Page 45 of The Forever Queen

“How wonderful of you to join us,” Niamh said. “Albeit so late and ill-dressed.” Her narrow eyes looked him up and down as though disgusted by his heathendom. Lir’s shade of violence, more barbaric than her own.

“I wouldn’t have missed it,” Lir said, unable to help the wolfish grin that swept across his face. “Although I’ll admit, my intentions, for once, are less focused on the wine and more so on the fate of our worlds.”

“How dramatic,” she simpered.

Lir laughed under his breath. “Aye, the end of the Sidhe’s existence would be. Which is why I’m here to prevent it.”

Gradually, Niamh’s arrogance faded with each of Lir’s words, her irritation rising. The surrounding Sidhe and forge-born beasts whipped their heads between the Seelie queen and Lir.

“You’d have me believe in your kingship if it wasn’t you who broke the Sidhe’s alliance with the mortals and caused this mess in the first place,” Niamh said, crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her chin up. The first transparent blow.

The crowd erupted into frenzied chatter, stirring like birds taking flight from a juniper.

Bemused, Lir walked further into the room, aware of the guests who staggered back in a panic, eager to clear his path.

“Do I sense compassion for the mortal race?” Lir asked, the corners of his lips curling further. “Or perhaps you’d rather place your trust in those who will make myths of us yet. It is by blood we will win this war. Not mercy.”

Every Sidhe and forge-born beast fell quiet, the potency of Lir’s words sobering the celebration, the reality of their approaching doom as tangible as the first leaf turned come autumn. Death’s approach, a surety.

Niamh’s complexion grew flushed and mottled, eyes widening until the whites were visible and her nails dug into the arms of her throne.

“You disguise your lust well,mo Damh Bán,” she bit, “for every choice you’ve made since the day you accepted an offering from the mortals has been with yourcaerain mind and not our people. Acaerawhose consummation with you will not only bring the mortals to their end, but the whole of the world as we know it.” Niamh beamed, but it was cold and void of emotion, eerie to behold. “Do not think that I, the gods’ favored child, does not know of the prophecies spun between the threads of fate. You,mo Damh Bán, are not the savior of the Sidhe. You are their unmaking.”

L? Brearfroze, panic bubbling in each and all’s expressions.L? Brear,Imbolc, any and all Sidhe celebrations were designed to inspire hope, community, and strength. And yet, war had rotted even this. Had diseased its way into even the fae folk’s frivolity, their savagery, their wonder.

“I do not stand with the Sidhe king of the greenwood,” a voice called from among the throng. The voice was distorted; a melding of two spirits into one. Nevertheless, Lir already knew who one half of the voice belonged to.

Aisling.

Lir’s heart leaped.

His flesh caught fire.

The words of vitriol he’d intended for Niamh caught in his throat. Eyes glazing over with hisneedto be close to her. An unholy flower, plucked from the earth by rain’s right hand. She was devastating to behold. Cloaked by spring’s showers, she shimmered beneath the light of Niamh’s flashing chandeliers. Eyes as violet as cauldron potions and lips as red as stolen hearts. Lir was paralyzed by her beauty. By the way she tilted her head like a beast of prey, considering him. By the way she swallowed her fear and armored herself with a resolve Lir had scarcely witnessed in battle-worn knights. And when she met his eyes, her magic was enough to bring the Sidhe king to his knees.

“Whilst our ambitions are aligned,” Aisling continued, “our coupling is no longer.” Anduril glistened smugly from Aisling’s hips, beaming brightly each time Niamh’s lightning webbed across the sky.

Lir bit the inside of his bottom lip, tasting blood.

At Aisling’s words,L? Brearreleased a collective gasp, voices rising until they were no longer whispers. Every Sidhe and forge-born beast among them shouting amongst one another, polarized by the news.

Lir, however, hardly heard them booming. Aisling stood at the center of his world, the rest a blur.

Anduril, Lir repeated to himself.It’s not real.

But the sight of Anduril clasping Aisling’s waist inspired something feral in Lir he didn’t know how to contain. Wasn’t even certain if he wanted to.

“And this,” Niamh concluded, tearing her eyes from Aisling’s to stare into Lir’s, “is why you are not welcome here.”

The attention of the room flew from Niamh to Lir like a dart. The Other held its breath. Thedraiochtthickening the air as history was being written. The threads of fate braiding, weaving, waiting on a confirmation from Lir to begin its work.

“Is this true?” Niamh asked Lir. “You’re no longer bonded to the sorceress?”

Lir clenched his hands into fists. Every muscle wrung taut.

Whatever you covet, Lir reminded himself again,will be my heart’s labor.

“It’s true,” the king of the greenwood said, avoiding Aisling’s eyes lest his anguish spill forth in violence. And still, he caught Anduril’s self-satisfied glint from the corner of his eye.

---