Page 9 of The Forever Queen

Yet, Lir leaned fully back in his throne and did as Aisling commanded.

The dark lord of the greenwood need not move to weave magic. Lir was powerful beyond measure and with Aisling beside him, hisdraiochtwas boundless. It was rather the smell of the forest after a heavy rain, the humidity, the pressure of hisdraiochtpopping their ears that presaged the shriveling of the thorny shackles around Fionn’s wrists and Frigg’s muzzle. The sinew of each vine collapsed to the floor and eventually vanished.

Freed, Fionn nodded his head, bowing to Aisling in gratitude. His silver hair, sparkling as the braided strands fell over his shoulders. Fionn was somehow more beautiful and more resplendent with hisdraiochtreturned.

Lir, however, dug his fangs into his bottom lip, poison gorse tangling itself around the stem of his goblet.

“Let us begin,” Aisling said. She stood from her throne, the satin of her gown spilling down the dais as she moved. Slowly, she descended, until she stood across from the son of Winter at the center of the hall.

The room held its breath, the knights dropped their forks and spoons, newly freed hands settling on the hafts of their weapons. Peitho and Gilrel stiffened themselves, dedicating their full attention to both Fionn and Aisling.

Fionn inhaled and snowflakes flurried in the wind of his breath.

“Have you dueled a Sidhe before?” Fionn asked.

“No,” Aisling admitted.

“Well then.” Fionn smiled. “First, you bow to your opponent. Once you do, you’ve accepted the duel and cannot forgo the challenge.” Elegantly, Fionn bent at the hips, lowering his head as all subjects of Annwyn and elsewhere were required to do in Aisling’s presence. Thedraiochtpopped and crackled in the air, waiting for Aisling’s response to seal the duel.

Aisling mirrored the movement, never once releasing Fionn from her sight.

“And now?” Aisling asked.

“Now, we gather our weapons,” Fionn said.

A jolt of excitement shot up Aisling’s spine. She tasted the plum-sweet flavor of her magic on her tongue and the burning potential it fanned inside her, coaxed hotter by Lir’s proximity. And, without vocation, herdraiochtflared like twin comets on both of her fists.

“Ah ah ah,” Fionn said, smiling like a fox. “This is a sword duel. Weapon to weapon. Blade to blade. Nodraiocht.”

Lir audibly shifted behind Aisling.

“You overestimate our patience for your foolery, son of Winter,” Galad spoke immediately.

“The queen of Annwyn has already bowed,” Fionn said.

“Because of your deceit,” Gilrel piped.

“It’s alright,” Aisling said, her voice a contrast to the slick tip of Gilrel’s and Galad’s angry tongues. “Let me duel him by blade.”

Aisling dared not glance over her shoulder at Lir, but she felt his anger. Saw his fury climbing up the edges of the hall in thick, sticky thorns and dense weeds.

Gilrel and Peitho exchanged glances, speaking without saying a word. At last, Gilrel grumbled a string of curses beneath her breath and accepted Sarwen from Peitho’s keeping: Aisling’s blade.

Aisling kneeled to accept the blade from her handmaid. Fionn watched her closely as she familiarized herself with its weight and balance. Aisling wasn’t entirely sure how to ready herself for a duel of swords, but she’d seen enough to know a knight always tested their blade before the first strike.

Sarwen hummed softly between her fingers, equally measuring Aisling.

“You’re in luck,” Fionn said. “YourFaerakfriend stole my beloved blade and so, I’ll need a replacement.” Without hesitation, Frigg leaped onto the dining tables and wrapped his fangs around Tyr’s blade resting beside his plate.

“You filthy—” Tyr growled, almost staking Frigg’s tail to the table with his dinner knife. The wolf carried the double-edged longsword to his master, proudly placing it in Fionn’s palms.

“Now we may begin,” Fionn said, spinning Tyr’s sword as if he’d known it all his life. The Sidhe knight stood from his seat at the table, crossing his arms as he pleaded silently with the fae king to intervene. Aisling, however, prayed hercaerawould not. If she was to prove herself as rightful queen of Annwyn, Lir couldn’t undermine her strength nor her courage.

“First to render the other prone wins,” Fionn explained.

Aisling swallowed.

“Begin,” she commanded the son of Winter.

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