The Throne Room
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Emily gave her sister a few minutes to sit snuggled up against Michael. They looked awfully cozy, and they’d been through a lot. When she thought they’d had enough time to recover a little, she made her way over to them. “Anything you need me to do?”
Sophie looked up at her, her face drawn and pale with exhaustion. “Do you think you could track down Maeve in the palace? I’ve about had it with her, and I think Nana should do something about her.”
“That actually sounds like a lot of fun. Eamon, want to come with?” She didn’t wait for an answer before heading out, but he followed her. “Where do you think she’ll hole up?”
“She’s hiding in the tower. That’s where she always goes, and I can sense her.”
“Okay then, I guess we’re climbing stairs.”
She’d thought the tension in the throne room during the fight had been bad, but in the tight quarters of the stairwell, the tension between her and Eamon was too thick for anything weaker than a chainsaw to cut through it. “I hope when they repair the barriers it stops all the weirdness,” she said, trying to find a way to ease into the conversation they needed to have. “There are all those theater people who’ve been dancing all night, and one of my costars seems to have picked up a leanan sidhe. Except he thinks I’m the redhead he’s seeing in his dreams.”
“She might have been putting on your face to entice him, but that would only work if he already saw you in his dreams.” His voice was stiff and formal sounding. Was he hurt? He was the one who’d been avoiding her.
“That’s a scary thought. Still, maybe he isn’t as bad as I thought. And he is talented.”
Instead of responding to that, he said, “Maeve is just ahead.”
Apparently he was going to keep this professional. She could do that. “Okay, ready for an ambush?”
He waved a hand, flinging the door of the tower room wide open, and both of them hit the woman inside with magic, immobilizing her. Emily felt it was ridiculously satisfying to be able to use fae magic against Maeve. If only she’d known she had the power last summer when Maeve caught her. Emily’s magic wasn’t that powerful, but combined with Eamon’s, it was more than enough to immobilize Maeve. “I bet you’re wishing you’d left me alone,” Emily said to the seething captive fairy as they hauled her down the stairs, bound with a magical silver chain Eamon had conjured. “You’d still have a court and you wouldn’t have been double-crossed so often.”
Nana had returned to the throne room by the time they returned. She was sitting on her throne, handing out judgment to the fae who’d sided with Josephine. “Ah, Maeve,” she said, sounding conversational. “It seems like every time there’s a threat to the Realm, you’re involved. You fall for every line that any traitor throws you, and I’ve had enough. I don’t want you in my court, and I don’t want you in my Realm.”
“Not exile!” Maeve blurted.
“Oh, I’m not that cruel, and I don’t want to create another Josephine. We’re safest if you’re a mortal living in the mortal world.” She waved a hand, and Maeve changed. It was subtle—she was still ridiculously gorgeous, but in a more human way. She didn’t glow the way the fae did, and all sense of power was gone. Maeve wailed and sank to the ground, sobbing.
Emily was surprised by just how stricken Eamon looked. He loved humans and studied human culture to the point he probably fit in better with them than with other fae, and he had no love for Maeve, but the look of pity on his face nearly broke Emily’s heart. Now she understood why he’d been avoiding her. No matter what he felt for her, this was what he’d have to do for them to be together if she didn’t move into the Realm. She wasn’t ready for that step, so she could hardly blame him for not wanting to give up his immortality.
And that was when she realized her feelings for him were real. He wasn’t just an itch she wanted to scratch. She cared about what happened to him, and she cared too much to make him give anything up for her. That was a particularly cruel irony, to understand how much she felt when she knew she couldn’t act on it.
Maybe that’s what had been going on with him: he’d realized he didn’t want her giving up her life for him. So where did that leave them, caring about each other too much to be together? She supposed that was why Charles made a good distraction. It would be better for both of them if she forced herself to move on.
Even though Maeve had caused Emily so much trouble, she still felt a little bad for her. “Don’t worry, Maeve,” she said, helping the former fairy to her feet. “You’ve got the looks to be a supermodel, and it’ll be a few more years before you have to start worrying about wrinkles.”