39. Maeve

Itoppled backwards. The world flipped around me, the grass falling over my head and the dark sky becoming a blanket beneath me. I toppled head over heels, my stomach lurching.

I slammed into something hard, my body jerking, as something heavy in my arms struggled to wriggle free.

I sat up with a start. Darkness surrounded me. I rubbed my eyes, and gradually, the room came into view. A dark wood ceiling. Swords hanging from wrought-iron chandeliers, bare wattle and daub walls and iron hooks for tapestries.

I was back in Briarwood, back in the real world.

I glanced down at the bundle in my arms, peeling away the top layer of blanket. Connor’s big eyes stared back at me. His face was all scrunched up, and a tiny fist flailed out from one corner of the blanket.

“Hey, little one.” I cradled him against my chest. “You’re home again. We’re gonna get you back to your mommy as soon as we can.”

Bodies scuffled and couches creaked as the guys started to wake up. Flynn sat up and stretched one arm in the air, his lean body extending like a cat. The second baby in his arms mashed a tiny fist into his chest. Rowan’s dark lashes flickered open, and he rubbed his cheek where a long cut marred his dark skin. Arthur rolled over and narrowly managed to avoid impaling himself on his own sword, which he once again gripped in his trembling fingers.

“We did it,” I grinned. “We actually fucking traveled to the fae realm in a dream and lived to tell the tale.”

“You did it.” Arthur winced as he touched a finger to a long tear across his shoulder. “That was some seriously powerful magic you pulled off, bringing us all into the dream with you and pulling us out right at that exact moment.”

“I guess we know what your power is now,” Flynn said. “You are one badass dreamwalker.”

I beamed. “So crisis averted?”

“For now.” Arthur prodded Corbin’s still-sleeping figure with the toe of his boot. “After the damage we did, I doubt the fae will be coming back for more children any time soon?—”

“I don’t mean to bollix up the celebrations,” Flynn said, his gaze focused on a dark shape on the floor. “We have a problem.”

I whirled around. There, on the floor next to Flynn’s couch, his hands crossed behind his head and a flirtatious smile on his face, was Blake.