Page 20 of The Forever Queen

“It isn’t often we communicate, considering all interaction with the Other is dealt in invitations,” Filverel explained. “But once a year, each Sidhe sovereign is invited to the Other for Niamh’s celebration. One of the only times of the year one can step into the gods’ plane and not be carried away by the Other’s death galleon. The second isSamhain, of course.”

“And the celebrations are always marvelous,” Peitho said. “The gowns, the music, Castle Yillen…” Peitho trailed off, eyes sparkling with memories.

Aisling perked up.

“So, why has Aisling received more than one invitation from Ina previously?” Gilrel asked. Ina, Lir and Fionn’s mother—the Seelie queen of the mountains and the reason for the existence of mortals.

“An answer I assume sits with Niamh,” Lir said, taking a sip from his goblet. Filverel and Galad nodded their heads in agreement.

Aisling’s brow furrowed. “What happened to those Sidhe who chose to return without invitation?”

“Those who snuck into the Other uninvited?” Gilrel clarified.

“They were fed to demons this plane knows not of,” Frigg growled. “Monsters your nightmares couldn’t fathom, but that roam the Other hungry for fleshling souls, sucking on bones and slobbering over rotting corpses.”

Aisling’s stomach knotted.

“He’s toying with you,mo Lúra,” Fionn said, hissing something beneath his breath to Frigg.

“So, there are no monsters?”

“No, there are,” Fionn confessed and the pit in Aisling’s stomach deepened. “But no one knows what happens to those Sidhe who venture uninvited. Only that they never return. Most believe they’re either slaughtered by the gods themselves, boiled in the Forge, or, in my opinion, stuck between worlds.”

Stuck.

Aisling shuddered. “Then for what reason would Ina summon me to the Other in the past?”

Glances darted back and forth across the table, perhaps searching for the answers none bore. Indeed, Ina had invited Aisling on several occasions—the first being a few weeks after she’d first arrived in Annwyn: a garden snake had led her down Ina’s wing and revealed the previous Seelie queen’s fountain and portal to the Other.

“Ina was clever enough to hide Racat and thus, the curse breaker, in the den of the thief himself: Nemed, his utmost desire buried deep inside his daughter’s heart,” Galad said. “He who leads the race Ina created by accident from the bones of her very people.”

Both Lir and Fionn bristled.

“Surely she never anticipated he nor his son would be willing to carve such victories from the chest of their only daughter and sister,” Peitho rationalized.

“No,” Gilrel said, “she didn’t. Aisling is Ina’s gift from the gods by nature. She wouldn’t have ever subjected her to such a fate.”

It felt likely enough and yet, the uncertainty all felt toward Ina’s intentions vegetated in the room—stank until every nose wrinkled with the anxiety of the unknown. The inevitable fear of what they were willingly stepping into.

Lir cleared his throat.

“What does the letter say?”

The room’s attention returned to the parchment in Filverel’s hand.

The advisor unrolled the letter and pinned it to the table with an ivory knife.

When the days lengthen and the wildlings crawl from their slumber,

Woke by warm breezes, by berries, by nuts—your hunger,

They’ll come with the rain.

When the ice melts and the forest thaws, crying out in pain,

The clouds will gather and break,

And the seedlings will be slaked.

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