Page 33 of The Forever Queen

So, Lir lunged first.

Before their audience of trees could blink, Lir cut through the water, axes in hand and swung for the creature. A spell of violence as the demon shrieked in pain, writhing while it snapped in search of the Sidhe king. Nevertheless, Lir was too quick for the seeing eye, much less that which saw nothing at all, hopelessly spearing in the dark.

Lir lunged again, this time with more force, separating the questing beast’s neck from its body.

The beast collapsed into the wetland and sank into its depths. Black blood rising to the surface and clouding the waters till nothing was visible.

Lir sheathed his axes at his back and wiped the splattered blood from his face with the back of his sleeve. And as if conjured by the boom of the monster’s last heartbeat, Lir’s spirit sank, caving in at the chest. A part of him perished with the forge-born. For Lir knew better than most that he boasted no moral high ground to the questing beast. Lir was simply stronger. And so, he dreaded to reap the lives of the creatures who loved the forest’s shadows as much as he himself. But this was the nature of the greenwood whether it be in the mortal plane or the Other. Only the deadliest survived. A game forged by the forest’s hands and forced its dwellers to play. And eventually, they all grew to enjoy it.

“Did Niamh send you?” an unfamiliar voice called from the forest’s edge.

This time, Lir was taken off guard.

The Sidhe king of greenwood turned, unsheathing his axes at the same moment. But before him was not a monster, nor a man, nor a Sidhe. Rather, a fox stood between two gnarled yews, cloaked in a hood.

“Tell me the truth and nothing more for I’m well aware of the tricks your kind spins with a silver spindle,” the fox said, holding a humble wych elm staff like a sword.

Lir’s shoulders and axes lowered.

The fox was old, speckled with gray around his brows and muzzle. And by the subtle quiver of his left knee, Lir knew the staff was primarily used for walking and not spell-casting.

“What do you know of my kind?” Lir asked, more to toy with the fiend than anything else.

“By the point of your ears and the arrogance of your posture, you’re undoubtedly some Aos Sí thief come to steal from me once more.”

Lir chuckled beneath his breath.

“You deny your Aos Sí blood?” the fox pushed.

“Call me nightmare, for that is all I am to you.” Lir flashed a playful grin, yet still the fox was unamused, encouraging Lir further.

“I warn you!” the fox shouted again.

“We were invited by Niamh to the Other,” Lir said, “but she hasn’t sent me here. At least that I know of. We were meant to arrive at Niamh’s castle in time forL? Brearthis evening.”

The fox studied the Sidhe king more closely, taking in the sight of him.

“We?” the fox asked.

Although soaked, Lir was dressed for a royal occasion. Splattered red, his formal garments tested and tried by the portal to the Other and then the questing beast.

Lir’s nostrils flared, angered by the reality he wasn’t with Aisling.

“I’ve been separated from my queen,” Lir said.

The fox considered him for a long while. Their audience of trees swayed back and forth, whispering to one another.

“Friends of Niamh are no friends of mine,” the fox growled. But despite his expression, the beast lowered his staff.

“We are neither friends nor allies of Niamh,” Lir confessed. “Our business is our own, but we can swear by the Forge that we mean you no harm.”

The fox considered, mumbling something grumpily beneath his breath. Most forge-born creatures were hatched or laid with tempers beyond their bite.

“I would, however,” Lir continued, “request a map to Castle Yillen. I must reach Niamh’s kingdom byL? Brearthis evening.”

“Those in a hurry are always up to no good,” the fox said.

“Perhaps,” Lir agreed. “But it’s a request I implore regardless.”

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