Page 63 of The Forever Queen

Aisling tensed against the fae king’s grasp. The hairs on her body stood to attention, her skin crawling with the sensation of him pressed against her. Anduril growled at her hips, still weak from the grin but protesting, nonetheless.

“Flasing,” Lir said, the sting of the name echoing between the narrow corridors of the mountains. “At the western edge of the Other, there sleeps the eldest sons of the Forge.”

“The mountains themselves,” Aisling conjectured. Lir looked down at Aisling, but the sorceress swiftly shifted her gaze away. Herdraiochtwas flaring, brightening, pulsing despite the grin’s infection that’d left her spirit bloody and bruised. Anduril’s temper rising the longer they remained so close.

“I can walk,” Aisling said, pulling against the fae king’s grip. Gently, Lir released her, setting her softly on the ground. Regardless, Aisling’s knees wobbled—nothing but Anduril’s strength to keep her propped up on quivering ankles.

“If you’d prefer Geld to carry you—” Lir began.

“I’m alright,” Aisling protested, doing her best to stand straight. Her efforts weren’t convincing, for the fae king’s expression bent with concerned—annoyance, Anduril corrected.

You’ll slow him down and he knows it, Anduril grumbled in her mind.

I’ve made it thus far, Aisling argued with Anduril—herself? She wasn’t certain anymore.

You’re no match for the Other. Without me, you’d be dead, Anduril insisted, burning more hotly.

Aisling shook her head, tangling her fingers in her hair to seize the ache in her temples.

“You need rest,” Lir said.

“No,” Aisling insisted. The sorceress took a step forward, swaying side to side before balancing herself once more. “But perhaps,” she surrendered, “some form of nourishment. Do any of Cara’s supplies include Leshy’s tears?”

Lir’s eyes flicked to Geld before lowering to the ground. There was scarcely anything left, much less an elixir as potent as Leshy’s tears.

“We’ll rest for the evening here, and by morning, if you’re not well, we return to Castle Yillen,” Lir said.

“That’s not possible,” Aisling bit through bared teeth. “My father is coming, and the mortals are bleeding through the veil.”

“Then he will come and the veil will bleed.”

“At what cost?!” Aisling said, her voice rising. Immediately, the exertion shot through her ribs, forcing Aisling to double over. Lir flinched, his body jolting slightly before catching itself.

“If you aren’t well when morning arrives,” Lir said, his voice low, vibrating through the stones beneath their boots and into the surrounding mountains, “then we return to Castle Yillen. As high king of the Sidhe, I command it.”

Aisling felt her anger crawling up her body and crouching inside her chest like a hissing ghoul. Wisdom urged her to bite it down. To leash it by the snapping shut of her fangs. Anduril, however, goaded her anger further.

He wants the Goblet for himself, Anduril said.He couldn’t fathom allowing you, his blood sworn enemy, to wield so much power. Can you imagine?

Aisling’s skin heated.

“You are my knight and I your queen,” Aisling said, standing as tall as she was capable. Still, she was forced to tilt her head entirely back to meet his eyes. “I command you.”

Lir’s eyes flashed a violent shade of green. His lids lowered while a muscle flashed across the sharp edge of his jaw. He stepped closer, their bodies but a breath’s width apart. Above, thunder groaned, summoning webs of lightning. Flasing’sdraiocht, waking to the rhythm of Aisling and Lir’s combined power. Sparks of energy flaring from their fingertips, between their teeth and their tear ducts.

The fae king opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, a wild horn blew. Hollow, it whistled through Flasing’s passages and into Aisling and Lir like a ghost eager to possess. Aisling and Lir fell apart, their attention stolen by the growing wind and the echo of the horn.

“We need to keep moving,” Lir said, a sense of urgency in his voice.

“What is it?” Aisling asked.

“Anything. Nothing,” Lir said. “But I’d prefer not to find out.” The fae king turned on his heel, starting toward Geld waiting patiently to the side.

“Wait,” Aisling said. “What if it’s Eogi?”

Lir paused, hesitating as he wrapped Geld’s reigns around his wrist.

“I don’t think—” but before the fae king could finish the sentiment, Flasing shifted, rolling over like a den of bears waking midwinter.

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