Page 116 of The Mortal Queen

So, Aisling at last tore herself away, summoning thedraiochtas mightily as she was capable. Caring little for the guilt that would’ve once eaten her alive at the notion of embracing he who wished to slaughter her kind. Lir had been right. Had always been right. The strong rose on the failuresof the weak. A fair game of strength, victory, and loss.

A wall of fire formed just as Lir reached out for her, unwilling or unable to release her.

“A heart for a heart,” she repeated, through the veil of the torchlit wall. But Lir’s expression spoke for itself, one that forced the rock-faced cliffs to their knees, re-energized the Unseelie, maddened the fair folk and their bipedal beasts. For he may have outwitted the mortals, ensnared much of her kind’s most prominent leaders, but he hadn’t won everything. And Aisling had. Relishing in the taste of her freedom, her agency apart from the ownership of others. Either Tilren’s or Annwyn’s.

“Stay,” he whispered one last time.

In answer, Aisling stepped back, every step away from him fraying the cord between them.

She ran. Turned her back on her husband and sprinted towards her freedom. One day, they’d meet again, and she anticipated the day near as much as the day she learned of herself and her newfound fate. Her heart was bound to the fae king either by magic spells, cords of destiny, or something else. Something greater, that much she knew. For Aisling and Lir’s future were woven by the lady. Intricate tapestries whose tales were knit tightly together. Needlework already sewn into the fabric of the stars.

So, she’d dream of him till once more they met.

And as though it were nothing more than a whisper. As though it were a voice in her own mind, Aisling heard him. Heard his voice slither through her as she ran farther into the bedlam.

“Very well. ThenI’ll hunt you down.”

CHAPTER XXXVI

Aisling picked up her skirts and fled. Dagfin cut through yet another trow, breathlessly intercepting her and guiding her towards their escape.

It was possible she witnessed Gilrel impale a mortal amidst the chaos, beheld Rian skirt death, watched Filverel behead an ill-matched opponent, caught Galad’s sapphire eyes. The Sidhe who battled the mortal sentinels till none remained. But it all could’ve been her imagination. Her mind making sense of the bodies she leapt over, the Unseelie swarming the verdant fields like floodwaters descending upon civilization. And ahead of her, her brothers waited for her. Sat on their mounts, yelling over the bedlam, until she arrived. Until she’d escaped the fae ambush none––not even Nemed––had been prepared for.

A creature Aisling had never encountered before lunged towards her, grabbing her ankles. For after a few moments it was clear the Unseelie were chasing her and no longer the fleeing mortals. Lir would stop at nothing before she was returned to him. Wouldn’t allow her to slip from his grasp. And this demon, Aisling knew, was most likely a goblin.

It grinned as it latched its slimy green fingers around her ankle, pulling her onto the ground. In the blink of an eye,Dagfin plunged a fae sword he’d collected along the way between the fiend’s eyes. The goblin shrieked in pain, a sound that nearly rendered Aisling deaf.

With Dagfin’s help, Aisling staggered to her feet, tripping on the hem of her gown now splattered with red and brown. Torn and fraying as she spotted Starn racing towards herself and the Roktan prince on horseback, a spare horse following shortly behind. A pool of dread deepened within her as she wondered whether Galad had survived their clash.

With the flick of a wrist, he cut down two fomorians and three monsters Aisling didn’t know the names of. One by one, they fell to the earth like birds shot from the sky, moaning as the Tilrish prince’s blades landed in their skulls. And once Starn was near enough, Dagfin lifted Aisling onto the spare destrier, joining her in front in one swift movement. Aisling wrapped her arms around his waist, bracing herself for the cool burst of wind cutting their faces, the gale as motivated to prevent the mortal queen’s departure as Lir and his Unseelie were themselves.

But they weren’t free yet.

Leshy stalked them from behind, reaching for their mares’ hooves with his enormous hands. Wispy hands that could hold twenty men. And Aisling gasped as their mount nearly lost its footing. A result of Leshy’s earth-shattering steps, as if rattling the world and turning it on its axis.

“Hold on,” Dagfin whispered, lowering himself, driving the mare quicker. But the giant was too large, too quick to be outraced. Slamming his bare feet mere paces from the mare’s rump.

“It’s too fast,” Aisling shouted.

She closed her eyes, concentrating on thedraiocht, summoning garlands of fire before the giant’s every step.

“Well done,” Starn praised, racing beside them and eyeing where her fires wove across the earth like bestial serpents. Devouring all that was greenand alive.

Leshy staggered awkwardly over the fires slowing his steps, buying them more time, but still, he loomed over them, regaining his balance.

So Dagfin ducked lower, weaving the mare through Leshy’s legs. From his belt, the Roktan prince unblocked a chain of iron.

“Hold your breath,” he commanded Aisling, so she did.

After swinging the iron chain above his head, Dagfin released it, just as he’d done the bolo. One end he tossed to Starn, the other he kept firmly in his grasp. And together, they touched Leshy’s ankle, simmering the giant’s flesh. Still, it was not enough to bring the giant to its knees. But Dagfin wasn’t done. He and Starn drove their destriers through the Unseelie’s legs thrice more times, expertly guiding their mounts like needles, the chain as their thread. For once the Faerak and Tilrish prince were done, they darted on ahead, still holding that chain tightly in their gloved fists. And the further they fled, the tighter the iron rope grew, cinching Leshy’s ankles together where Dagfin and Starn had masterfully bound them together.

Leshy collapsed against the earth, flattening hordes of Unseelie racing just below him. A boom that echoed throughout all the isles, perhaps even all the realm. The impact hurtled Starn, Dagfin, and Aisling into the air along with their horses. They slammed into the ground, the air knocked from Aisling’s lungs.

“Ash!” Dagfin shouted, immediately rising from where he’d fallen and racing towards her. Aisling scrambled to her feet, catching his outstretched hand.

They ran. They ran quickly, sprinting for their lives as they’d done as children. Although now, it was no longer make-believe.

CHAPTER XXXVII

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