nature claiming the land for its own.
Rumors from Ishtem said Sebastian continued to send his troops into each Realm despite most of the cities withdrawing their support. His men terrorized the countryside, though according to some, they no longer burned and killed all they came across. Instead, the people were chained and dragged into ships, never to be seen again.
The night wore on, and as they continued on their path, Maeve found herself lulled into a gentle sleep by the rocking motion of the horse. She jerked awake twice before Rodan called an end to their journey.
They stopped at the bottom of the mountain, but it still took him a little time to find a spot to make camp. The river was much closer, but Maeve knew Rodan wanted to go a bit farther. She almost insisted that they keep going, but her regular yawns prevented her from doing so.
Dragging, Maeve helped set the picket line for the horses and brush them down for the night. Swaying on her feet by the time Rodan summoned the pavilion that he’d pulled up their first night, she stumbled inside, tugged off her boots, and collapsed on her camp bed.
She heard Rodan moving around the tent as he went about his night business, but instead of keeping her on alert, it smoothed her path into sleep.
She stood on the parapets of a high tower wall, gazing out at the landscape of the castle at Realmsgate. A thick forest, with golden leaves blending with greens and hues of almost blue, spread out as far as the eye could see. To her right the forest tapered off into the city itself, spreading wide over the land and surrounded by farming plots. Farther off in the distance, a little sliver of blue, lay the ocean.
The wind bit through her clothes. Maeve looked down to see that she wore a crimson gown, a golden sash at her waist. She remembered this outfit. It was the one she wore on the day she crowned Sebastian Sekou in the great hall of the castle at the center of this world.
“How long has it been for you?” a familiar voice called out from behind her.
Maeve whirled, eyes widening as she saw Sebastian behind her, dressed in half-armor, a sword and dagger pairing at his hips. He strutted toward her, the rose and thorn crown glittering on his brow and his eyes sharp with something she couldn’t quite name. Something dangerous.
She took a deep breath. “I’m dreaming.”
“Dreaming or dream walking? There is a difference,” he said, moving around her in a slow circle. She twisted to keep him in sight, not trusting him at her back. He found that amusing, a wide smile curving his lips. “Perhaps what happens to you here will affect your real body.”
Maeve backed away, moving toward the center of the tower, her hands up to ward him off. “I don’t want any trouble from you, Sebastian.”
“You’re questing against me. You were crowned today. With him,” he spat, stalking forward. “I thought you would have put a knife in his back before now. Finish what you should have done thirty years ago.”
She flushed. “I wasn’t going to murder someone in cold blood. Not even him.”
“But you’ll lead him here, to kill me? Me, your friend? Were we ever friends?”
“Sebastian,” she tried, keeping her voice as soothing while her heart raced. “I was your friend—I am your friend, but the land is hurting. I’ve passed empty villages and listened to the stories. Something must have happened to you when you took the throne. Rodan says it’s Fae, and you’re affected by—”
“Rodan says,” Sebastian mocked. “How close are you to that creature? Have you let him touch you? Are you blind to what he wants? My utter destruction. He would take you from me.”
A fiery heat warmed her from deep inside. “You took me from you. You were the one who let me go and never brought me back. Fifteen years I waited for some sign from you, but you were too busy ruining the kingdoms for—”
“Fifteen years?” he interrupted. “Is that all? How lucky you are, to live in a world where time moves in your favor.” He continued to move forward, and Maeve felt her back smack against a stone half-wall. “Do you understand what I would do to keep this throne, Maeve? Do you know what lengths I’ll go to, to protect myself and my kingdom?”
“You aren’t protecting your kingdom,” Maeve said. “I’ve seen your people. They’re angry. Scared. They’re under attack. They need you, and you’re not helping them!”
“You know nothing,” he snarled, stopping within a foot of her. “I used to think you were the reason I got to where I am, but now I see. You were holding me back. Now, now suddenly you’re useful, and to him, of all people. He’s going to kill me. That’s how this ends. He’ll try to kill me.”
“I won’t let him,” she whispered. “As broken as you are, Sebastian, yo
u’re still in there. I can feel it. Please—”
“You know nothing,” he said. “Nothing, do you hear me?”
He pulled his dagger free of its sheath. Maeve jumped, sucking in her belly and flattening against the wall. “What are you doing?”
