Page 51 of The Forever Queen

Niamh’s eyes glazed over with tears. She bit her bottom lip, hands balling into fists. The rains roared outside, cascading against the floating tower in which they stood. The vibration of herdraiochtthrumming beneath Lir’s boots.

Lir leveled his breath, shielding his thoughts. Studying Niamh’s every nuance to understand hers instead. Indeed, Lir had known of Niamh and Ina’s friendship at the dawn of creation, yet he hadn’t anticipated such despair, such mourning a millennium later as the Seelie queen displayed now. The depth of her emotion caught the Sidhe king off guard and gave him reason for pause. Niamh was hiding something.

“Aisling reminds me of your mother,” Niamh said. “Ina never spoke of her visions with me nor did she ever revealwhyshe chose Aisling to hide her gift and Racat. But I imagine she saw what we all see in her: the courage to dream greatly and the strength to seize it. Aisling may have been born a mortal princess, but long has her heart raced with the makings of legends.”

Lir ached for he didn’t need a reminder of all he loved but couldn’t have. The Sidhe king shifted, resisting the urge to clear his throat and expose the emotion Niamh had wrought from his spirit.

“So we agree.” Lir forced himself to speak past the lump in his throat. “Aisling will bring victory to the Forge, and my heart won’t break in vain if it is the Sidhe she spares in her destiny to rewrite prophecy. To force the hand of fate that might’ve once forced hers.”

“Aye,” Niamh agreed. “And yet, you are still afraid.”

Lir scoffed, his expression stretching into an amused grin.

“Afraid?”

“Ah yes, even the dark lord of the greenwood finds himself fearful,” Niamh replied with a smile in her voice. “Especially, of a sorceress.”

Lir’s heart stuttered, but he masked his feelings well, refusing to give Niamh the reaction she craved.

“You fear losing that which you love,” Niamh continued. “You’ve lost so much already…your first child, Narisea, your wings…Almost Aisling herself at one point in time…”

“Your point?” Lir asked, his patience thinning.

“Your fear of losing Aisling will prevent her success. You hold her too tightly, too close, too afraid of everything and everyone that you block her destiny from manifesting.”

Lir shook his head.

“I have done everything in my power to aid Aisling and her path.”

“This might be true,” Niamh said. “However, there is fear still to be released. The great Sidhe king of the forest has only ever allowed one other to reign supreme above even him: fear. And so, it is time to let go.”

Lir shifted, not stubborn enough to ignore the truth of her words. The Sidhe king feared the end of the Sidhe, the fall of Annwyn, the loss of Aisling—any and all heartbreaking loss he didn’t believe he bore the strength to survive. Still, he’d never confess such fears to Niamh.

“You must promise me this,” Niamh said, the words cold and bitter between them.

Lir straightened. Promise: a word that always yielded suffering. A word more binding than chains or dungeons.

“Promise me you’ll never love Aisling again. Promise me to heed the prophecies of your destructive coupling,” Niamh said, her voice strained and quick. “Promise me you’ll let Aisling go. And once your fear has been released, you’ll find a weight lifted from your back and your feet lighter.”

Lir staggered backward, his hand reaching toward his heart against his own volition. He shuddered, horrified by the venom spilling past her ancient lips and the screaming of the storm.

“Promise me and I’ll return to you—with what magic I boast—something you once lost,” Niamh said, standing.Something you once lost. “Promise me you’ll let her go and spare the Sidhe the violence your union would otherwise wreak.”

Lir’s heart pounded in his ears, his throat, his hands, thorns spiraling around the gallery, the arcade, the statues of winged Sidhe that glared down at him with such intensity he believed they’d come alive to pry the promise from his lips if he didn’t speak it willingly. And still, Lir would fight. Would rip his agency to love Aisling from the pits of the Forge if he must.

I want everything, Aisling’s words echoed in his mind.And I fear I’ll perish if such a hunger is never slaked. If my bones never grow. If everything I’ve ever wanted and never had—power, sovereignty, the world—is never mine.

Whatever you covet, Lir had said,will be my heart’s labor.

A promise.

A bargain his heart had sealed.

To break it, would be to break a vow. To break it would be to undermine Aisling. To break it would be to lose the gods’ favor and the Goblet. To lose the war against the mortals. To break it, would be to lose Aisling wholly.

Lir’s soul grew vast and dark. A cavern of sorrow that cannibalized itself, scratching at the walls of his body alongside his writhingdraiocht, begging to be unleashed.

“I promise,” Lir said, and the Forge boomed like a drum, snapping lightning and thunder in its fury, threatening to crack the skies in half. The Other and the mortal plane, both trembling with the finality of their high bargain.

---