Page 50 of The Forever Queen

“She’s still a valued member of my knight’s guild.”

“Aye, because your affections for her were never near what you shared with a mortal princess,” Niamh said, the corners of her lips curling.

Lir rolled his head back, his throat working. Speaking of another felt strangely intimate to Lir. Words were powerful spells and if spoken just right, carried weighted magic. So for an enemy—or at the very least, someone untrusted—to speak of Aisling, made Lir’s canines sharpen to a point.

“I fell in love with a mortal princess, traded to the fae,” Lir said.

“And you still love her?” Niamh asked.

Lir hesitated for a moment. He couldn’t lie, but he could twist his words.

“She is formidable,” he said instead.

“That isn’t an answer,” Niamh pushed, her gaze hardening.

Lir exhaled, annoyed. “I carry no apathy for her.”

“Answer my question,mo Damh Bán,” Niamh said, her voice like a chorus of many, shaking the stained glass.

Lir ran his fingers through his hair, disheveling it.

“I cannot love her,” he said.

“If love required permission, few among us would experience it,” Niamh said. “You love her.”

Lir crossed his arms, his heart pounding inside his chest.

“Aye.” He spoke the truth, the confession blooming primroses and bluebells around the arcade like piles of gold spilling onto the marbled floors.

Niamh laughed, tipping back her head. Her voice was as shrill as sleet.

Gasping for breath, she spoke: “Unfortunately, your love is unrequited.”

Lir remained stoic—his face expressionless as he endured Niamh’s blows. For while Anduril’s possession of Aisling enraged Lir, he was no fool, and even anger wouldn’t make him one. Niamh’s motives were ulterior to his own, this much was evident. And conceding even a morsel of emotion to the Seelie queen was to make oneself prone before the edge of a blade. Regardless, Lir wasn’t certain whether Niamh was aware of Anduril’s possession or if the Seelie queen believed Aisling’s change of heart to be in earnest. For now, it was a boon Niamh didn’t know: they couldn’t trust her and she seemed to align more closely with Anduril’s will than Aisling’s when it came to the Sidhe king. Either way, he’d unearth the truth through Niamh’s recklessness and not his own.

“I serve and honor the Lady Aisling as queen,” Lir said matter-of-factly. “Whether or not I remain a lover, is at the Lady Aisling’s discretion.”

Niamh smiled coyly, brushing a raindrop from the sharp cliff of her cheekbones.

“What devotion,” she cooed. “The legendary barbarian king of the greenwood leashed into such obedience for the likes of a sorceress.”

“For our salvation,” Lir corrected, but he’d made certain not to speak in a full sentence lest the Forge identify his lie for what it was. Lir had feared Aisling from the moment he’d laid eyes on her. Not on account of her hands, her iron, or even her magic. But on account of the spells she cast so effortlessly around his heart—enchantments prayed to life by her mettle when she’d dueled him, her elegance and posture whilst she’d stood before the supernatural court of the Other, and the steel of her voice when she’d laid her blade on both his shoulders.

“Does this not pain you? To see Aislinguseyou to obtain the world she wishes to rule?”

Lir licked his lips, patiently waiting for the correct response to come to mind. Every word exchanged with Niamh needed to be perfect. He couldn’t make a mistake. Not when everything—when Aisling—depended upon it.

“I’m no stranger to pain,” Lir said, his firstcaera, Narisea, and his late child sprouting inside his mind like poison gorta. “And as for Aisling’s ambitions, they align with my own. We both wish to see the supremacy of the Sidhe and the triumph of the Forge above all else.”

“You believe Aisling, once a mortal princess, to be capable of leading the Sidhe to victory?” Niamh asked. “Only a few years prior, these very words would’ve been curses on your tongue.”

“Just as the seasons change, so do our minds, our desires, our spirits. It’s the nature of growth, as you well know,” Lir said. “Regardless, I don’t need to believe it. Ina believed it. A fact you’re well aware of.”

Niamh stilled, fixing her pale eyes on the Sidhe king.

“How long I’ve waited to hear you speak your mother’s name.”

“I understand you were both close,” Lir said. “She mentioned you often, taking a vow of silence for your friendship during the storm seasons in Annwyn. I shared only a few memories with her before her passing, but those were amongst them.”

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