Page 77 of The Forever Queen

“Is it as simple as entering?” Aisling asked Lir, staring past her knight and into the dark mouth of the cave beyond.

“Only one way to find out.” Lir stepped forward, boot by boot nearing the edge of Breka’s mirror. Close enough that the spray of the falls soaked his trousers and the fish pushed past him to enter first. Lir moved further, the tip of his nose stopping just short of the waters.

“Lir,” Aisling warned, but it was too late.

The fae king flew backward, nimbly catching himself and landing in a crouch like a feline. Aisling and Lir stared at the waters, watching as something stepped forth.

It was invisible at first. The only indication it existed was its strength as it pushed Lir back, and the way the water parted so it could pass. The moonlight, however, revealed its secrets, unveiling the creature before their eyes.

A shining knight clad in forge-cast armor stood before them both. He carried a greatsword that almost matched his great height and build, reflecting the light of the moon spectating from above.

“Do you seek Eogi?” the knight asked. His voice was inhuman. Each word was stiff and unfamiliar, as though it were nothing more than a mimicry of Aisling’s common tongue.

“Aye,” Aisling replied, stepping forward. Lir’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing, his grip hardening on the hafts of his blades.

“It is I who seeks Eogi,” Aisling said.

The knight considered Aisling with the patience of immortality. He studied her gown, her tangled hair, and the gleam of Sarwen between her cold hands.

“On what authority do you wish to pass?” the knight asked.

“I seek the Goblet,” Aisling answered honestly.

“The Goblet of Lore,” the knight clarified, his eyes and expression hidden behind an ornate, detailed helmet.

“To rewrite prophecy and spare the Sidhe from mortal victory,” Aisling continued. Perhaps she wouldn’t need to battle the knight at all. After all, they were on the same side—all forge-born and made of the same magic the Other sipped from.

“The ink is already bleeding,” the knight said. “With every wound they inflict on the gateway, the veil thins, and the mortals bring disease, destruction, war, and famine to the spirit world, infecting eternity and the making of the universe. This is the end.”

Silence spread between them. Aisling swallowed, the knight’s words bouncing off the walls of Flasing’s cradle.

“Inflict pain on the gateway?” Aisling asked.

“Leshy.” The knight spoke matter-of-factly. “It flees their hunt, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. But not for long. The fire hand is nearing and fate cannot be stopped.”

Leshy.

The last moon of the storm season.

Aisling shook her head, suddenly understanding. Leshy was a gateway to the Other. A needle her father would violently thread if he could. Would destroy, root by root, if it meant obtaining everything he’d ever desired: triumph, power, Aisling…This is what they’d been ravaging the mortal plane searching for. What they’d been hunting. Leshy, their prey. Sidhe kingdoms conquered again and again as he neared his ends.

“Fate cannot be stopped,” Aisling agreed. “But it can change course.”

“Your arrogance will be your undoing,” the knight replied.

“Better my undoing than the world’s,” Aisling said. She spoke it without thinking, catching Lir’s attention as well. She wanted power between her teeth, yes, but perhaps she was starting to believe there was more.

“The choice is yours,” the knight said. He moved like moonlight reflecting off the shallow waves of a lake, readying himself to fight whoever wished to approach. Anduril lit excitedly, thirsty for Sarwen to drink their foe’s blood. He crouched, his blade poised in both hands.

Aisling exchanged glances with Lir. The fae king said nothing with his tongue but more with his eyes—bright green and flickering with fear. Not for himself. But for her.

You are his tool and nothing more. A weapon, a solution, but never could he care for your heart, Anduril reminded Aisling. Still, his expression weakened her knees and made Sarwen suddenly heavy in her palms.

At last, Lir nodded, a muscle flashing across his jaw.

Aisling swallowed, steeling herself.

“I choose to pass,” Aisling said and raised Sarwen before her.

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