Page 106 of The Forever Queen

Galad, Lir’s first knight, leveled his gaze with the Seelie queen, singing “The Architect of Yillen” from memory.

Listen to the rain, child

But don’t be beguiled

For she’ll drown you in her tears

Or she’ll steal you away for years

To her castle in the sky

Just so that she might not be so lonely.

If only, if only.

Galad finished, the room descending into silence save for the perpetual beating of the outside storms.

“Your reputation precedes you, Lady,” Galad said, calm as the woodland yarrow in midsummer. His sapphire eyes did not yield, his back straight, and his boots planted onto her marbled floors.

Niamh sat still as prey cornered as if feigning death. She didn’t speak, did not move, did not blink until, at last, she’d collected herself.

Niamh straightened, throat bobbing as she swallowed.

“Where did you hear that song?” she asked.

Galad smiled. “Your libraries are a wealth of knowledge, my queen.”

Niamh’s nostrils flared, but she didn’t protest nor deny the narrative of the melody. By blood, she was bound to speak the truth and alas, it’d already been sung.

Niamh rubbed her temples, the outside storms hushing into a “pitter patter” against the library’s dome.

At last, the Seelie queen of Rain and high queen of the Other met Galad’s eyes, measuring him before speaking.

“You interrupt me,” Niamh said.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Galad replied, holding his ground. His blue eyes were striking even when draped in shadow.

“You know not of what you speak,” Niamh replied.

“Does it matter? There is no trust between us,” Galad said.

“It will be your loss if you do not,” Niamh argued.

“Is that so?” Galad challenged. “For as far as I can tell, a Seelie queen with a hidden motivation sneaks through her own castle when she believes none are looking, praying to a god that’s slept for centuries.”

“My only motivation is to aid Aisling,” Niamh maintained, lifting her chin in defiance.

“So you pray for the gods to return something?” Galad asked.

“You cannot understand?—”

“Maybe not,” Galad confessed, “but it hardly matters. My duty is to protect both my king and queen. Stand before me and I’ll not hesitate to repay your crimes—Seelie queen or not.”

Niamh’s eyes darted to Galad’s sapphire blade strapped to his back. It winked when lightning flashed and lit the room, greeting the Seelie queen of Rain in turn.

They stood face to face for a long while, neither surrendering to the other’s calculated suspicion. They were at a stalemate, accompanied by Arawn’s thick breath and the beating of the outside storm.

“My relationship with Lir, his mother, and now his bride is complex,” Niamh confessed, releasing a heavy breath. “I have fought against my lonely fate for as long as I can remember, forsaken at the edge of the world. I’d initially hoped Aisling would be my salvation from such a fate at long last. A gift from Ina after years of suffering alone in my castle. But the once-mortal princess did what no Sidhe, Seelie, or Unseelie could: she brought our worlds together.”

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