1. Maeve

1

Maeve

W hen she said yes, everything inside of Maeve opened to the Nyx.

And they took it all.

Every memory and moment. All her thoughts, her deeply held beliefs. Every inch of it was flayed open and flipped through as though they were studying some intricate text.

But this was her life.

Her first memory of a shifting figure in a dark skirt slapping her hand away from a display of plastic dolls. "Get your filthy fingers away!" in a shrill voice that made Maeve burn with shame, even now. It was a voice telegraphing utter contempt.

Years that followed in a blur of time, shut up in bedrooms, told to be quiet, sit still, do as she was told, and then?—

No! Maeve thought—screamed—in her mind.

But the Nyx did not listen because she had said yes.

One of the most dangerous words. It had led her down a similar path before, time and time again. And yet she could not seem to learn.

Maeve tried to shut her mind and eyes to the memories of her first assault, but it played as clearly as a movie, and she could not seem to look away. She relived it, in part, as a spectator.

And this time, when the Nyx reached for the core of her, she leaned into them, letting them catch her. Let the coolness of their presence soothe the burning shame and rage kindling in her chest.

I didn't say no.

The memories came quicker, a parade of places to live—never someplace she could call home—and tormenting adults until one night after something monumentally horrific had been done, Maeve's teenage self had felt a tug in her naval. And then she had disappeared from that place of pain and near-death and found herself surrounded by dense forest, a canopy of stars above her, and a too-large, foreign moon.

Memories shifted in the dark.

Stumbling through the sudden appearance of dark woods and soaring, craggy mountains in the near distance, she had come across a woman foraging for herbal remedies by moonlight.

Only thirteen, Maeve had clutched at the torn clothes over her chest, asking the stranger, "Where am I?" Blood could be tasted on her tongue. Her lip was split.

And the woman, barely out of her teens herself, had asked, "Where do you think you are?" in the gentlest of voices.

Maeve jerked against the bonds that held her, but they soothed now, more than frightened, easing the pain of memories.

You are with us, whispered the cool, inky void . You are not alone, and you no longer have to fight.

Her head lolled, and she could see the moon of the Realms once more, and feel the feather-soft touch of its silver light.

"I think I'm in a dream," she had answered the girl. "I think this can't be."

The young woman dropped her basket of collected herbs and removed her cloak as she stepped to Maeve's side, slinging the still-warm fabric around her shoulders, covering her near-nakedness. "What happened to you, my friend? You look a fright."

Friend.

The first person in Maeve's life who had identified themselves as such.

"I was—" Maeve shook her head and said, "I'm not on Earth, am I?"

"Where is that? I have never heard of it but have not been outside the First Realm." The woman shivered a little in the cool mountain air. "Let's get warm. You can come to the hospital with me. I'm a nurse there. My name is Bethany."

Before she had been able to spirit her away, however, there had been a crashing noise, and three people emerged into the small clearing. One of them was the most handsome man Maeve had ever seen, with flaming red hair and a smile that seemed just for her.

"It worked," he crowed, glancing at his companions. "My aim was off, though."

The memory blurred and changed.

She was around a fire, dressed in plain but warm new clothes still holding the lingering smell of their old owners. Bethany sat near her, back in her cloak, eyeing the trio of travelers with some blatant trepidation. Maeve, however, was grateful to drink the offered mulled wine. The alcohol had helped ease the panic and fear. As had the time she spent at the side of a mountain stream, on her own with a towel, a bucket, and soap, tending to the worst of her pains. Maeve had wanted so badly to get clean, and now she was.

"You have no idea how happy I am to have found you," Sebastian, the flame-haired man, said as he leaned toward her. "This is Troy, my official companion. I have challenged King Rodan to the high seat, and you're going to help me win."

Something stirred in her mind as Maeve watched and relived the events. Memory or magic. It's your fault that she's involved in this.

King Rodan.

"Who is he?" Maeve had asked. "I'm from Earth. We don't believe in other worlds, so we certainly wouldn't know of a king of one."

That had brought some chuckles from around the fireside. A man sharpening a pair of daggers flashed her a quick smile before going back to his work. He had been introduced earlier as Pike, the second of Sebastian's companions.

He lost an eye later , she thought now. Sebastian took it, I think .

"King Rodan is Fae and a mad king. He knows next to nothing about how to rule the true-born citizens of the Realms. He's a monster," Sebastian said, speaking with authority.

Bethany shifted by her side, and Maeve peered at her, curious. The woman had called her a friend and stuck herself between Maeve and the group of adventurers. She had also tended to her wounds with a manner that spoke of her inherent goodness. When Maeve caught her eye, Bethany gave her a slight smile. "It's true, there's little love lost between King Rodan and the citizenry."

Maeve felt chills race down her spine, and she wondered at that now. Had there been something she had sensed, even so long ago?

"If they speak true and have challenged King Rodan," Bethany whispered to her later, "You could do worse than to travel with them. The king cannot directly attack the challenger or their companions."

"What do they do? The companions?"

"Help," Sebastian said, coming up to their huddled conversation and handing Maeve another cup of wine. "You will help me, won't you, Maeve? I need you."

It would be decades before she found out why.

But now?

Maeve had never felt needed. Discarded, tolerated, hated, exploited, wanted lustfully, detested, but never needed. She took another sip of wine and nodded. "I'll help."

Maeve twitched now, reaching for something that was not there. The bond should have remained despite the distance of worlds, yet she could not sense anything from Rodan now. Only a biting cold on what must have been her wrist.

