Page 28 of The Red Woman and the White Bear

Aisling sighed heavily and let the faerie guide her head down into the water. It was cold, nearly freezing, and she sucked in a sharp breath. Methild lifted Aisling’s soaking hair and reached down to tap the side of the bucket, and plumes of steam began to rise from the surface of the now-hot water. When Aisling looked up at her, she held one finger to her lips. A secret—likely, the hob wasn’t permitted to use her magic. At least, not in the service of a human prisoner. As Methild worked her pointed fingertips through Aisling’s tangles, the faerie hummed a melancholy tune in her raspy voice.

Once she was settled back in the bed, wrapped in fresh sheets and draped in a clean cotton shift, Aisling brought the ends of her wet hair to her nose. It smelled of the flowers that bloomed in the night garden, heady and sweet. When it dried, it was soft as silk.

She was still running her fingers through it absentmindedly when the door opened again. This time, Kael leaned against the doorframe. His casual posture made her uneasy—it didn’t match the intensity of his gaze or the furrow between his brows. Aisling shifted to sit up straighter against the headboard, everything in her begging to run as he studied her. But she couldn’t. She was acutely aware then of just how thin the slip was, the way its sheer fabric barely concealed her body underneath.

But Kael didn’t seem to notice. His eyes never left hers, even as Aisling’s swept over him, searching for any sign of those misty tendrils reaching out to her. She foundnone.

“Trying to convince my handservant to set you free, were you?” His voice was cold and dripping with ire. He crossed his arms over his broad chest while he waited for a response.

So it was the king that Methild served, after all. Tension rippled across Aisling’s shoulders unbidden. She hadn’t been; not at all. She’d simply hoped for some relief from the shackle’s weight on her wrist, which was by now raw beneath the metal. But his assumption reignited the defiance in her chest that had been slowly rebuilding with her strength.

“I don’t want to be chained like an animal,” Aisling shot back, her tone sharp.

Kael sneered. “I believe I preferred you when you were too weak to share your opinions.” He pushed himself off the doorway and stalked closer. Despite his obvious disdain, he reached for the wooden chair that Methild had pushed out of the way for Aisling’s bath. He dragged it to her bedside and lowered himself onto its edge. His closeness brought an overwhelming disarray of emotions to wash over her—fear, mostly. But curiosity, too. She avoided letting herself look at his hands, now folded in his lap, to spare herself the shameful reminder of the sparks they’d ignited when he’d traced them down her glamoured spine.

“I only meant for a few minutes, just while she washed my hair.” Aisling conceded finally. She worked two fingers under the cuff to rub her sore wrist.

“Was your mother Fae?” Kael asked abruptly after observing her silently for a moment.

Frowning, Aisling looked up at him and shook her head. “I’ve told you, I’m human.”

“You mentioned she’d told you about our kind.” He leaned back, settling into the chair. It was too small for his height.

Aisling nodded slowly, her hands twisting in the fabric of the blanket that covered her legs. “She used to tell me stories,” she began, a faint smile finding its way to her face as memories flooded back—memories which, most of the time, she kept carefully locked away. “About beings like you, places like this. Not quite like this, though. She made the Wild—Wyldraíocht—sound brighter. More beautiful.”

Kael’s eyebrow lifted, a nearly imperceptible shift in his expression to something like amusement. “Do you think my kingdom isn’t beautiful?”

“In its own way, I suppose,” Aisling admitted thoughtfully. “Like in the way that something sad can have a kind of beauty. But wherever it was that she visited was different. ‘Bathed in golden sunlight,’ she always said. I wanted to go there with her so badly.”

“She never took you?” His tone was softer now, the anger he’d started out with replaced by a hint of curiosity akin to Aisling’s own.

“She said Thin Places were too dangerous,” Aisling replied. Her words were heavy with longing and regret.

“She was right.” Kael’s lips twitched into a wistful half-smile, as if to sayshe told you so.

“Methild told me that you rarely see humans here. Do you think she ever came?” In spite of herself, there was the smallest ember of hope burning in herheart.

Kael thought for a moment before answering. “She was likely taken to the Seelie Court. They are far more…eager to host human visitors than we tend to be. Does she speak of it still?”

Aisling traced patterns on the blanket, a distant look in her eyes. Her smile faded, and that tiny ember burned itself out as quickly as it had flared. “The people where I’m from thought she was sick,” she said numbly. “They sent her away to a hospital on the mainland. She killed herself there.”

“I am sorry.” Kael’s countenance softened a fraction further. There was an unexpected edge of empathy threading through his apology.

“It was a long time ago now.” Aisling shrugged. “I guess I just hoped that I could find some sign of her here.” As the thought left her mouth, she realized just how true it was. Though she’d come in pursuit of answers to the riddles posed by the prophecy, she’d been much more easily convinced to do so than her cautious nature should have allowed. It was for this reason—seeking a connection to her mother, and maybe some way to redeem herself for her own disbelief, for letting her be taken away in the first place—that she’d gone along so willingly with Rodney’s plan.

“You’ve validated her stories, is that not a sign?” he mused. Kael’s silver eyes held an understanding that seemed almost out of place, but they froze over again when they found their way down to Aisling’s wrist. “Though, at what cost?”

She tugged at the chain instinctively. The connection they had shared, however brief, was slipping away before she could hope to take advantage of it. It was as if Kael had pulled up a drawbridge,shutting her out once again. “This cost is artificial. You’re the one keeping me here; you could let me go.”

“Ah, the brave words of a caged bird. You may have gained Methild’s sympathy, but you will not find the same in me.”

Aisling swallowed the lump in her throat, determined to hold her ground even as Kael’s demeanor shifted. “I’m not asking for your sympathy,” she countered angrily. “I’m asking for my freedom.”

“You’re in no position to be asking for anything at all.” He rose and pushed the chair back against the wall with his foot. Then, he reached into his cloak and withdrew a leather-bound book that he tossed onto the bed beside Aisling. “Here,” he said brusquely. “To keep you entertained. It would serve you well to learn exactly why humans should not simply wander into Wyldraíocht.”

A Historical Record of Fae and Human Relations.Aisling’s nostrils flared, her fingers itching to pick up the book and throw it at his retreating back. “You can’t keep me locked up forever.”

Over his shoulder, he asked: “Can’t I?”

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