Page 13 of The Forever Queen

“Or to Racat’s physical body in the gorge,” Lir continued, switching tongues effortlessly, “whoever will relish his death more.”

“No,” Fionn hissed so softly, only Aisling could hear. The panic in his voice, splintering something inside her. “You provoked me!”

“Take him now!” Lir yelled, his temper growing as each of his knights hesitated. Hands on the hafts of their age-old blades, yet their boots firmly planted on the ground.

Aisling gritted her teeth, forcing herself to meet their terrified expressions. Their fae features riddled with the haunting future Fionn described. That the Lady described. That Danu described. Each and all, forewarning of Lir and Aisling’s union. Of Aisling’s inability to save them. And a part of Lir’s knights…believed it.

Galad, Gilrel, Peitho, Filverel—all had witnessed what Aisling and Lir’s magic was capable of when they were together. Immense power but also inevitable destruction. And yet,Imbolchadn’t yet shown what a full release of either of theirdraiochtwould look like. Perhaps, such a demonstration would be the last, Aisling realized to her own horror.

“Take him now!” Lir shouted again, the surrounding trees groaning with his rage.

“Wait,” Aisling said as Galad charged forward first, his jaw clenched even as he bit through the paranoia. Their enemy’s words that’d slipped through the cracks of Castle Annwyn like a vine between stones.

Aisling dared not meet Lir’s gaze, afraid as any other of his wrath.

Galad grabbed Fionn—Cathan and Einri shortly behind. They pinned Fionn’s arms behind his back, thorns climbing up his legs and around his wrists.

They tied Frigg’s muzzle too, even as he clawed, and his barks were smothered. And if the belt could’ve aided Fionn in escaping Annwyn altogether, he never used it. Instead, he surrendered to Lir’s knights and looked to Aisling until Anduril broke from the son of Winter’s hips, slithering down his robes like a snake till it clinked against the marble of Lir’s hall. Aisling eyed it, compelled to approach it by its otherworldly humming. A siren’s call, enticing her nearer.

“Lir, stop,” Aisling said, at last mustering the courage to spin on her heel and face the fae king.

His expression promised violence, tattooed hands white at the knuckles. And Aisling thanked the Forge the axes crossed at his throne weren’t in his grip.

“He speaks only in mischief and tricks,” Lir said, his voice terrifyingly soft as the fog before the storm.

“And yet he speaks the truth,” Aisling said.

Lir’s face shuddered, eyes widening with the horror of Aisling’s words before he settled, once more, into quiet, shadowy rage.

He turned from Aisling and faced his throne, broad shoulders eclipsing him. This was Lir’s way of ignoring—ofwillingthe existence of this one, tragic truth into black oblivion. A gesture that shattered something in Aisling she couldn’t quite describe. His back to her, a door slammed in the face.

“This might be the answer we’ve been searching for! My father has made use of dark spells and magic, we’ve all seen it and experienced it for ourselves!” Aisling yelled at Lir. “If we’re to survive, we must also make use of every advantage possible. At whatever cost.”

The Seelie king didn’t react, didn’t move, didn’t speak. His mood thinly veiled by the groaning of the surrounding trees. So, Aisling climbed the steps of the dais, her skirts in one hand and the other reaching for Lir’s arm so she could force him to face her. Her shoulder aching from her still tender arrow wound.

Lir turned and leaned toward her, dipping his chin as though to kiss her. As though to slide his hands around her waist and pull her close. To press his lips against her own and feel the rise and fall of her breast against his chest. To run his fingers through her hair.

Still, Lir didn’t move further. Didn’t flinch. He didn’t need to. The maple leaves blooming from the antlers of their thrones, the redslips hanging overhead, the bark of every surrounding yew, and ash, and pine, and oak, bursting into flame, spoke for him. Every lick of flame rising toward the rafters with the pace of Aisling’s heart.

“The world will burn if we continue this way,” Aisling whispered, watching as he focused on her lips. “And then, we will have nothing.”

“Then let it burn,” Lir said. “Let it burn so long as you do not.”

Aisling shut her eyes, the ache in her chest budding painfully.

“Perhaps,” Aisling began, “perhaps, there’s a future where we can have everything.”

Everything.

The word hung between them, dripping with meaning like honey.

Lir’s knights held Fionn firmly in their grip, his thorns digging into the flesh of his wrists and Frigg’s muzzle the more they struggled.

“Perhaps we won’t need to choose between each other and ruling—bearing dominion over everything. Perhaps, there’s a way we can have both. But we cannot continue as we have…lest Danu, the Lady, and mankind use our recklessness—our weaknesses against us,” Aisling said. “My father is more powerful than ever. You’ve seen the smoke in their eyes, the fire between their teeth, the strength of their iron.”

Lir searched her violet eyes for what felt like an eternity, weighing her words in his mind. He ran his fingers through his dark hair, biting his bottom lip with his fangs.

“Is this what you want?” Lir asked at last. “In a few decades, I intend for your clann to perish—mortal flesh and bone no more than the ash from which they were born. On the other hand, what you covet is everlasting, and the risks…costly. If this is merely vengeance for the crimes of your father, your brother, I’ll capture them for you, bend their crowns with my bare hands, and make them sing their apologies to you through pained and gnarled voices…”

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