Rodan. I want him.

You do not need him , the voices within her whispered. You are with us .

Her past beckoned, and she found herself drawn back into memory once more.

And so it was, one Realm after another, each with their own challenges. Each with their own crown. Her first foray into the fantastic.

Ishtem had its plague.

Nucifera had a Kraken to conquer.

Karst, the dragon.

Near Visantium in the Fourth Realm, they worked for weeks rebuilding and fortifying structures for the locals until the citizens themselves crowned Sebastian their king.

There, too, Maeve had been assaulted, this time by members of the imperial forces. Yet, when she screamed, she had protectors who rushed to her aid and took swift revenge upon the perpetrators. There was no lengthy court battle or endless parade of questions. There was a violent explosion of blood and gore, and Troy was carrying her back to camp while singing in the elves' strange but lovely language, while she was wrapped in their cloak.

Pike and Troy both took a heavier hand in her training after that, attempting to teach her enough so she would never be helpless again.

Despite what had happened, she had never felt closer to them both.

In the Fifth Realm, the elves were found to have angered a forest spirit, and Maeve helped Sebastian broker the agreement that brought back their song.

And then, after several long years going back and forth between Earth and the Realms, it was time for the duel. Maeve's heart broke anew to feel the hope in her younger, nineteen-year-old self, the fervent wish that she remain in the world she was starting to see as her home.

The night before the event was to take place, she found herself in the forest, and two life-changing events occurred.

She came face-to-face with King Rodan.

And she killed a woman for the magic her death would bring.

King Rodan had offered her sanctuary, a crown, and a place of belonging.

But she had chosen loyalty to her friend and the?—

Lie

—belief that King Rodan was mad, and that he was going to destroy the Realms and everything in it.

Maeve moaned, now, to watch the event unfold again. To feel the splash of scorching hot blood and the boiling levels of magic it brought with it. She rode the magic like it was a wild, bucking stallion until the duel when she used it to sever the ties binding the Fae king to his magic. While she had never done such a thing before, it came to her naturally until the moment Sebastian ran King Rodan through with his sword.

Every cell in Maeve's body screamed negation, and she stopped what she was doing, pulling away in an instant as Rodan's eyes found hers and then?—

Nothing. A blank the Nyx attempted to dig further into, but there was only darkness. Nothing but a sense of fear before returning to wakefulness inside a strange room in the castle. To find Pike by her side, telling her she had been found in the forest after being missing for the day and most of the night. He said she was talking about spirits and magic.

Days of the death magic leaving her, and yet, Maeve frowned now to see it unfold. There was a sheen to the memory that had been missing from others.

Young Maeve had crowned Sebastian as the high king, placing the crown of roses and thorns upon his brow. Then, not even an hour later, he sent her back to LA and Earth, where she had been stranded for what she thought would be the rest of her life.

They flipped faster through the years that followed. Her time in college and all the moments that the pills seemed to sing to her, to tell her to take just a few more. Finding Jen. It all went by in a whirlwind. Publishing her blog that turned into a series of books about the Realms, finding a way to reach back into this world without being in it.

Heart aching to see it all again, Maeve shuddered when the visions slowed as Rodan returned to her life. Finding her first at a fantasy convention in Los Angeles and then at her home in the Sierras. Telling her all she had known, all she had fought to bring about, had been based upon a lie.

Sebastian was the madman. Sebastian was the bloodthirsty liar he had long painted the Fae king to be.

And then Rodan brought her back.

Let her breathe deep of the crystalline air of the Realms for the first time in fifteen years. To feel magic swell within her once more. He had shown her proof of Sebastian's duplicity and shown her for the second time that he was a steady and honest man.

All that had passed between them. Every growing intimacy, every moment of moving closer to one another, the Nyx watched. Watched even when Maeve would have pulled back and had those moments spared their scrutiny.

She fought, screamed no, but they held her as a statue. Keeping her mind as open as a book.

You said yes.

I didn't mean this , she wept, but there was a strange quality to it. As though she were slipping further and further away from her own life.

I'm in Attica, aren't I?

They crooned to her, but there were no words behind the strange melody.

She felt the biting cold of the bracelet around her wrist. Keeping her from magic, from the bond, from everything that made her?—

You will have it all back and more in time.

Maeve fought harder still as memories flashed forward and then back. A dizzying array of images and sensations which left her weak. "Stop it," she whispered, finally managing to make a sound. Pushing air out through her lips felt like some sort of torture. They were chapped and bleeding, sticking together as she attempted to form words. "Please."

Why is there nothing here? The Nyx asked, stopping the moment after the first duel when Rodan had disappeared from the dueling grounds along with the sword through his chest.

The memories were nearly overlapped, one to the next. The moment Rodan's eyes were locked on hers, he disappeared, and then she woke in her borrowed chambers in the castle at Realmsgate.

Nothing between. And a sheen to those next memories as though they were not quite… real.

Maeve tried to shake her head, but she was held fast. Let me go.

The Nyx laughed.

And then a voice, silken, dark, and languid, spoke out of the darkness. "Let her go, Nyx."

The bonds around Maeve loosened at once, and she crumpled, bare arms smacking into stone. She grunted and pushed into a seated position, trying to ascertain her surroundings, but all was inky black.

Laughter, and Maeve shuddered. She felt like she had heard the cadence of this voice before.

"Hello, niece," it said. "I believe it's time we had a talk."