Page 128 of The Forever Queen

Aisling and Niamh exchanged smiles, prolonging the inevitable. But it was time. The moment made clear as the gateway shuddered to life with a violet boom.

Her father was here.

CHAPTER LVIII

LIR

Lir blazed through the meadow. From the lip of the woods, the field stretched before him like a legion of tall grasses, reigned over by the mammoth ash tree at its center.

The skies darkened with the storm looming overhead. And even from here, Lir could see the black rot oozing along the base of the gateway.

Lir cursed. He skidded to a stop just before the gateway, staring it up and down. His wings folded behind him, and silently, he thanked them for doing what his feet could not: delivering him to the end so that he might stand by Aisling at the gateway. A final favor. And now, the gateway was opening.

“Aisling!” he shouted.

Both Aisling and Niamh turned on their heel to see him. Their mouths fell open not expecting to see the fae king here and now, and especially not with wings. Niamh, however, collected herself quickly, smiling proudly at the wings spread behind him. She winked at the Sidhe lord and Lir could’ve sworn he heard Arawn’s laughter in the thunder up above.

“Lir?” Aisling called back, staring at him as he defeated the distance between himself and the gateway, pried open by iron from the other side. Sparks flew from the warped surface of the gateway, bending and breaking at odd angles. One moment, the door was like water, and the next, it hardened to stone, then oak, then glass, desperately trying to rebuild itself as the iron cut deeper and deeper. It stretched then shrank, releasing spine-chilling groans from the tree itself being pulled apart limb by limb. A torturous affair that rattled even the rotted woods of the Other.

“Destroy the gate, Aisling!” Lir shouted. “I’ll do my best to keep it closed until you break it fully.”

Aisling nodded her head, resolve lighting her violet eyes. She hesitated on his wings but seemingly resolved to speak of it later. After, once they had a moment to breathe—once victory was theirs—they’d have an eternity together to speak about everything.

At once, Lir placed his naked palm against its trunk despite the grin. The tree jerked side to side, overwhelmed with the sudden burst of Lir’s magic. The tree shrieked till Aisling refused herself the urge to cover her ears. She needed her hands, her power, her full force. Her palms slick with the gateway’s blood, sap, and tears as she worked.

The Sidhe king closed his eyes, concentrating. This tree was unlike any he’d ever spoken to: it was older, stranger, more mischievous than any creature he’d harbored or grown in his forests. It carried the depth and sorrow of the beginning of time and the celebration of its end. Its voice echoed, afraid and in pain.

It was time. He couldn’t keep it closed anymore.

“The mortals,” Lir said. “They’re here.”

CHAPTER LIX

AISLING

Aisling’s blood turned cold. Niamh sent bolts of lightning across the sky, begging the other Sidhe sovereigns to come and aid them. They received silence in response—the three of them alone at the foot of the gateway.

The sorceress shook her head, eyes vacant. The gateway was a colossal tree, split at the center to reveal a doorway. And despite Lir’s efforts—desperately trying to keep it shut—it was opening regardless.

Aisling approached the gateway, the Goblet in hand.

“Aisling!” Lir screamed, he pulled her back, catching her in his arms. They both fell to the floor with her momentum, finding their footing swiftly thereafter. Through the shimmering surface of the gateway, Aisling saw them: her clann’s faces flashing beyond the gateway when their iron punctured deeply enough to cause significant damage. Leshy’s blood and sap spraying Aisling’s horror-stricken expression.

Her clann, the mortals, mankind, stood on the other side, their fire and iron weapons in hand. Nemed smiled at his daughter, the sight of which rendered Aisling ill. Her brothers stood closely beside him, staring into the Other like a bairn devours a new world. And yet, it was not meant for them. The sorceress was overcome with pure, undiluted rage.

They were close. Just on the other side of the world. Their eyes met and Aisling felt their shared blood heat.

“Aisling,” Nemed said, his voice corrupted by the mayhem and the writhing of the gateway as it struggled to stay alive. His eyes burned red and fire spread behind them like a column of flame, hungry to devour the Other as soon as it was allowed. Leshy’s cries ringing into oblivion. A group of men stood in rows behind them, their eyes glazed over and dead. Chills wracked Aisling’s body. This was how they’d done it—survived despite her scorching of their mortal fleets. The Lady had brought them here with dark spells and forced wills.

Wystria.

“Father,” she said although she hadn’t meant to.

“I love you dearly,” her father shouted back, rewarded by the glistening, jealous eyes of her brothers. Especially Starn. Smoke spilling from their lips. “But you forget your duty to humankind.”

“And you forget your duty to your kin,” Aisling replied, her body numb, hair wicking wildly in the wind of their mutual destruction.

“The fate of mankind is larger than myself or you, Aisling. That is what you must fight for,” her father said. “Sacrifice yourself for the greater good. Be as kingly as either I or your brothers for once. Do the right thing and honor your blood…for this once.”

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