Maeve gathered her cloak, sweeping it around her, and Dorian rushed forward, ducking into its shadows once more as the Fae Queen prowled out.

The guards led her down a hall, up a winding stair, and into a tower adjacent to Erawan’s. It was well-appointed in polished oak furniture and crisp linen sheets. Likely a remnant of the years this had been a human stronghold and not a home of horrors.

As the door shut behind Maeve, she leaned into the iron-studded wood and sighed.

“Do you plan to hide in that pathetic form all day?”

Dorian lunged for the gap between the door and the floor, but her black-booted foot slammed down upon his tail.

Pain speared through his bones, but her foot remained in place. His magic surged, lashing, but a dark wind wrapped talons around it, choking. Stifling.

The Fae Queen smiled down at him. “You are not a very skilled spy, King of Adarlan.”

CHAPTER 71

Dorian’s magic struggled, roaring as her dark power held him in its net. If he could turn into a wyvern and rip her head off …

But Maeve smiled, weary and amused, and lifted her foot from his poor tail. Then released her grip on his magic.

He shuddered at the dark, festering power as it caressed talons down his magic, brushed the shimmering, raw core, and vanished.

It was an effort not to gag, not to touch the pale band on his neck just to be sure it was gone.

Maeve’s smile remained on her red mouth, his magic still shivering as the feel of her power lingered. The power to break into minds, to rip apart the psyche. A different sort of enemy. One that would require another route. A reckless, fool’s route. A courtier’s route.

So he shifted, fur becoming skin, paws into hands. When he at last stood before the Fae Queen, man once more, her smile grew. “How handsome you are.”

Dorian sketched a bow. He didn’t dare reach for Damaris at his side. “How did you know?”

“You did not think I beheld you, your scent and the feel of your power, in Aelin’s memories?” She angled her head. “Though my spy did not report your interest in shifting.”

Cyrene. Horror crept through him.

Maeve strode deeper into the chamber and took up a seat on the bench before the foot of the bed, as regally as if she sat upon her throne. “How do you think the Matrons knew where to find you?”

“Cyrene was only at the camp for a day,” he managed to say.

“Do you truly believe that there are no other spiders, up there in the mountains? They all answer to her, and to me. She needed only whisper once, to the right ones, and they found me. And found the Ironteeth.” Maeve ran a hand along the lap of her gown. “Whether Erawan knows of your gifts remains to be seen. Before you killed her, Cyrene certainly informed me that you were … different.”

He did not regret killing her one bit.

“But that is neither here nor there. Cyrene is dead, and you are a long way from the arms of Manon Blackbeak.”

Dorian braced a hand on Damaris’s hilt.

Maeve smiled at the ancient sword. “It seems the Queen of Terrasen learned to share. She’s acquired quite the trove, hasn’t she?” Dorian started. If Maeve knew everything Aelin possessed—

“I know that, too,” Maeve said, her dark eyes depthless. Damaris warmed in his grip. “And know the spider did not guess at that truth, at least.” She scanned him. “Where are they now, Dorian Havilliard?”

Something slithering and sharp slid along his mind. Trying to get in—

Dorian’s magic roared. A sheet of ice slammed into those mental talons. Blasted them away.

Maeve chuckled, and Dorian blinked, finding the room also coated with frost. “A dramatic, but effective method.”

Dorian smirked at her, “You think I would be foolish enough to allow you into my mind?” Still keeping one hand on the sword, he slid the other into a pocket, if only to hide its shaking. “Or to tell you where they are hidden?”

“It was worth the attempt,” Maeve said.

“Why not sound the alarm?” was his only reply.

Maeve leaned back, studying him again. “You want what I want. Erawan has it. Does that not make you and I allies of a sort?”

“You must be mad, to think I would ever give you the keys.”

“Am I? What would you do with them, Dorian? Destroy them?”

“What would you do? Conquer the world?”

Maeve laughed. “Oh, nothing so common as that. I would make sure that Erawan and his brothers can never return.” Damaris remained warm in his hand. The queen spoke the truth. Or some part of it.

“You’ll admit so easily that you plan to betray Erawan?”

“Why do you think I came here?” Maeve asked. “My people have cast me out, and I guessed you would seek out Morath soon enough.”

Damaris’s warmth did not falter, yet Dorian said, “You cannot think I’d believe you came here to win my allegiance. Not when I saw that you plan to offer Erawan your spiders to assist his princesses.” He didn’t want to know what the Valg princesses could do. Why Erawan had delayed his unleashing of them.

