“Your eye,” Maeve said, just as the man came up to her. “What happened to your eye?”
Pike reached out and crushed her to him in a rough hug. She stiffened for a moment before relaxing, the woodsy scent of him just as she remembered. Warmth bloomed in her chest, and she felt hot tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She laughed as he released her, holding her at arm’s length by her shoulders. “It is good to see you, girl. You don’t look like you aged much at all. How long has it been for you?”
That had been a common enough question, back in the days they traveled together. How long has it been? “Fifteen years,” she said. “What happened to you, Pike?”
“I grew old,” he said, his voice gruff, and his remaining blue eye flashed with the same cunning and shrewdness she remembered from before. “Unlike some of us.” He laughed, his gaze went to Rodan, and the laugh froze. “King Rodan.”
“Pike,” he said, nodding. He stood close to Maeve, and therefore close to his old adversary. Maeve glanced over at him and realized he stood at the ready to protect her, just in case. Sebastian tried something before, so why wouldn’t another of her old companions? “You do not look well.”
Pike snorted and let Maeve go, taking a shuffling step back. “Things have gone—gone very badly since you were defeated.”
Maeve saw Rodan stiffen, and hastened to fill the silence, “What are you doing here? What happened to you? You look—you look like you were run through a wood chipper.”
“What’s a wood chipper?” Pike and Rodan asked in one voice. The men glared at each other, and Rodan took another half step closer to Maeve.
She waved a hand, “Never mind.”
Pike sighed. “Sebastian happened, girl.” He looked behind him, at the rest of the pavilion. “But that can wait. The elders wish to speak to you and your—and King Rodan.”
“Just Rodan,” he corrected. “I am no king yet.”
“Rodan, then,” Pike said, motioning them forward. “Come on.”
The trio moved deeper into the grand open space, and Maeve noted the twenty or so elderly men, women and centaurs occupying enormous floor cushions and divans, arranged in a horseshoe pattern. Curious, solemn eyes regarded them as they drew nearer.
Pike cleared his throat. “Gentlemen. Ladies. May I introduce to you Maeve Almeida and Rodan, former high king?”
“What is he doing here?” one elderly man asked, his voice hostile. “Why would he be traveling with her, of all people?”
Pike looked over at her, his eyebrows raised.
Maeve took a hesitant step forward, addressing the assembled room just as much as she did the man who spoke. “I’m here to right a wrong,” she said, her voice carrying. “I’ve seen what Sebastian did with his reign. I walked through villages where every man, woman, and child was killed because of his hatred and paranoia. I heard the stories of him taking people, never to be seen again.” She paused and took a shaky breath, her voice lowering a bit. “I know Rodan has not been the perfect ruler, but I believe he is what the Realms need.”
The man who spoke earlier opened his mouth to retort when a woman next to him smacked him with a closed hand fan. “That’s enough from you, O’Brian,” she snapped. Her gray eyes turned to Maeve. “We do not recognize the rule of Sebastian Sekou here,” she said. “He has given us nothing and taken much more besides. Our city defends itself against his soldiers and spies.”
“I am here to help you,” Rodan said from behind her. “We are here to help you.”
“You say so,” the woman continued, “but you know not of what we face. It would be better for the two of you to leave. Leave, and do not return.”
Maeve shook her head. “He needs to be crowned in each of the Realms before he can challenge Sebastian. I remember your crown from when Sebastian wore it upon his head.”
“Aye,” the woman said, a shrewd look coming into her eyes, “and we have regretted that day ever since. Who is to say this time will be any better?”
Murmurings of approval arose from the assembled people, and one silver-coated centaur snorted his derision, waving a hand as though to dismiss the three of them.
Heat rose in her cheeks, and she took another step forward. “We want to help you,” she reiterated. “You say we should go, that we do not know what you face, but we have faced off against much already. The chimera at Ishtem is dead now because of Rodan. The free city of Nucifera no longer starves because of Rodan. We helped them. We can help you.”
