Page 107 of The Forever Queen

Niamh shifted, her veil falling further down her back where she’d folded it over her head.

Galad held onto her every word, his eyes narrowed as he thought.

“Was it man who did that?” Galad asked. “Or Aisling?”

“Indeed, war has brought our Sidhe kingdoms to their knees and forced us to retreat together, here in the Other, but it is the hope we all place in Aisling that unifies us. That every beast, every forge-born creature, every monster, every Sidhe, and every bairn is looking to. Whether they be grisly monster or Seelie queen, we look to her now.” Niamh gulped. “Ilook to her now. I must for she is our only hope.”

Galad exhaled, exhaustion sitting heavily on his shoulders. His eyes studied the Seelie queen and then the statue of Arawn behind her. He weighed her for longer than Niamh believed necessary, but she tolerated it. She endured his judgment for she knew helping Aisling was the only path.

“You wish to align yourself with Aisling and Lir fully?” Galad asked.

“Aye,” Niamh said. “I believe Aisling and I can close the gate before the mortals enter or destroy it entirely.”

Galad ground his fangs against his bottom teeth, seemingly deep in thought. His sapphire blade, dimming in thought as well, it appeared.

“And yet, I maintain that you cannot be trusted,” Galad insisted, crossing his arms over his chest.

Niamh frowned.

“Not a soul in this castle or Castle Annwyn is exempt from the tragedy of their own decisions,” Niamh said. Every word weighed with exhaustion. “Filverel, Lir’s advisor,” Niamh called out. “Had your king listened to his advice and slaughtered Aisling the night of their union, the Sidhe would be doomed.”

Galad shifted but didn’t relent. He remained quiet, staring straight ahead at the statue of Arawn.

“Peitho,” Niamh said. “Her duty to your Niltaor and the South is unfulfilled. With no union with the high king of all the Sidhe and the power of Racat, her kingdom remains in rubble.”

Galad turned to the side, understanding dawning on his expression.

“Gilrel,” Niamh focused on next, “her loyalty and courage know no bounds and yet, you played a role in her sister’s death.”

Galad held his breath for he seemingly knew what came next.

“And Galad,” Niamh continued. “He who failed to protect his owncaerafrom the violence of man.”

Galad didn’t flinch. He held himself straight, keeping Niamh’s stare as she spoke.

“And myself,” Niamh said. “She, whose isolation, indeed, drove her to lunacy at the cost of my dearest friend…Ina.”

Lightning flashed and the stained-glass portraits doubled over in tears.

“And yet,” Niamh said, “I wish to help.”

Galad uncrossed his arms, his expression softening slightly.

“I mean no disrespect, m’Lady.” Galad dipped his head respectfully whilst still maintaining cool confidence. “But whilst your power might protect you from formal consequence, it will not when weighed and measured by public perception. We’ve all witnessed how the Unseelie and even the forge-born can turn on their sovereigns and wage inner conflict, and so, how long will your reign last if the Sidhe world knew of your sins against Ina?”

Niamh flinched as if physically struck, pursing her lips and weighing Galad’s sentiments in her mind. “Fate,” the Seelie queen began, “is the fourth anonymous god. It creates, it breaks, and it never sleeps. My hand in Ina’s death was a tool used by the will of fate to accomplish its ends. The choice is yours to either believe me or condemn me, and yet, in time you’ll each come to recognize this truth for yourselves; your agency is a gift taken often and mercilessly by the crown of fate itself.” Niamh sucked in a breath before exhaling. “Ina was always destined to die whether it be by my folly or another’s.”

Galad stood quietly, turning her rationale over in his mind. The great hall boasted seven souls all bearing the weight of centuries on their backs. Niamh, however, carried a millennium.

“I boarded the galleon in which Ina sailed into the afterlife of the Other. I kissed her cheeks and wept by her body, staining the silver of her hair with my tears. One last time, she opened her eyes. And one last time, she shared a vision with me:

Black is the sky with smoke, huffed between the clenched teeth of iron beasts. Red is the color of the soil in which they reap their crops, puddled with the ichor of their wild conquests. White are their lies with which they poison their new world, erasing the natural history like books burned in piles. But green and violet are the tales whose heart still beats beneath the waves, within the wind, just beyond mortal touch.

Niamh closed her eyes, her hands shaking at her sides. She dug her nails into her palms as she gathered her hands into fists, exhaling slowly.

“I cannot claim to understand this vision fully. But, in some capacity, the mortals will triumph over the Sidhe—this, Ina has foreseen. I believe both Aisling and Lir are pieces fate moves often across the board in which we find ourselves, either for the sake of our damnation or salvation—of this, I am uncertain. The only thing I am certain of, is that there is hope,” Niamh said. “I choose to believe Ina placed the curse breaker and the power of change in Aisling—of transformation—for a reason.”

The room stood still, books pausing mid-air to better eavesdrop.

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