Page 117 of The Mortal Queen

Not too far off, Iarbonel, Annind, and Fergus awaited both Aisling and Dagfin with fresh mares stirring beside them. They joined her brothers quickly, wasting not a breath of time.

“Took you each long enough,” Fergus teased, as they each nudged their horses forward.

“You should know better than to doubt me,” Starn quipped, offering Aisling his canteen of water. Normal water. Not Sidhe wine, Aisling realized, taking the bottle and downing its contents.

Aisling, her brothers, and Dagfin travelled both day and nights, glancing over their shoulders, sleeping with one eye open, their blades beneath their heads. Eating mortal foods that tasted of ash compared to the fae delicacies the mortal queen had become accustomed to. Even the air this far from Annwyn was stale. Duller, lacking in its fae luster. And the cord between herself and Lir grew taut. Grew angry. At times, waking Aisling to the sound of Lir’s rage.

“It was Aisling we doubted.” Annind woke Aisling from her reverie, eyeing his sister with a narrow glare.

“I admit I doubted when Dagfin first claimed you’d agreed to flee with us,” Starn continued, leading their group forward.

“This is temporary,” Aisling said, tempering her rage by squeezing the mount’s reins. “Just until I reach Lofgren’s Rise.”

“Father will be made aware of your plans one way or another.” Iarbonel nudged his mount till it pranced beside Aisling’s.

The mortal queen considered him. “It isn’t I you should fear tattling.” Her eyes flashed towards Starn, the fire hand’s favored child.

“Nemed has already caught wind of a curse breaker. It’s only a matter of time before he and the Aos Sí alike decide to pursue it. It’ll be a race to Lofgren’s Rise.” Annind gestured for the canteen.

“I’m not after the curse breaker.” She needed answers. Needed to know who she was becoming and where she belonged.

“It’s a perilous journey, Ash. One met by demons of the Other at every bend. I myself failed to enter Lofgren’s Rise on my first attempt,” Dagfin chimed, his breath warming the top of her head, her cheeks, her neck.

“You cannot go alone; it’s impossible—” Fergus began before Dagfin interrupted him.

“She won’t be venturing alone. I’ll be accompanying her.”

“The Aos Sí will be after you near as madly as they’ll pursue Aisling herself. You’ll be outnumbered, chased, and challenged by all you encounter,” Starn said, keeping his eyes on the highlands further north.

For indeed, if what the Sidhe spoke was true, Dagfin was cursed, destined to live the remainder of his years outrunning the very magic Aisling craved.

Aisling bit her bottom lip. Her brother’s warnings meant little to her for there was nothing that would stand in the way of her pursuit for answers. She’d discover who and what she’d become whether it killed her to do so. At any cost.

“You’ll need a capable fighter or four to accompany the both of you,” Starn continued.

Dagfin turned his attention to the future king of Tilren. “A Faerak will more than compensate for those numbers.”

“Perhaps, but you lack reason and impulse control. Especially amongst the present company.” Each of them glanced at Aisling from the corner of their eyes, Dagfin tensing behind her.

“Who do you suggest?” Dagfin continued rather desperately.

“I suppose I would do,” Iarbonel responded. “I’m in need of a fine quest.”

“As am I.” Fergus raised his hand.

Annind shook his head. “And I suppose I’d feel rather left out if I didn’t agree by now.”

Starn grinned.

“There you have it.”

Aisling looked between each of them, disbelief twisting her features.

“Don’t look at us like that, little sister,” Iarbonel said. “We left you to all the fun and adventure once. It won’t happen again.”

Aisling did her best to swallow but her throat had run dry. She’d believed they despised her and all that she’d become and perhaps they still did. Aisling wasn’t so naive anymore to believe they wished to help her from the kindness of their hearts and no more.

“Father will never allow it. He’ll command you to return to Tilren at once.”

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