Page 111 of The Forever Queen

Lir looked down at his burns. Still, they bled, purified by Simril’s waters despite their gnarled appearance.

“I’ll survive,” Lir said, unable to help the way the corner of his lip curled.

Aisling didn’t mirror his expression, nor did she soften. A smile received from Aisling was a victory and a laugh, a celebration. And so her stoicism now stoked his hunger to chase the high her joy inspired.

“May I?” Aisling asked, gesturing to his wounds.

Lir nodded, his smile fading as she leaned forward.

“You can relax,” Aisling said.

“I am relaxed,” Lir countered, eyes darting toward the axes at the edge of the pools and not strapped to his back. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d undone his bandolier in the presence of another, even Aisling. He hadn’t anticipated she’d come searching for him and, somehow, she’d caught him both off guard and unprepared.

Like ink, Aisling’s hair slipped over her left shoulder as she leaned further.

“Do these—” She hesitated, eyes flicking to his before falling once more to her trembling fingertips. “Do these still pain you?” she asked.

Lir nodded his head, his heart thumping in his throat.

Torturously, Aisling’s nails brushed his bare flesh, tracing the edge of his wounds with her fingertips as if exploring their violence.

Lir shut his eyes, his entire body stiffening like stone.

Aisling paused, biting her bottom lip before speaking. “I can stop if you’re?—”

“No,” Lir said, despising himself for saying it so quickly. He hungered for her touch. For the smell of her dusky perfume, the sound of her voice, the vibration of herdraiochtrubbing against his own when she was near. And he knew she felt it too. Felt it and didn’t understand its energy: an intense compulsion to move closer to the other—to let go and sink their teeth into one another’s magic.

Thankfully, Simril Glade was a sacred haven of both serenity and peace. Those forces did well against the might of Aisling and Lir’s bond but couldn’t stifle their energy entirely.

Aisling resumed her work, growing more confident as she continued. Finally, she reached the worst of the blisters scarring the side of his abdomen. Her eyes grew wide till all the whites were visible, her fingers freezing in place.

“So this is what mortal fire does to Sidhe flesh,” Aisling said, running her eyes over the gory mess. Indeed, Lir healed swiftly and efficiently from all wounds unless they were dealt by either iron or fire. And this time, even Leshy’s tears had struggled to mend him fully.

“I knew,” Aisling confessed, “but never have I seen it up close.”

Aisling didn’t remember. Didn’t remember him or the experiences they’d shared. For Aislinghadseen the destruction of her flames on Sidhe flesh up close—several times before. Scars Lir cherished. Anduril demanded she forget Lir, attempting to unravel all that’d inspired her love for the dark lord.

Lir clenched his jaw, turning his head away instinctively.

Aisling frowned, considering the Sidhe king through tired eyes.

“Why can’t I remember you?” Aisling asked at last. The question took Lir off guard, demanding his full attention. In some capacity, Aisling was aware all was not as it should be.

You do not need to remember. He is only destruction. He is only your loss, Anduril said, buzzing hotly, speaking more quickly.

“Sometimes,” Lir said, as matter-of-factly as he could manage, “it is better to forget.”

“But, you haven’t forgotten,” Aisling said. Her violet eyes devoured him—the intensity of her gaze, overwhelming.

“No,” Lir confessed, “I haven’t.”

Against his own volition, the Sidhe king’s eyes wandered toward her lips. Raspberry red, they hid two growing fangs, sparkling with hunger. Lir swallowed, swatting away thoughts of his own fangs chewing on her bottom lip.

“Promise me you’ll never love Aisling again.” Niamh said, her voice strained and quick. “Promise me you’ll let Aisling go.”

“I promise,” Lir said and the Forge boomed like a drum, snapping lightning and thunder in its fury, threatening to crack the skies in half. The Other and the mortal plane both, trembling with the finality of their high bargain.

The memory struck Lir like an arrow. He hissed from the pain of it, his nose wrinkling.

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