“A small sacrifice on my part to win his trust.” Damaris held warm. “We are not so different, you and I. And I have nothing to lose now, thanks to your friend.”

Truth, truth, truth.

And there it was—the opening he’d been waiting for.

Keeping his mind encased in that wall of ice, his magic sizing up the enemy before them, Dorian let his hand slide from Damaris’s hilt. Let her see his thawing distrust as he said, “Aelin seems to be skilled at wrecking the kingdoms of other people while protecting her own.”

“And at letting others pay her debts.”

Dorian stilled, though his magic continued its vigil, monitoring her dark power as it paced the barrier to his mind.

“Isn’t that why you are here?” Maeve asked. “To be the sacrifice so that Aelin need not destroy herself?” She clicked her tongue. “Such a terrible waste—for either of you to pay the price for Elena’s foolishness.”

“It is.” Truth.

“Can I tell you what Aelin revealed to me, during those moments I was able to peer into her mind?”

Dorian didn’t dare reach for Damaris again. “You enslaved her,” he growled. “I don’t want to hear a damn thing about it.”

Maeve brushed her curtain of hair over a shoulder, humming. “Aelin is glad it’s you,” she merely said. “She’s hoping she’ll be too late in returning. That you’ll accomplish what you’ve set out to do and spare her from a terrible choice.”

“She has a mate and a kingdom. I don’t blame her.” The sharpness in his words wasn’t entirely faked.

“Don’t you? Don’t you have a kingdom to look after, one no less powerful and noble than Terrasen?” When he didn’t answer, Maeve said, “Aelin has been freed for weeks now. And she has not come to find you.”

“The continent is a big place.”

A knowing smile. “She could find you, if she wished. And yet she went to Anielle.”

He knew what manner of game she played. His magic slipped a fraction. An opening.

Maeve’s own lashed for it, seeking a way in. She’d barely crossed the threshold when he gritted his teeth and threw her from his mind again, the wall of ice colliding with her.

“If you want me to ally with you, you’re picking one hell of a way to show it.”

Maeve laughed softly. “Can you blame me for trying?”

Dorian didn’t answer, and stared at her for a long minute. Made a show of considering. Every bit of courtly intrigue and training kept his face unreadable. “You think I’d betray my friends that easily?”

“Is it betrayal?” Maeve mused. “To find an alternative to you and Aelin Galathynius paying the ultimate price? It was what I intended for her all along: to keep her from being a sacrifice to unfeeling gods.”

“Those gods are powerful beings.”

“Then where are they now?” She gestured to the room, the keep. Silence answered. “They are afraid. Of me, of Erawan. Of the keys.” She gave him a serpent’s smile. “They are afraid of you. You, and Aelin Fire-Bringer. Powerful enough to send them home—or to damn them.”

He didn’t answer. She wasn’t entirely wrong.

“Why not defy them? Why bow to their wishes? What have they ever done for you?”

Sorscha’s pained face flashed before his eyes.

“There is no other way,” he said at last. “To end this.”

“The keys could end it.”

To wield them, rather than seal them back into the gate.

“They could do anything,” Maeve went on. “Destroy Erawan, banish those gods back to their home if that’s what they want.” She angled her head. “Open another door to realms of peace and resting.”

To the woman who would undoubtedly be there.

The dark, predatory power stalking his mind faded away, pulled back to its mistress.

Aelin had done it once. Opened a door to see Nehemia. It was possible. The encounters with Gavin and Kaltain only confirmed it.

“What if you didn’t only ally with me,” he asked at last, “but with Adarlan itself?”

Maeve didn’t answer. As if she were surprised by the offer.

“A bigger alliance than merely working together to find the key,” Dorian mused, and shrugged. “You have no kingdom, and clearly want another. Why not lend your gifts to Adarlan, to me? Bring your spiders to our side.”

“A breath ago, you were livid that I enslaved your friend.”

“Oh, I still am. Yet I am not so proud to refuse to consider the possibility. You want a kingdom? Then join mine. Ally with me, work with me to get what we need from Erawan, and I shall make you queen. Of a far bigger territory, with a people who will not rise up against you. A new start, I suppose.”

When she still did not speak, Dorian leaned against the door. The portrait of courtly nonchalance. “You think I’m trying to trick you. Perhaps I am.”

“And Manon Blackbeak? What of your promises to her?”

“I have made her no promises regarding my throne, and she wants nothing to do with them, anyway.” He didn’t hide the bitterness as he shrugged again. “Marriages have been built on far more volatile foundations than this one.”