Page 40 of The Forever Queen

But it wasn’t the books or the shelves or the statues that alarmed Aisling.

It was the singing books, eager for Aisling to appreciate their voices.

“Ignore them,” Niamh said as she continued forward. “Lest they never leave you alone.”

Aisling nodded her head, but she couldn’t resist the rich hues of their leather bindings, the smell of their dusty pages, or how they flapped their covers like a bird’s wings. The sorceress tucked her hair behind her ears, listening a little closer to their words.

They sang songs, chanting titles in their choruses like “Niamh’s Storm Cloud,” “The Book of Sarwen,” “Legendary Objects of Other,” “Chorus of the Gods,” and more. Aisling listened more intently, hoping to hear a melody written about the Goblet of Lore.

Seven storm seasons come but never go.

Come child, I hear the wild horns blow.

Aisling paused, intrigued by the melody of this book. Niamh however, looked straight ahead, uncaring or unaware of Aisling’s growing interest despite her warnings.

Psalms of Rain, was inscribed on the front of the book in a humble, cerulean binding.

“A collection of nursery rhymes,” Niamh said without turning. Aisling shuddered, wondering if Niamh had eyes on the back of her head. “A useless tome.”

Aisling plucked the book from where it flew regardless. Niamh didn’t react, approaching the door at the opposing end of the library where they’d exit.

Aisling hurriedly opened the book and flipped through its pages.

“Spring’s Herald”, “Teardrops of Tempest”, and “The Architect of Yillen” were among the various songs the book sang if Aisling hesitated on a page for more than a breath. And perhaps it was “The Architect of Yillen’s” haunting melody that encouraged her to wait a breath longer than the rest.

Seven storm seasons come but never go.

Come child, I hear the wild horns blow.

A western faerie weeps, broken by a lonely heart,

Cursed to the Other, destined to live apart.

Listen to the rain, child

But don’t be beguiled

For a faerie will drown you in her tears

Or she’ll steal you away for years

Just so that she might not be so lonely.

‘If only, if only,’

The gods watched in horror

As the Other stormed for her.

‘A gift will bring you joy, faerie,’

The gods said so she might, at long last, be merry.

‘Gift me a friend only,’

The faerie said, ‘so that I might not be so lonely.’

So the gods, with tearful eyes, gave her a Goblet

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