“Removing a threat.”
She had dream walked before. She remembered how this worked.
Maeve pictured the little camp bed and the grand pavilion. The smell of the cool mountain air. The sound of the insects droning as she drifted into sleep. The edges of the dream, held down by the weight of the spell, blossomed in her mind. Reaching for the threads that tied it all together, she ripped at the spell. Tore her way free. Even as she began to fade, too much of her remained, and she did not rise out of sleep.
Not before Sebastian struck.
Maeve woke with a scream, clutching her abdomen. Blood gushed between her fingers, and intense pain washed through her body. Something moved in a way it should not, and acid burned at the back of her throat.
The partition ripped away from its hangings, and then Rodan stood above her, his eyes widening as he took in the sight before him. She looked at him, tears coursing down her cheeks and sweat peppering her brow. “Help me,” she choked.
He fell to his knees by her bed, his gloved hands hovering over her wound. “Move your hands. Let me see.”
She did, trembling, unable to speak. From below her navel almost up to her breastbone the wound gaped. Slick, bulging ropes of intestine stuck out from beneath her torn skin. Her heart sped up and her breathing quickened. Iron scented the air and copper danced along her tongue.
“Keep calm, Maeve,” Rodan said, pushing her firmly into the bed with one hand on her chest. “Just breathe.”
She could not seem to draw a proper breath. The air, stifling, burned her lungs as she panted.
Rodan pulled a flask out and whispered under his breath into the opening. Then he tipped the liquid back into his mouth and leaned down.
She about jumped out of her skin when his lips touched the slick, aching wound. Then she cried out as fire swept through her. As it traveled and raged, it left a cool tingle in its wake. She began to feel his lips better now, moving over her broken skin and releasing the liquid he held in his mouth.
Then, nothing. Calm and cool, the fire stopped along with the pain.
Maeve reached out a shaking hand and found only smooth flesh and slick blood. Rodan raised up, his lips and chin stained crimson. He looked like something out of a horror movie.
“Wh—what did you do?” Maeve gasped, her heart still beating a staccato in her chest.
Rodan wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his night shirt. “There is one spell that can cure almost any wound or poison, but it takes Fae biology to activate. I apologize for not explaining that earlier, but the situation appeared dire.” His expression unreadable, he leaned toward her. “Now. What happened?”
Maeve wanted to get cleaned up first. Her shirt, soaked with blood, clung to her skin, and her hands and wrists were coated in it, cooling and sticky. A wave of dizziness washed over her as she stood, but she shook her head when Rodan tried to assist her. She stumbled behind the screen to her camp bathroom and washed up, the water turning crimson beneath her. She stripped off the tatters of her sleep shirt, washed off her belly, and donned a new one.
By the time she came out from behind the barrier, Rodan got rid of the sodden bed and the fallen partition. Everything looked so normal that she paused, blinking in the dim light. Sinking down on a floor cushion next to Rodan, closer than she had willingly sat next to him before, she found herself seeking out the comfort of his presence.
Her body trembled, Rodan gazing at her. “Maeve?”
She turned her head toward him, the movement slow. “It was Sebastian,” she said, her voice low and quiet. “He created a dream walk, and then he—” She sucked in a shaking breath. “He got me before I got away. I let him get too close.”
Rodan frowned, reaching a hand out toward her abdomen. She flinched and he withdrew. “I apologize. I just—I want to make sure you’re fully healed. May I?”
Gaze flickering away from him, she gave a mute nod. He reached out again, his gloved hands grazing over her loose sleep shirt. He closed his eyes for a moment before pulling away, though the ghost of his touch lingered.
“I don’t sense anything amiss. We’ll have to make you a protection for when you sleep. Something to keep him at bay.”
“You can do that?”
“Yes.”
She fell quiet, and the silence stretched between them for a long few minutes. “Maeve,” he said, his voice gentle. “You did everything for him.”
She shook her head, and tears stung her eyes. “I didn’t, though. If I stayed—if I found a way back.... would he have turned into this monster?” She choked out the last of her sentence, her gaze snapping to his. “He was my friend.”
Rodan held a hand out to her, and after a moment she took it, her fingertips squeezing his through the glove. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know that you want to save him. It must be hard for you to see what he’s become.” He drew in a deep breath and let it out in a rush, “But he’s a danger to everyone in the Five Realms, including you.”
