Maeve
I wake to total darkness, shooting upright as my heart thunders in my chest. I rarely dream, but I felt… uneasy, to say the least, about something that now I can’t fully remember. I reach up to rub my eyes, exhaling, then inhaling deeply before going completely rigid as the events of the last several hours come back to me in a rush.
I fly out of bed–at least, I roll–stumbling into a pair of slippers while cradling the swell of my belly and groping in the dark for my robe. There’s a slight chill in the late winter air as I rush out of the bedroom, sliding around the sharp corner into the living room where a single lamp is on, illuminating the two figures sitting around the fireplace, which has burned down to embers.
Soren lifts his head to look at me, his eyes dark and details blurred by the shadows. Patton rises, the frantic look in his eyes softening as he swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. I obviously just interrupted a tense conversation judging by the look on both of their faces.
I press my hand to my chest, panting, my other hand braced against the wall as I struggle to catch my breath. I bend ever so slightly in a weak attempt to fill my lungs–which the baby has been using as punching bags–and nearly miss the silent exchange between Soren and Patton.
Patton gives Soren the sharpest, dirtiest look I’ve ever seen before striding past me in the direction of the door that adjoins the two suites, saying in passing, “I’m sorry if we woke you.”
“You didn’t,” I pant, but he’s already fading into the shadows. I close my eyes, inhaling deeply as my belly tightens into one of those practice contractions my midwife keeps hounding me about, and when I exhale, Soren’s by my side, taking me by the elbow in an attempt to steady me.
I can feel the tension pouring from him as I struggle to straighten, weakly waving him away.
“You need to go back to bed,” he says, his voice a low, deep whisper in the silence. “It’s late.”
I squint through the darkness, catching the faint glow of the silver light drifting through the windows. It’s snowing again, falling in dizzy sheets that catch the light of the outdoor lights as it falls to the ground in thick clumps.
“Maeve,” Soren says under his breath.
“I’m fine,” I rush out, straightening, still bracing my hand on the wall. “What are you doing out here?” I reach for his arm, but he moves away, gripping my elbow as he guides us back around the corner toward my bedroom. “Soren–”
“You shouldn’t be up like this,” he says gruffly, and I rip my elbow out of his grasp.
“I’m pregnant, Soren. Not injured.” I whirl into my bedroom and turn on the lamp on my bedside table, squeezing my eyes shut against the sharp glow before whirling back to where he’s standing in the doorway. He looks beyond exhausted. A tight, blood stained bandage covers his arm. I was right about the bleeding starting up again. I knew it would. With a heavily annoyed sigh, I stride past him into the ensuite bathroom and start rifling through the cabinets, grumbling, “Patton told me everything, Soren. You can drop the hero act. I’m not going to Veiled Valley.”
Soren doesn’t move from the doorway as I clutch another vial of healing potion and move back into the light, coming to a stop a few feet away from where he’s standing. “The Viper put another band on you when she told you to come here and kill our baby, didn’t she?”
Soren sees red. I can taste the tension, the fury, pouring off him as I roll the vial between my fingers, keeping my gaze locked on his.
When he fails to respond, I add, “I’m safest here. You’re safest here–”
“I can’t stay–”
“You are. You’re staying.”
“Maeve–”
“I’m not letting you go. I can’t.” I grip the vial hard enough to warm the glass. His expression shatters for several seconds before he regains his composure, his eyes going characteristic hard and sharp.
“You know who I work for. You know who she works for–”
“I don’t give a shit,” I snarl, my eyes flooding with tears I can’t blink back. “Do you know what I’ve had to do over the past nine months? What strings I’ve had to pull to keep you a secret while you gallivanted around the Allied Kingdoms killing more and more people for the Architect? I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish, but I made it possible for you to do it, Soren. I sent my own father’s forces on fake missions to keep them off your trail because they got fucking close, okay? I’ve been lying to my family for you. I’ve been lying to Eastonia for you, and you’re going to stand here and tell me you can’t stay and let me help you out of this?!”
“This is why,” he says through gritted teeth, taking two rushed steps toward me, more blood soaking the bandage. “This is why, Maeve. What kind of future did you think we had? I’m a fucking murderer. I’ve spent the last ten years of my life working against the very kingdom you now rule–”
“I don’t care–”
“I do,” he rasps, but his eyes betray his tone. That steely darkness retreats, giving a glimpse of what he really feels but can’t voice. Pain. A desperate, twisting kind of agony I’ve never seen before.
“Did you come back for me?” I ask through my tears. “Or just to warn me that the Viper put a mark on my–our–unborn daughter’s head and try to force me to leave–”
“I came when I knew–”
“Did you come for me?” I shout, pushing past a sob. “Are you here–are you here for me?”
He searches my eyes, his chest rising and falling with each shallow inhale. “Look at what I did to you, Maeve, and tell me I have the right to even grovel at your feet and ask for forgiveness,” he says in a near whisper, shaking his head.
My hands instinctively cradle my stomach. He takes another step in my direction.
