Page 73 of The Forever Queen

“Nothing,” Helm said, even as he leaned his head closer, his lips breathing against her forehead.

“You should go,” Aisling said, her words slurred and slow. Nevertheless, Helm reached below her chin and tipped her head up. Lazily, he studied her face, his thick, dark lashes half obscuring the sheen of his eyes. Yet, it wasn’t his eyes that unsettled Aisling most of all. It was his left hand, wandering toward her waist. He grazed her bodice, his fingers sliding down the curve of her abdomen until he was stopped short by Anduril’s hot chain.

“So this is the belt you speak of?” he asked, his fingers grazing Anduril’s edge.

“Aye,” Aisling said, her throat tight and her body stiff despite the wine that loosened her will. “Don’t touch it,” she managed. “Or me.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll light a fire in your belly that slowly consumes you from the inside out,” Aisling threatened between bared teeth.

“Perhaps I’ll call your bluff,” Helm said just before yanking Anduril’s clasp so hard, it jerked Aisling upright. Without hesitation, Aisling’s body lit with violet flame. It hardly mattered. Helm flew backward, slamming into the side of Dorkoth’s tavern with a horrible crunch.

Aisling shook her head, desperately trying to make sense of the past several breaths. Helm groaned, slouched on the ground and rubbing his head.

“She said not to touch,” Lir’s voice materialized before them both—he, a shadow peeling forth from the darkest corners of the corridor. The fae king reached down and grabbed Helm by the throat, lifting him till his feet dangled above the ground.

“Enough, Lir,” Helm wheezed, gasping for breath.

“It’s enough when I say it is,” Lir replied. “Now answer a few questions for me.” Lir squeezed Helm’s throat more tightly, his knuckles turning white.

“I didn’t mean any harm,” Helm choked out, his hands clawing at Lir’s forearms, but it was fruitless—Lir was stronger by far, easily holding him in place.

“Yet,” Lir said between clenched teeth, “you tried to remove Aisling’s belt. Why?”

Helm squirmed, his complexion reddening, then purpling.

“Anduril is a cursed object,” Helm said. “It begins like a seed in the mind, but if it isn’t stopped, its roots will slither between the grooves of her mind until she cannot separate the belt from herself. Power comes at a cost.”

Lir’s eyes narrowed, but he held still.

“You know its name?” Aisling said, speaking for the first time since Lir arrived.

“Aye,” Helm managed. “My mother witnessed the madness that belt inspires firsthand. Nothing good will come of it. Surely not the salvation of the Sidhe.”

“And yet,” Aisling said, “that’s why I wear it. To defeat all and everything that stands before me and victory.”

“What about him?” Helm asked, his eyes shooting to Lir.

“He’s my knight and sworn to serve me,” Aisling said, but Helm’s eyes fell to Anduril buzzing softly at her hips.

“Now I say it’s enough,” Lir said. The fae king dropped Helm suddenly and turned to move closer to Aisling’s side. Helm floundered on the floor for a moment, recovering himself and backing down the corridor.

“Leave now,” Lir continued. “And don’t let me catch sight of you again.”

Helm ground his jaw but said nothing, spinning on his heel the moment he’d reached the end of the hall and took off.

Aisling sucked in a breath, herdraiochtfizzling into wisps of smoke as her heart rate calmed and her mind cleared.

“Are you alright?” Lir asked.

“I’m fine,” Aisling said, straightening her gown and her hair. Lir nodded his head, glancing over his shoulder at the hall Helm had run down.

“You should rest,” he said. “When the sun rises, we’ll continue to Eogi.” Lir bowed his head, already preparing to retreat to wherever he planned to rest for the night. He hardly met her eyes. His expression void of emotion as he started down the corridor, his back to her as he took his leave.

“Lir,” Aisling said, his name falling from her lips before she could stop it. “Wait.”

Anduril flared but Aisling shoved away the pain, focusing her blurry eyes on the fae king and sinking into their depths.

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