Maeve gripped his hand tighter. “You think you’re going to have to kill him, don’t you?”
He nodded.
She looked away, and her hand dropped from his. “I can’t let you do that.”
“It is not your decision to make.”
She shook her head, not looking at him.
Rodan sighed and stood. Striding over to where the partition and her bed once lay, he swept his hand over his own bed and conjured a larger one, big enough for several people. Maeve frowned.
“Come,” he said, the lights dimming, presumably at his behest. “You’re exhausted.”
“What’s this?” she demanded, a slight edge to her voice. “Why did you take away my bed?”
“Until I can make your charm, the best way to prevent your dream walking is to sleep by my side. I can shield you with my own magics, but only if you’re close to me.”
Wary, she stood. “How close are we talking?”
He gave her a little smile and shrugged. “Nothing improper, I assure you. Only close enough that the conjuring can’t slip through my natural defenses. We don’t even need to touch.”
She nodded, and they went to the bed, both of them slipping under the covers at once. Maeve turned her back to him, huddled into a ball, clutching a pillow to her chest. His presence, warm and comforting at her back, made her want to turn toward it, but she grasped the pillow tighter and ignored the impulse.
They lay in silence for a while, and then she said, “Thank you. I thought I was dying.”
In the dark, his voice rumbled quiet and low. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Maeve.”
“You can’t promise that.” She looked over her shoulder at him, “I can’t believe he would do this to me. We were friends, Rodan. Friends for years. I tried talking to him, but he—he won’t listen to a single thing I said.”
“The man you knew is dead,” he replied, his words blunt. “The sooner you realize that, the better.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Rodan
IT TOOK TWO WEEKS OF HARD TRAVELING to reach the outskirts of the second Realm, and another three days after that to near the city of Nucifera, situated on the coast of the shimmering sea.
Maeve remained quiet for most of the journey. They still spoke, sometimes at great length, but she seemed content to let silence stretch between them. Even when she engaged him in a mild debate, there rung a hollowness to it, as though she did not reside in her own body.
Now, she wore a leather pouch around her neck, secured with a cord and sealed with wax. The pouch contained the charm Rodan made her to protect against further dream walking. He’d finished it a week after her attack.
For seven short days, she slept by his side.
Rodan almost forgot the ge
ntle lull of the sound of someone breathing next to him. Sometimes, in the darkest hours of the night, Maeve would throw an arm over him or press close, but she always moved away before the dawn. At night, she would slip into bed without a comment, her back turned to him, hugging a pillow to her chest.
Even when sleep remained hours away for him, Rodan would stretch out beside her so that his latent magical shielding covered her as well. He read, mostly, in those quiet hours when she lay relaxed beside him. Sometimes he studied her, fascinated by the subtle change in her expression and the slow rise and fall of her rib cage.
Now they slept apart again, and Rodan tried not to dwell on the memories of those soft evenings. It is an arrangement, he reminded himself. A quest. You have not been this close to a woman this often for centuries. Focus on the mission.
The memories continued anyway, unbidden and undeterred. His thoughts dwelt on her often, too often as of late.
He hated it.
Rodan nudged Ender, spurring him closer to Maeve, reining up when they walked side by side. She stared out to sea as Leona ambled beneath her. Hair swept back from her face, falling down her back in tangled waves that he longed to brush out.
He cleared his throat. “Maeve, we need to talk before we enter the city.”
Her eyes, a little unfocused, rested on him, her movements slow and deliberate. “What is it?”
Rodan sighed and tightened his grip on the reins. “This. This is what I wish to talk about. You’re preoccupied. Though acceptable while we traveled, this city will contain the second trial. We both need to stay sharp.”
She blinked at him. “What do you mean?”
He gestured at her whole body. “You’re distracted. Not all here. Whatever you wish to call it, you’re a risk to us both now. I need you to be here, truly here, to help me.”
Maeve’s eyes sparked like cut citrine and narrowed. “Of course, it’s all about the damn trials,” she barked, then sighed, clearing her throat. “Rodan, my friend—someone I thought was my best friend, if not more—tried to kill me. He almost succeeded. How would you have me process it?”
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