Page 56 of The Red Woman and the White Bear

“Ash?” Rodney was already standing before one of the oak shelves, so laden with books it sagged in the center. He pulled out the first one within reach and thumbed through it. “What are we looking for, exactly?”

She wandered over to stand with her back against his to examine the opposite row of tomes. She peered closely at the titles, pleased to find more written in English than she’d expected. “I’ll know it when I see it.”

He snorted. “That doesn’t help me.”

Aisling glanced back toward the doorway to ensure that the sidhe no longer lingered there before she said, ”A way out.”

“What?” Rodney looked at her, eyes wide.

“A way out, a different interpretation—something.” Aisling raked her hair back into a rough bun and crouched down to read the titles on a lower shelf.

“Aisling, what are you talking about?” When she didn’t answer right away, Rodney grabbed her elbow and pulled her up to face him, then said her name again sternly.

“It isn’t right, Rodney. I understand not wanting the Unseelie Court to take full control, but this?Laure?” She hadn’t realized the strength of her conviction until she spoke the words out loud, but she’d felt the truth of them. They’d been a noisy refrain in her mind from the moment Laure had dismissed the magicked singer as harmless fun. When the banquet she’d planned in their honor was lit by candles anchored to human bodies, she knew for sure.

Laure, as Queen, was aware and tolerant of everything that went on in her court. She would know about the changeling children. She would have known about Maeve Morrow—maybe not by name, but Aisling wasn’t entirely sure if that was better or worse. She shook her head and repeated, “It isn’t right.”

Rodney’s frown softened just slightly. “It’s the prophecy.”

“Is it?” she challenged. “Because I don’t recall it explicitly calling out either court by name. Even Laure said herself that Fae prophecies aren’t rigid.”

“Maybe, but Ash…” Rodney trailed off to rub the back of his neck, looking around once more to ensure their privacy.

“You saw the scene on the lawn this morning; do you really want the whole realm to look like that? What do you think happens to humans if that becomes normal? What if they stop waiting for them to cross the Veil on their own?” There were worse beings in the Wild than Laure’s courtiers, and she didn’t doubt that the only thing holding them back from indulging their impulses was an outmodedsense of consequence. If the sort of treatment that was acceptable in the Seelie Court became normalized across the realm, including in those darkest corners, that small bit of protection would be eradicated.

“But an Unseelie rule—” Rodney began in protest, but Aisling cut him off.

“Isn’t the answer either; I’m not saying that it is. I’m saying that there’s got to be another option.”

He thought for a moment, studying Aisling’s face. The corner of his lips quirked up as he began to appreciate the challenge. “Door number three.”

“Exactly.” Aisling grinned, then sighed and looked around the space once more. “We just need to find it.”

By the time the sidhe returned to retrieve them, Rodney and Aisling had combed through only half of the shelves in the space. Rodney’s understanding of the Fae language was useful, but rudimentary and slow as he puzzled over words he couldn’t recall. Aisling paged through most of the books in English, and some of those written in obscure languages that neither of them recognized. In those, she focused on the illustrations.

“I’m sorry for the mess,” Aisling said to the sidhe when she pulled open the door, interrupting Rodney as he was sounding out yet another complex sentence. Heavy books and scrolls were piled high on the table in the center of the room.

“That’s quite alright,” she intoned. “Have you found what you werelooking for?”

Aisling picked her bag up off the floor and slung a strap over her shoulder. “Would it be possible for us to come back tomorrow?” She ignored Rodney’s dramatic huff.

“Certainly; I’d be happy to have you back.” The sidhe locked the door the same way she’d opened it: palms pressed flat, and a low whisper against the wood. Aisling knew to face away from the ensuing glow this time.

“Welcome back.” Tadhg was waiting near the palace steps, casually leaning a shoulder against one of the manticore statues guarding the door. The stable hob was hovering nearby and scuttled forward to take the reins and guide the horses away once Aisling and Rodney dismounted. Both of them winced at the soreness that flared in their legs when their feet hit the ground. “Did you enjoy your visit to the archives?”

“We did, thanks. I believe we’ll be returning tomorrow.” Aisling put a hand on Rodney’s shoulder for balance and rolled her stiff ankles.

“Books exist to be read,” Tadhg said with a smile. He pushed himself off of the statue and met the pair on the lawn. His hair shone the color of autumn leaves in the low afternoon sun; he’d tied it back with a green ribbon at the nape of his neck.

“Do you know where I might find Laure? She asked to speak when I got back.” Aisling glanced around, thankful that the morning’s party had moved on in their absence.

“Laure unfortunately has other matters to attend to; she sent me in her stead to entertain you for the evening.” Tadhg bowed deeply at the waist and his eyes sparkled good-naturedly. Despite how desperate she’d been for Laure’s acceptance when they’d arrived, Tadhg had since become the only member of the Seelie Court Aisling felt remotely comfortable around.

“I’m not sure we need entertaining,” Rodney hedged.

When Tadhg smirked, he looked like a sheepish child. “Really, it’s purely selfish on my part. I’d quite like to paint your portrait, Aisling. You with the White Bear.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. I’m not good at sitting still.” Aisling felt her cheeks heat as the artist studied her like he was already composing the piece in his mind.

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