Page 115 of The Forever Queen

Aisling shook her head, sweat dripping down her temples after hours of training.

“Perhaps destroying my clann will demand magic rather than the blade,” Aisling said. “Forge willing.”

“Don’t be discouraged,” Peitho said. “You’ve improved greatly over the past several days.”

Hours after Simril’s baths, Aisling and Lir crashed through Niamh’s giant gateway.

Galad and Gilrel woke angry. Both the knight and handmaiden had fallen asleep against an oak, waiting on their return with no word or sign from Lir as to their whereabouts. Both were rushed inside Castle Yillen where Niamh gave them both a verbal lashing.

Galad and Peitho had occupied every hour of the past several days training her in Niamh’s ballroom for what might lie ahead. She hadn’t a moment to breathe and thankfully, neither did she have a breath to think of Lir—he who creeped into her mind if left unguarded.

She’d deceived him at Simril’s Glade, eager to understand what’d bewitched her mind. Someone or something was toying with her and she’d known from the beginning Lir’s hand played a heavy role. This much was made clear by the changelings arguing outside Simril Glade’s tower. Lir was keeping her there, away and without anyone else. And so, the memory of her mischief made her lips curl. Anduril growled hotly.

Still, it hadn’t been entirely a lie: a confession she hadn’t mustered the courage to admit to herself just yet.

“Use whatever is at your disposal,” Galad said, tearing Aisling from her thoughts. “If you cannot wield your blade, summon yourdraiocht. If you cannot summon yourdraiocht, use your wit. There is always a way, no matter how large or small,” Galad said.

The first knight clapped a hand on her shoulder, smiling encouragingly.

“And remember, never ignore your instincts,” he said. “Act quickly and confidently.”

He walked her to the threshold, nodding a farewell at Peitho as they left.

They wandered through the moving corridors of Castle Yillen, bracing against the storms when there was no covered walkway.

“How are you faring?” Galad asked Aisling as they made their way.

“Well,” Aisling said. “The blisters on my palms will fade by nightfall and by morning, I’ll be prepared for whatever comes.” Indeed, Aisling knew the mortals were on their doorstep. It was only a matter of time before they knocked down the doors and demanded blood. And so, the Sidhe world was preparing for war come morning.

Galad nodded his head.

“I’m glad,” he said. “But how are you faring after your encounter with your clann?” he asked, sapphire eyes searching her expression as they walked.

A dark coal bloomed red with hatred inside her chest at the mention of her family.

“They’ll face justice soon enough,” Aisling said, her voice short. She swatted at the image of their faces in her mind. She drowned their words and slashed the feelings they’d inspired inside her. She despised them more with each waking hour.

“They’re searching for the gateway to the Other,” Aisling said. “To destroy it.”

Galad’s lips pressed into a thin line as he considered.

“So I’ve learned,” he said. “Lir’s received word from Sakaala that their mortal fleets are circling the center of the Silver Sea. Do you believe they’ll find it, or Leshy?” he asked.

Aisling bit her bottom lip until it bled. “I hope they do.”

Galad looked at her.

“For the next time we’re reunited, will be the last,” she clarified.

Galad exhaled a laugh. “Forge willing.”

Indeed, Aisling’s clann had not only imprisoned, tortured, and murdered Galad’scaera, but Starn had branded the first knight’s flesh in remembrance of their horrors. His thirst for revenge was rich in the blue of his iris, eager to be slaked.

“And so,” Aisling said, “I’ll give you a hand in their destruction.”

Galad grinned at this.

“It would be my honor,” he said. “My honor to serve and honor your everlasting reign, Ash.”

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