Page 58 of The Forever Queen

“If there are any supplies you can spare us for the journey, we’ll repay you tenfold upon our return.”

The fox hopped off his seat, dropping the frog and spreading his arms.

“Of course, of course,mo Lúra,” the fox said.

He blazed through the cottage, collecting armfuls of leather flasks, herbs, dried meats, breads, pelts, ropes, and more until neither Aisling nor Lir could see his face for the mountain of loot in his arms. The fox organized the supplies and divided them into sacks that would latch onto Geld’s saddle as they rode. At the end of the hour, Geld was decorated in the fox’s collection. The fox had even tied garlands of four-leaf clovers around the stag’s antlers for good fortune on their journey.

Aisling and Lir bowed to the fox.

“Thank you,” Aisling said, taking the fox’s paw between her two hands. The fox dipped his head nobly in return, beady eyes glistening with unwept tears.

But as Aisling and Lir approached the cottage’s threshold to leave, the fae king hesitated at the exit.

“Go on ahead,” he said, tipping his head in Geld’s direction. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

Anduril buzzed hotly, but this time, Aisling’s curiosity masked the belt’s protests. She watched closely as Lir sank back into the heat of the cottage and began whispering with the fox in Rún. She couldn’t understand nor hear his voice properly over the screams of the storm, but she inclined her head toward them regardless.

The fox watched the fae king speak with familiar intensity. Of what they spoke, Aisling was still uncertain, but she was determined to find out eventually.

The sorceress, at last, turned and slipped into the rain.

CHAPTER XXV

LIR

“Is there no way to remove it?” Lir asked the fox.

Cara’s expression pinched, his paws fiddling with the edge of his cloak.

“Only the wearer can remove the Blood Cord from their body. It must be of their will and no others.”

Lir cursed.

“How can it be by the will of the wearer if the Blood Cord transforms their will entirely?”

Cara frowned. “It is the nature of magic to take as much as it gives. This much, you already know,mo Damh Bán.”

Lir clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth together. Hisdraiochttossed with frustration, snapping and clawing for release. The forest felt it too—the trees whipping their heads to the rhythm of his anger.

Lir turned on his boot, bidding one last farewell to the fox. Aisling was waiting for him and Anduril’s keen eye would breed suspicion in her heart if he stalled too long. He felt the battle the belt waged in Aisling’s mind. How it twisted his words, his image, and her memories till Aisling couldn’t recognize truth from deceit. It was enough to drive Lir mad by the mere influence of its proximity.

The Sidhe king stepped into the rain and lifted Aisling onto Geld’s saddle. She obliged, sitting straight-backed before him so as not to touch him more than was necessary. The lavender of her perfume and soaps mercilessly wafted and overwhelmed his senses. If he could, he’d rip Anduril from her body and crush its metal to dust. If he could, he’d tip her chin up so her lips met his mouth. If he could, he’d remove every plate of armor, every bit of chainmail, every strip of leather, and memorize her. If he could, he’d listen to her speak till the sun rose. He’d watch her cast petty spells in silence. He’d be close to her. If he could, he’d love her.

But he couldn’t.

Lir, Aisling, and Geld trekked through the forests of the Other, its cliffsides, and its mountain ranges, making quick work of the path they’d intended to travel. Lir trusted the trees when he bore no other option but mostly referenced Fiacha’s stars to guide him. They pointed northward, through the misty planes of what the yews called Kaster: a vast and sparkling meadow, wealthy with cornflowers,Imbolclilies, and bulbs of greenmary. The walnut trees that punctuated these fields slept peacefully, snoring alongside the creatures that hid in its knots and bends—a faith-filled sign Kaster was a safe enough place to rest for the night.

“Ellwyn,” Lir whispered to Aisling. She hadn’t spoken in several hours, sitting silently before him as they rode. “Ellwyn,” Lir repeated when she didn’t answer.

The Sidhe king shifted, peering over Aisling’s shoulder and at her face. Her eyes, gently shut, twitched with dreams. He’d wondered why her breath had grown deep and steady, but he hadn’t believed she’d be capable of rest on Geld’s saddle. Riding was not for the faint of heart, but it appeared Anduril’s strength had proven useful in this one capacity.

As gently as he was capable, Lir lifted Aisling into his arms. She stirred and Lir held his breath, watching her lips pucker with conversation. The realm of dreams had ensorcelled her fully, immersing her in another world entirely. She convulsed softly, her body forgetting that only her spirit moved in its parallel realm.

The Sidhe king slipped off Geld, carrying Aisling beneath the arms and knees. Her head rolled back, so Lir adjusted her till her cheek pressed against his chest.

“Samsaral,” Lir said. Obedient, thedraiochtresponded, blooming a plush bed of mage’s moss. He set the sorceress down in the shadow of a walnut tree, crowning her head with violets as she settled into the emerald cushions he’d summoned.

Geld lowered to his knees and rocked himself to sleep as well. Midnight beetles and opal snails climbing up the stag’s pelt. They cleaned the beast’s furs of dirt and debris from their travels, polishing his hooves and antlers.

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