“I got you pregnant,” he continues darkly.
I tilt my chin in what I hope is a look of defiance. “Well, it’s not like we took the necessary precautions.”
“Don’t fuck with me right now.”
“Don’t come into my house trying to boss me around, you fucking bastard, and expect me to bend the knee and do what you want! I am the Queen of Eastonia, Soren. I’m not going to run and hide because some crazy bitch wants to kill my baby!”
“You’re on Hannibal’s radar, Maeve!” he shouts, his eyes darkening as he lets his real feelings flare. “He knows. He knows about us. The Viper knows about us. She knows the baby is mine and knew I’d come straight here. We’re not safe here–any of us.” He motions to my stomach, reaching for me, but hesitates, curling his fingers into a fist.
“Have you forgotten who the fuck I am?” I snarl, letting my powers flow. My eyes burn crimson, my fingertips crackling with embers, my magic scenting the air with iron and flames.
Soren watches me closely but holds my gaze, unwavering, even as my magic begins to fill the room.
A fiery electric current scurries around us, but he’s totally unfazed. In fact, his eyes narrow, his expression tightening into annoyance. “Stop.”
There he is.
My powers abruptly shut off, and the electricity in the room snaps. He flinches, rubbing his neck, while continuing to glare like my magic snapped him like little rubber bands all over his body, and honestly, I hope it did. “I’m not afraid of the Viper or Hannibal. I want them to come. I want them to try their best. I hope they fucking do. It will save me an immense amount of time tracking them down to punish them for what they did to you!”
He steps into me, taking me by the shoulders. “You’re not fighting this battle for me.”
I shove him back. “I never asked your opinion. You came here just to warn me they’re coming for me and our baby, right? Now you’re going to leave again–”
“I’m escorting you to Veiled Valley–”
“I don’t need you to escort me anywhere,” I snarl, those tears of pure frustration prickling into existence again. “I can take myself there with a snap of my fingers. I’d be there in seconds.”
“Then do it,” he growls, gripping my arms. “Go–”
I shove him back, but he doesn’t budge. I shove him again, my mouth pulled tight in a pained grimace as nine months of pure, unfiltered emotion breaks through the dam I built, spilling in a tidal wave that’s nearly strong enough to bring me to my knees. I grip his shirt as a sob tangles in my throat and makes my next words sound like gravel when I ask, one final time, “Did you come back for me? Was there any part of you that–that–came back because you–you just wanted to be here, with me?” My voice is small, almost weak. I can’t even look him in the eyes right now. I hate this–begging like this. Feeling broken and small as his body closes in on mine.
I don’t pull away when his arms wrap around me, tugging me close. His scent blurs my senses, turning my fury and turmoil into liquid heat I’m forced to ignore, trying to keep my head clear and safe from what my body desperately wants, trying to keep my focus off the fact my feelings for him never faded, but maybe for him, they did.
“I’ve never done this before,” he admits in the softest tone he’s ever used with me. “I’ve never had something that–that didn’t make any sense, that fucking sucked to lose. I don’t know where to go from here, Maeve.”
“It doesn’t matter–”
“But it does. You’re the queen. Not just any queen, either. A Firestone queen.”
I curl my arms around his waist and press my cheek to the crook of his shoulder, closing my eyes.
“I’m… uneducated. My parents were rogues who never amounted to anything and are likely dead. I spent my life trying to survive. I had no goals, no real home. I have enough blood on my hands to fill a small city, and I can’t… I can’t ever take back what I’ve done.”
“You were forced–”
“There were things I did willingly,” he cuts in, his hand smoothing down my back. “You know that.”
I keep my eyes closed, barely able to breathe as I wait for him to shove us apart again.
But he grips me tighter, closer, his other hand unraveling from around my body to press against the side of my stomach. The baby rolls, kicking him, and I feel the softest, saddest smile against my temple when he says, “I did this to you, and you’ve been going through this alone for months.”
“I had no way to tell you.”
“It doesn’t matter. I put you on that train knowing I was making a mistake, but I couldn’t see a way out of it. The only thing that mattered to me then, and now, was your safety and reputation. I wanted to say fuck it all and take you away, settling us somewhere in the Highlands where no one would be able to find us. I let myself imagine what that would have been like–a home together. A place where you weren’t the queen and I wasn’t something out of your family’s nightmares.”
I pull away, looking up at him. “That’s what you’re worried about? My reputation?”
He searches my eyes as I pull away even further, taking several steps away from him.
“You’re worried about what people will think if they find out about us?” I press, trying not to laugh. “Soren–”
“I’m fucking terrified of anything bad happening to you, Maeve,” he growls, his eyes going dark as iron again. “I can’t handle the thought. It’s been eating me alive–”
“I’m fine. I’ll always be fine. I’m a Firestone witch, for fuck’s sake! I’m more powerful–”
“You’re my mate!” he shouts, his patience snapping and shattering around the room, which goes perfectly, completely still–so silent I can hear the snow falling beyond the windows.