O’Brian gave a brittle laugh. “If you face off against our adversaries, we’ll be burying you before next daybreak.”
“You don’t know that,” Maeve pressed. “Tell us what’s going on, and we can help you.”
The woman with the gray eyes stared at Maeve and said, in a quavering voice, “The shadows, child. The shadows are taking our children.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Rodan
RODAN WATCHED AS MAEVE faced off against the group of elders. Hostility radiated in his direction from some of them, and he did not want to cause more harm by interjecting with his own thoughts or opinions. In this, he trusted Maeve implicitly. She would find a way through to them.
She always did.
He glanced aside at Pike. He had met the man on a few occasions, but knew of him before he ever joined up with Sebastian. He was a fighter, the meanest one they hosted on the streets of the capital city. He’d always managed to evade the royal guard. Even though, eventually, Rodan sent them to recruit Pike, not capture him.
A man like that would be an invaluable asset.
“What do you mean, the shadows are taking your children?” Maeve asked, drawing his attention back to the conversation.
“We do not know where they come from,” the old woman replied. “For the last year, creatures made of darkness steal into our city and snatch our babies and children. Over a hundred, by last count. The only thing that keeps them away is the light from our torches, or that of Rizor and Tegal, blessed be they. Anyone who tries to attack the shadows perishes.”
“Shadows?” Maeve reiterated, a frown creasing her brow. “What do they want with the children? Have you been able to find them?”
“Isadora,” the silver-haired centaur said, speaking to the old woman, “they cannot help us.”
Isadora shook her head, the polished wooden earrings she wore catching the light. “If they wish to be crowned, if they wish to help, I will not stop them. If they die, on their own heads be it. We’ve given them warning.”
The centaur scowled but leaned back, crossing his arms and saying nothing more.
The old woman looked at Maeve again, her gray eyes penetrating. Rodan almost wanted to step between them, to shield Maeve from that look. “Child,” she said, her voice quavering but carrying, “we have seen none of the children again. Only...remnants. A sandal. A broken doll. Their swaddling clothes. We don’t know what the shadows want, only that they continue to take. Despite our precautions—despite lighting up the city as we have—they still find ways to move in what shadows remain to them. They find their way to our young.”
“That is awful,” Maeve murmured, taking a small step forward. “I’m so sorry.”
Isadora’s facial features softened a little, and she whispered, “Thank you, child.”
“Did you—were there children you knew who were taken?”
The woman nodded. “Two of my grandchildren and one of my great-nephews. We are blessed with a large family, but even so the loss is... profound.” She shifted in her seat, smoothing out the billowing robes she wore, and her eyes found Rodan. “If you wish to be crowned, here is your task: find our missing children. Discover what happened to them. Kill or make peace with the shadow creatures but stop them from returning. If you can do this thing, I will place our crown on your head.”
Maeve nodded and gave a slight bow. “Thank you. All of you. We’ll find out where your children are. I promise.”
The council of elders regarded her and Rodan, but
no one else said a word. Pike touched Maeve’s arm and nodded toward the entrance to the pavilion. The three of them left, Rodan giving the council the tiniest of bows before he went.
Outside, dawn gave way to early light. Centaurs strode between the pavilions and tents, their armored leather clothing making them look like a patrolling army. Rodan supposed they were, in their way.
Pike stopped and turned toward them both. “I tried to find these creatures,” he started. “There is no trace of them to be found. Wherever they go in the daylight hours, they leave no tracks to follow.”
Maeve yawned and glanced up at Rodan, “What do you think? Where should we start?”
He looked her over and said, “We must rest. You’re tired. We’ve been traveling since before sunset.”
She seemed about to argue when another yawn overtook her. “I guess you’re right.” She turned to her old friend and asked, “Where are you staying?”
