Page 91 of The Forever Queen

Aisling didn’t blink, blood-shot eyes glossing over with tears.

“Daughter,” Clodagh said, this time a little more confidently. “I hope you don’t mind, I wished to see you dressed in Tilrish garments one last time.” Clodagh gestured at Aisling’s woolen dress. “I wanted you to be buried this way as well. This is how you’ll be remembered, daughter.”

Aisling couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t move until Clodagh took a step toward her.

Aisling shuffled backward awkwardly, hissing beneath her iron mask. The chains clanked as she moved, pressing herself against the walls.

The phantom sword at her throat moved as she did, its tip never leaving her throat.

“Resist no further, daughter. The end is nigh,” Clodagh said.

Aisling’s insides exploded with fire, scalding her from the inside out. Smoke spilled from her ears and her tear ducts, clouding the room with her rage.

Clodagh gasped, shuffling backward. She met Aisling’s eyes for only a moment, and what she saw, Aisling knew not. Only that her mother gave a foul scream, and scratched at the door in panic to flee as quickly as possible.

Two men burst into the room. The first quickly grabbed Clodagh while the second immediately focused on Aisling.

Starn and Annind. Two of Aisling’s brothers.

Their dark, hawk-like eyes drank in the sight of their sister. But there was something else there now. A strange, dark fire brewing in their eyes and seeping from their lips like adragún. This was the same unnatural magic Aisling had seen atImbolc.

As if prompted, the phantom blade at her throat pushed against her flesh, summoning a stream of blood that trickled down the sorceress’s throat.

“What have you done to mother?!” Starn asked Aisling, his expression warped with a combination of both fury and fear.

Aisling jerked at the chains, pulling them till the nails in the walls groaned.

“Enough!” Starn yelled, the bridge of his nose as red as his ears. His eyes flared red—that unnatural magic glowing angrily. The phantom sword pressed harder. Aisling whimpered, closing her eyes the minute the blade punctured her flesh and wrenched a muffled cry from her blistered lips. And still, Starn did not relent. He continued toying with her, exploring how far he could push the blade until she died of either pain or gargling on her own blood.

“Is this how you treat your sister after so long?” another voice piped from the entryway. Aisling hadn’t heard them enter, but the moment she opened her eyes, she wished she never had.

Nemed, Fergus, and Iarbonel stood at the door, watching Aisling beneath hooded, empty eyes: her father and two other brothers. Their eyes shone cruelly, possessed by new spells that smelled of the Lady.

“It’s not my sister,” Starn spat, releasing the floating blade from his command. “It is a beast that’s crawled inside my sister’s skin and laid waste to mortal fleets. Innocent lives, gone at the cost of her ravenous, spoilt temper.”

“Patience. You’ll have your opportunity soon enough, Starn.” Nemed smiled, the horizontal scar across his face made more gruesome by the dancing shadows cast by the torchlight. He appeared much older than the day Aisling had last seen him. Like a stone, weathered and worn by the unforgiving winds of time. It was a satisfying sight to behold from the perspective of Aisling’s newfound immortality.

“Unlock her muzzle,” Nemed ordered. “I wish to hear her voice.”

Aisling’s clann exchanged glances. Her family. Her kin. Her blood…Aisling stopped her thoughts short. The sorceress’s heart still pumped with both the blood of man and fae alike. Yet, no longer was the last remnants of human blood in her veins her clann’s to claim. It was her own. These humans before her were not the same that’d raised and been raised alongside her. Everything had changed. Aisling was indeed the beast her brother described.

Starn cursed beneath his breath, but never would Nemed’s eldest son disobey his father’s commands. Cautiously, Starn approached Aisling and unclipped the mask. The iron contraption fell to the rocking floorboards, clattering as Aisling gasped for air.

“Release me or I will slaughter everyone aboard this galleon,” Aisling threatened, her voice laced with the lilt of Sidhe accents and wild, feral magic. A ripple of herdraiochtpushed through the chamber and beyond, sending shivers down each of their spines.

“Your threats are empty,” Annind said. “You’ll drown alongside us if you cast your magic while still shackled to our ship.”

Aisling laughed. “Your knowledge of the fae is unsurprisingly lacking, brother. I’d remain chained to this ship for an eternity if it meant watching your ashes become lost to oblivion. For while I cannot withstand your iron shackles, nor breathe beneath the waves forever, my magic is sufficient to, at the very least, watch you die.”

Clodagh broke down weeping, trembling in Annind’s arms.

“So eager for the end,” Nemed said, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Where has your ambition gone?”

“Like an arrow to its target,” Aisling bit, more the image of a chained wolf than ever before.

Clodagh’s eyes caught onto Aisling’s fangs, sending her squealing like a piglet in fear.

“Calm down, daughter,” Nemed said, accentuating the word “daughter” to further provoke her. “You won’t need to claw for your life just yet. You’ll help us first.”

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