Page 89 of The Forever Queen

“Peitho and I aren’t caera,” Lir replied.

“And yet, love smiles smugly at convention.”

Those words burned Lir more than he expected, forcing him to look away. A blow he hadn’t anticipated yet should have.

“I tire of your games, Niamh.”

“Very well,” the Seelie queen said. “What of your wings?”

Lir’s eyes flicked to Niamh. She smiled, indulging in Lir’s newfound interest and attention.

“What do you know of my wings?”

Niamh grinned, ear to ear; horribly unsettling and fearsome to behold. A twinkle of mischief dancing between her primordial eyes.

“I know what Danu took from you. The last vestiges of your mother, ripped from your back like a fruit fly.” Niamh tilted her head to the side and rain washed over Lir. The rain removed his tunic, his jacket, and loosened his belt, leaving him bare chested save for the axes tethered to his chest—axes that couldn’t be removed by spells or magic. Only Lir’s will bore the power to surrender them. But it wasn’t his blades Niamh hungrily devoured with her eyes. It was the brutal scars where his wings once bloomed.

Anger rose up Lir’s throat like weeds.

“Do you believe me so simple, so weak-minded as to fall for your tricks?” Lir bit.

“Everyone has a price.”

“And what is it you wish to buy, Niamh?” Lir asked, stepping closer to her until he towered over the Seelie queen and she was forced to look up at him. She gulped, throat bobbing.

“I want you to leave here. I want you to return to Annwyn and never look back. Leave Aisling and forget everything that would’ve once made you stay.”

Lir tipped his head back, still appraising the Seelie queen. She held firm, chin raised high almost convincing Lir she wasn’t afraid. Almost.

“Was my promise not enough?I expected more from the gods’ favored one,” Lir growled between his fangs. “Your mischief is clumsy and uninspired. Whatever your history was with my mother, it won’t be repeated with Aisling. And I’ll remain here in the Other, by Aisling’s side, to ensure it.”

Niamh’s eyes widened, as round as twin moons. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words left her lips.

“I don’t?—”

“Are we clear?” Lir asked, eyes a shade of ruthless green.

“As daybreak,” Niamh said at last.

CHAPTER XXXIII

AISLING

Traveling through water felt like being born. Or so Aisling imagined.

The sorceress rose from icy depths like a banshee clawing through a haunted wood, screaming with a tongue covered in saltwater tears. Yet, Aisling didn’t weep. She was surrounded by the savage churning of the Ashild sea, slapped by frothing, pearl tipped waves.

Aisling flailed, panicked, gulped mouthfuls of ocean water. Her head was swallowed by the waves time and time again. Already disoriented by the magic of such travel, the storm only worsened the conditions, spinning, dragging, whipping Aisling’s body to and fro like a fish it’d banished from its depths.

Aisling reached for the Goblet of Lore. Moments ago, it had been in her hands and now, it was gone. Her fingers searched for it to no avail. The artifact lost and gone from the sorceress.

“Aisling,” a familiar voice called from a distance. Was it a hallucination? A vision? The voice sounded different, cut off time and time again by the merciless thrashing of the sea.

“Aisling,” the voice continued, until something rough wrapped around Aisling’s body and pulled. It scratched her skin, rubbing against the wounds still healing from Eogi’s knight.

Aisling lit like a violet comet, an animal cornered and afraid, baring its teeth to preserve itself. Whatever had tangled itself around her body shriveled, releasing her to the will of the sea.

“Aisling,” the voice continued, but this time, it was followed by a splash. Four legs kicked her own, fighting to swim themselves. They reached for her, but her flames grew brighter. A misfortune for what came next stole Aisling’s breath from her lungs. Whoever surrounded her, tied her in chains of iron and dragged her writhing body through the storm.

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