“I have a tent near the perimeter. There is space nearby for your own, if you have one.” He checked them over. “I didn’t see anything on your saddles.”
Maeve gave a conspiratorial smile. “Wait until you see. Come on, let’s go.” She linked her arm in Pike’s, and he led them away from the grand pavilion, toward an area of the city where the shelters grew smaller and the murmur of voices louder. They skirted the edge of the great open-air market, where vendors set up their stalls of wares among a carpet of mist hugging the ground.
Pike raised a hand in greeting to several centaurs and humans as they passed but did not stop to chat. They made their way down increasingly narrow alleyways until the edge of the city was in sight, the grass tall as a person once more and swaying in the slight breeze.
“Here ‘tis,” Pike said, stopping in front of a tent barely large enough for someone like him to fit a bed inside. “Not much, I know, but it’s home for now.”
Maeve gave the sad little tent a long look, then turned to Rodan. “Could you maybe make two?”
“Make two o’ what?” Pike asked, his eyes narrowing. “What are you up to?”
Rodan moved past them toward the clearing next to the pitiful shelter. He reached for all that was around him—the tall grass and their even longer roots, the earth and rocks beneath their feet, the dust in the air—and he wove it all into the pavilion he and Maeve so often shared. Pike made a startled noise, and Rodan conjured another, half the size of his usual creation, but done in the same style. Both he made in the black and gold colors of his house, and atop his, a banner snapped in the breeze, festooned with the crowned golden rose on its pure black field.
“Incredible,” Pike murmured. “I suppose the smaller one is for you, Maeve?”
Rodan glanced over just as Maeve’s face flushed pink, and she stepped away from her friend, pulling away from his arm. “Actually, Rodan and I share this one,” she said with a gesture at the larger of the two. “He made the other one for you, so you have something bigger to sleep in.”
Pike narrowed his eyes again and glared at Rodan. “If you lay a hand on her—”
“Pike!” Maeve snapped, stepping between them just as her friend took a step forward, his posture menacing. “That’s enough.”
His eyes widened and he glanced between the two of them. Rodan just raised his eyebrows and shrugged. Once again, she handled things well. It was her gift.
A Fae gift, perhaps? he mused.
“We’ll talk about this later,” Maeve assured him. “For now, just enjoy the new tent. I’m sure some food is in there,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at Rodan, and at his nod she flashed him a smile which made his heart stutter. “So, please, just leave it alone for now.”
Pike half-turned away from her, muttering something under his breath Rodan couldn’t hear. Maeve did, however, and she punched her friend in the shoulder. “Shut up.”
Pike grinned, the motion falling as he looked behind her to Rodan. He raised a finger, pointing directly at him. “If you hurt her, I’ll—”
“Do a number of terrible things, I’m sure,” said Rodan, his tone dry. He added, softening, “I would never do anything to hurt her.”
Maeve moved to Rodan’s side. “I’m tired,” she announced once more. “We’ll talk soon. Come up with a plan.” She yawned, speaking through it, “And we’ll get the bastards.”
Rodan nodded, and led the way into their pavilion, the long canvas cloth swinging closed behind them.
Once inside, Maeve went behind the screen separating her bathroom from the rest of the space. Rustling sounded as she got changed into her sleepwear, emerging in the shorts and loose cotton shirt he had grown used to seeing on her.
It struck him, not for the first time, how familiar this had all become. Seeing her walk toward him, a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. Something is happening here, he admitted to himself. I can no longer pretend a part of me is not invested in her. He wanted her happiness. He wanted her trust. He wanted to be worthy of it.
Rodan never let himself get so close to one of his paramours. The relationships always brief, fleeting. Nothing more than what he needed to slake his body’s urges. But necessity and, he admitted, desire kept him near her. Kept him wanting her. Not just her body, but her companionship.
It was not something he recalled wanting ever before.
Maeve stopped in front of him, her arms loose by her side. She tilted her head as she looked up at him. “What are you thinking about? You have a serious expression on your face.”
