Page 46 of The Forever Queen

The Other released the breath it’d been holding, and the tension burst like a cloud before the squall.

Niamh, straight-backed and lips pursed, broke into sudden laughter. Ear-splitting, the sound broke the champagne flutes and chalices circling the punch fountain. The badgers and tortoises enjoying their drinks, leaped in surprise, staggering away from the broken glass.

“Then you aren’t welcome here,” Niamh said. “Return to Annwyn before the mortals invade your borders once more.”

Lir’s temper rose, but he stifled it quickly. He needed an excuse to stay in the Other. A reason—anobligation––to protect Aisling that even Niamh couldn’t argue with. He needed an excuse to stay by Aisling’s side.

“Even so,” Lir continued, “I’ve come as an ally to the Lady Aisling.” The Sidhe king found Aisling’s eyes across the room and held them. Anduril’s cruel sheen glossed her expression, shielding the sorceress behind its magic, but the Sidhe king continued nonetheless, speaking to Aisling and Aisling alone.

The Sidhe king cut a path through the crowd. A wolf, he lithely took his place before the dais and knelt on the ground.

Lir bowed his head. Slowly, he unsheathed one of his twin axes and crossed it before his heart.

“I swear my fealty and my blade to the sorceress,” Lir said. The Sidhe king raised his head, fixing his eyes on Aisling. She sat still—a dark lake hidden by the forest. Lir held her stare regardless. At last, a spark of recognition flaring across her expression before returning to stone. “She will need a knight and a protector if she’s to spare the Sidhe. I can think of no better option than myself.”

“And what authority do either you or Aisling boast that’s capable of liberating the Sidhe from impending doom?” Niamh asked Lir, dabbing at her amused, tear-filled eyes with the edge of her sleeve.

Lir held his ground.

“I understand Aisling was introduced to the Sidhe as my bride, the mortal princess, the daughter of the fire hand; the bane of the Sidhe with a legacy of fae blood packed between the mortar of his iron keep,” Lir said. “I understand that her proclivity to thedraiochtis strange and unprecedented, and that the nature of her fire is darkly poetic in its relationship to the Sidhe. I understand Aisling was introduced as the enemy. As a casualty.” The room stilled. “But that is not the sorceress that stands before you.”

The hairs on the nape of Lir’s neck stood on end. The universe leaning closer to better hear his spell.

“Ina chose Aisling as a hiding place, a home to shelter her gods-blessed gift. She is the keeper of Racat and the personification of magic. And as both sorceress and the reaper of men, Aisling wields the power to ensure Sidhe victory and to unwrite prophecy. Her only request from those she intends to fight for…” Lir said ––The whole ofL? Brearwaiting on his every breath––“Is a chance to earn the gods’ favor and obtain the Goblet of Lore. Of this she will agree.”

Like an oak felled, Lir’s words hit the earth with a thunderous crash, the Sidhe flaring into hysteria like birds taking flight.

Aisling’s expression flashed with a flurry of emotion, her breath hissing between her teeth, the angrier Anduril shimmered. And still, her eyes stayed locked on Lir, studying him closely.

It was chaos.

Madness and confusion spreading and rising into the clouds above.

Niamh’s crystal eyes stared deeply at Aisling, flecked with—what looked like—betrayal.

Aisling exchanged glances with the Seelie queen of Rain, a silent conversation passing between them that Lir couldn’t decipher.

“Enough,” Niamh said at last, silencing the crowds.

“This is lunacy!” a fox yelled. “A mortal and the enemy’s daughter endeavoring to win the gods’ favor?!” The beast snorted in disbelief, shaking her head.

“It is the Forge’s will,” a Sidhe knight argued.

“Impossible!” another said between clenched teeth.

“Since when have the Sidhe been averse to change?” a bear asked with sincerity, the toads beside him nodding their heads in agreement.

“The not-so mortal queen has never asked for the Goblet nor the gods’ favor,” another Sidhe said.

Lir’s throat grew thick. In the wake ofImbolc, in the angst over Aisling, in his focus on their journey from the mortal plane to the Other, and in his desperation to find Aisling, he’d forgotten about this drawback to their schemes.

“Let her search for the Goblet then,” a winged Sidhe said, his crown of fruit wobbling atop his ebony curls. The majority of the crowd nodded their heads in agreement.

Aisling whipped her attention to their audience, but her gaze was inward, churning with thought.

“To pursue and find the Goblet for the gods’ favor…” The fox shook her lovely head, concern pinching her brows. “Such a task is a death sentence.”

“She’s no longer mortal,” Lir said, his voice more biting than he’d intended.

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