Page 68 of The Forever Queen

“An elusive word, slipping between the letters of the Lore like a wisp—growing more potent, more real, betraying its ghostly body.” Helm looked Aisling up and down, his dark eyes flashing dangerously. “You’re more beautiful than the stories describe,” he said, eyes darting across her face.

Aisling denied herself the luxury of blushing, swallowing whatever flattery his comment held.

“So, the tales remark me less than?” Aisling asked.

“You misinterpret me, enchantress,” he said. “There are scarcely words that could capture your essence. Which is why I’d be honored if you’d join me for a dance?” Helm’s eyes glittered with promise.

Aisling crossed her arms, acknowledging his outstretched hand with a brief flick of her eyes.

“Try then,” Aisling challenged.

“I’m sorry?—”

“Attempt to describe my beauty, and if your efforts please me,” Aisling offered, “then I’ll allow you a dance.” She arched a brow. She hadn’t meant the challenge seriously but only as a mockery. Even so, if he agreed to her terms, she’d at least be amused. For his empty flattery had done all but describe the beauty he claimed to understand uniquely. In fact, Aisling realized, he’d already lost the challenge.

Helm laughed nervously beneath his breath, eyes darting across Aisling’s face.

“Your beauty surpasses description, enchantress,” Helm said at last. He smiled to himself, chin tipping upward with transparent self-satisfaction.

“And yet,” Aisling countered, “I request one.”

Helm hesitated. “I?—”

“Be your beauty a blade, let it carve me—violent, cruel, and without mercy,” someone piped, approaching their conversation from the side. Aisling didn’t need to turn to see who came forward. She and Anduril would both recognize his voice in the darkest shadow, brightest light, and all the glimmers between.

Aisling and Helm whipped their attention to Lir, his posture cool and arrogant even as he held Helm’s glare.

See?Anduril said.He watches, he does not trust us. He mocks us with his arrogance.

“I had a suspicion we might cross paths.” Helm addressed Lir, his smile quickly fading.

“You’re meant to be guarding your court in the mortal plane.” Lir crossed his arms.

But where Aisling anticipated a sharp rebuttal, Helm’s expression dimmed with something like shame.

“Tahsman was taken,” Helm said. “The mortals surrounded us, their iron hot and their fires hungry. The flames moved quickly—too quickly––spreading over Tahsman until we were forced to seek refuge in the Other.”

Lir’s jaw flexed.

“Taken,” he repeated, absorbing the information.

“We had no other choice,” Helm continued.

“And the others?” Lir asked, straightening. “Have the other courts been taken as well?”

Helm shook his head. “Communication has been cut from all courts on the mortal plane. But I assume Tahsman was not the first to fall to the fire hand nor will it be the last. I’m only grateful we escaped in time to spare as many as possible.”

Lir cursed beneath his breath.

“Where are the rest of your people?” Lir continued.

“Scattered across the Other and finding shelter where possible. I’ve been traveling across this plane for the past several days, seeking safe havens for Tahsman and the others that will inevitably follow,” Helm said.

Lir’s expression flickered with…fear, Aisling realized. It was foreign on his face, catching Aisling off guard.

“And Annwyn?” Lir asked, soft eyes gilded by the lantern light.

Helm exhaled. “No word. But if none from your court have yet to appear here in the Other, there’s still hope.”

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