He started to reach out, hesitated, and ran the fingers of one hand up her arm before cupping her shoulder. Did this sensation grow because she had something of the Fae about her? Her ability to win people to her side—was that working on him, too? He found he cared less than he thought he should. If that were the case, he enjoyed this sensation, foreign though it may be.
Maeve’s foot slid forward until the line of her body pressed against his, fingertips gathering the fabric of his shirt through his vest. “I’m a little scared.”
“Scared?”
Her eyes, luminous in the soft light filtering through the thick cloth, blinked up at him. “I haven’t seen Pike in so long, I don’t know if he’s going to like who I’ve become.”
Rodan almost scoffed, then thought better of it, and squeezed her shoulder instead. “You are an incredible woman. If you have changed, you have only become greater than you once were. More yourself.”
“What if he doesn’t like me anymore?” she murmured.
He shook his head. “Then he’s a fool.” His other hand rose to stroke down one of her cheeks, and he wished again that nothing lay between them. No cloth, no leather. Just skin to skin. “You and Pike were close, once. You will be again. Do not fear this.”
She closed her eyes and leaned her head against his hand. “I thought he was dead.”
Rodan nodded. “So did I, tell it true. It would not have surprised me to find out Sebastian dispatched his old allies. He never came to get you from your world, as I’m sure he promised he would—”
“He never promised,” she interjected, and took a step back, shaking her head. “He only said he wished I would stay.”
He clenched his jaw and let his hands drop from her. “Stop defending him,” he said, his words coming out clipped and hard. “Sebastian manipulated you. He manipulated everyone and everything he could get his grasping hands on. If you had only come to me, helped me, when you first came to these Realms, what a world of difference it would have made. The things I might have shown you—the things we might have done. I would never use you the way he did.”
Maeve’s eyes glimmered in the dim light, and he realized too late that she began to cry. She shook her head again. “I’m telling you, that can’t all be true. I know him. He’s sick, Rodan. Something is making him sick.”
Rodan bit his tongue and turned away. He had hoped this exchange would go better. He would not listen to her defend this man, this enemy. If only she knew what he had asked Rodan to do to access the duel. W
hat would she think, if Rodan told her that her best friend demanded her heart and body as sacrifice for the throne?
Just thinking about it made his blood run hot.
Even if the challenge did not exist, something about Maeve drew him in. She was—it is like she was meant for me, he thought, the words echoing in his mind.
The thought was enough to stun him into silence. A silence she soon filled.
“I don’t want to fight about this, Rodan. Please. You already gave me your promise you’ll try to work things out with him, and that’s enough for now. You don’t need to like him, not ever, but I do want you to respect I still care about him. I still love him. He may do some awful things, but I don’t think he did it in a vacuum. There must be something affecting him. Someone manipulating him.”
Rodan swallowed hard and looked back at her. Her arms were crossed over her stomach, and she watched him with her big golden-brown eyes, her hair tumbling over her shoulders and down her back. She was lovely.
He shook himself.
“I understand,” he said, his voice quiet. “I apologize. I know you still care about him. I do not pretend to understand how it is possible, but I will respect that it is how you feel.”
Maeve moved closer to him, and her hand reached out to stroke the line of his jaw, tracing it down the curve of his neck. “I’m still here. With you. I want to be with you, Rodan, not Sebastian.”
He felt the change coming over him, that now burning need to claim her. A part of him wanted nothing more than to tear the gloves off and bond with her. To lean on her powers, while he gave back some of his own.
Among the Fae, an age-old tradition of leaving Fae royalty among the humans to raise remained one of the greatest gifts. That human upbringing, it was a way to impart genuine empathy and compassion into a Fae from a young age. These changelings, covered in a strong enchantment which smothered their appearance and their magic both, always became the strongest of the Fae. The rulers of the court.
Catching Pathways Page 20