Page 43 of The Forever Queen

L? Brearhad begun.

CHAPTER XVI

AISLING

Niamh took Aisling’s hand and squeezed it tightly. Their hands fit perfectly together, the warmth of the gesture giving Aisling reason for pause. A part of her wanted to pull away. To snatch her hand back. And another part found she craved this affection. It made Aisling feel as if she belonged. The Other, a home she could grow to love: a realization that only made her ends that much more desperate.

And as if Niamh read her thoughts, she dipped her chin and looked Aisling in the eyes.

“You could belong here,” Niamh said. “Forever.”

Aisling focused on Niamh’s expression, studying the swelling of her pupils as she considered the sorceress with an unnerving intensity.

“My home is Annwyn,” Aisling said without thinking. She hadn’t given much consideration to what would become of her life after she’d taken vengeance against the mortals. She’d been so focused on achieving everything she’d ever desired that she hadn’t spared a moment to wonder…what then?

“And from that throne you’ll rule beside the Sidhe king for eternity?” Niamh pushed. Aisling’s brow furrowed and suddenly her mouth grew dry. The premise felt correct: Aisling and the fae king would rule from the heart of the Sidhe and heat the Great Forge of Creation until both this plane and the next bubbled with thedraiochtand their power. The images fluttered through Aisling’s mind like visions seen through the rippling surface of the Isle of Mirrors.

Anduril growled softly as if warning Aisling of its temper if her mind wandered too far. Her mind snapped like burning braids and the visions collapsed into dread that filled her chest.

Nightmare king, deceiver, villain, Anduril chanted inside her mind, reminding her why she despised the fae king.

“From that throne,” Anduril spoke through Aisling’s lips, “I’ll rule alone.”

“Mercy be upon your Sidhe king,” Niamh said, barely a whisper. Aisling shook her head, ripping thoughts like gossamer—either hers or Anduril’s, she could no longer tell the difference.

“The Sidhe king?” Aisling asked, grasping for clarity.

“Lir—yourcaera,” Niamh said, speaking his name like a bygone curse better left forgotten.

Racat whimpered the moment Anduril muzzled him quiet. Aisling felt her heart tear in two, her mind muddled. Anduril’s voice and her own warring for attention as she desperately tore at the tangles of her thoughts. The longer Anduril settled on her hips, the more Anduril felt as essential to her body as the bones that built her. Yet, the longer Anduril armored her, the more Aisling couldn’t differentiate its voice from her own—its thoughts from her own.

Something was wrong. Aisling couldn’t put her finger on it, but Niamh bore some responsibility for separating herself and the fae king.

Wondering about Lir’s whereabouts was starting to bubble between Aisling’s thoughts, conscious or unconscious, swiftly punished by Anduril’s intensity.

Niamh’s words had struck a chord in Aisling. The tone of Niamh’s voice suggested the Seelie queen foundjoyin the fae king’s misfortune or potential for it. Niamh wasn’t being entirely forthcoming. And while the Sidhe couldn’t tell a lie, they could tangle you between words until the truth was no longer so evident.

Aisling would expose Niamh’s intentions soon enough whether they be aligned with her own or not. But she couldn’t forget to tread lightly. Aisling still needed Niamh’s adoration if she were to convince the Seelie queen to bless her pursuit of the Goblet and replace her as the gods’ favored one.

“Think no more of it as we celebrate this evening,” Niamh said, “my sorceress champion.”

Aisling nodded her head, doing her best to convince Niamh she believed her. Widening her eyes with the same naivety that’d consumed her when she was a Tilrish princess traded to the Aos Sí. And had Aisling been the woman she’d been before she’d met the Sidhe, she might’ve believed the Seelie queen.

“Let us welcome the storm season together,” Aisling said.

Niamh grinned and the great doors opened wide.

A storm of starlight descended silently as far as the eye could see.

Aisling stood atop a checkered, glass floor suspended far above Castle Yillen, still floating like a leaf in the wind. Transparent, Aisling could just see the earth far, far below, past a confection of clouds and mist and falling stars. The water from Niamh’s showers spilling over the edge of the floor in cascades of light.

Winged Sidhe danced through the sky, glittering ball gowns ballooning like buds blooming come spring. Ethereal, they moved with such grace, every step rhythmically aligned with the orchestra of wild beasts playing harps, fiddles, lutes, and beating drums. The music rapturous.

And if there were a single guest more, Aisling worried there wouldn’t be room for the tables that stretched endlessly at the center ofL? Brear, overflowing with steaming rolls, chocolate puddings, plum candies, sweet moon cakes, hot wines, and apple roasted pigs among much, much more, gloriously displayed beneath chandeliers of pulsing lightning.

Aisling couldn’t help but smile. Couldn’t wait to take off dancing. To sip wine until her feet were numb and she could twirl endlessly until morning. But the moment Aisling and Niamh emerged from the doors atop a platform that split into twin staircases, the celebration stopped. Even the droplets of liquid starlight froze mid-descent, streaks of light illuminating the Sidhe’s glorious faces as they beheld the two Seelie queens.

Aisling’s stomach flipped. A sea of faces devoured the sight of her, yet she recognized not one. The sorceress was reminded she was alone in this unknown realm.

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