Page 27 of The Mortal Queen

“I—” Aisling managed, her mind racing quicker than she could speak. “I can’t.”

“You can,” he commanded, his grin fading from his lips but remaining in his jadeite eyes. “And you will. Its intention was to tear you limb from limb,” Lir interjected, his voice the only coherent sound amidst the discord. “That’s what it means to survive outside your iron walls.”

Aisling took a cautious step back.

“Or do you prefer when someone else kills for you?” He stepped towards her.

Aisling’s eyes darted towards the trow. Its pale,slimy skin now painted purple, it strained against the roots holding it in place. The trow squealed more loudly and the audience grew impatient.

Aisling couldn’t deny she wanted the thing dead. A dark creature within herself delighted at the sight of the beast in pain. Had looked forward to Lir slaying the blight. But Aisling didn’t have it in her. She was no warrior. No soldier. No king.

Aisling tightened her fists at her sides, grinding her jaw harder.

“You’re wicked,” Aisling spat but Lir only exhaled a laugh.

“Do you claim to stand against such beastly sins when practiced by your own kind then?” Lir challenged, his expression darkening the longer he spoke, “or did you defend the Sidhe when your father slaughtered our villages? You see there are none who are fully wicked nor fully pure. Only those hungry enough to be powerful.”

“You describe the world as if they are nothing more than beasts.”

“Most of us are.”

Aisling shook her head, balling her hands into fists, a rejection of the blade Lir still held before her, eager for her to take.

Lir’s expression grew smugger, narrowing his eyes. “We are all slaves to desire. And right now, princess, all that separates you from that trow’s desire is me.” He grinned like a wolf, deadly and handsome all at once. “You can change that,” he continued. “You can take what he wished to take from you. Take and not be taken from.”

Aisling’s eyes flicked towards the axe before her, glinting marvelously. Encouraging her to come closer. To touch its haft. Wrap her fingers around the wooden hilt, the braided designs. To paint her hands in red.

“The choice is yours: predator or prey,” the fae king purred.

Aisling met Lir’s eyes, careful not to lose herself in theirConnemara glean. Holding onto the edge of reality as she looked deeply into those murderous depths, her mind spun faster with each passing moment. Her stomach twisting more tightly. Her knees wobbling, about to buckle beneath the pressure. The screams of the surrounding audience vibrated through her bones.

“You wish to corrupt me,” Aisling surmised in barely a whisper.

His smile widened then, those fangs winking back at Aisling. An expression that seized her heart, dared her to look away. The cord between them groaning, nearly snapping.

“No,” he said, “I wish to show you, you already are.”

Aisling couldn’t halt the shivering of her shoulders in the cold. Couldn’t help but to swallow the stone lodged in her throat. For by now, she could no longer feel her legs. Her hands. She was numb, adrenaline coursing through her veins. And perhaps it was adrenaline that unfolded her fists. Perhaps it was adrenaline that raised her arm and gripped the haft of the axe, raising it with both hands with all her might. Perhaps it was adrenaline that turned her towards the helpless trow and raised the axe above her head. Perhaps it was adrenaline that made her enjoy what she was to do next.

CHAPTER IX

Afternoon bled into evening. Only the moon and the stars and the firelight illuminated the night, a night that seemed to never end. The Aos Sí had yet to exhaust their energy, dancing to rhythmic, feverish music till Aisling believed their feet bruised beyond recognition—perhaps if they were mortals this would be the case.

Resisting the smells of the feasts spilling over the dining tables beneath the tents, the mortal queen followed the engorged squirrel scampering over every plate. Aisling considered allowing herself to indulge in such delights with Gilrel as her guide. Some foods were more dangerous to humans than others, more likely to form an insatiable addiction amongst her mortal kind. But despite her insatiable appetite, anger fueled her, the memory of their games burned into her mind. And where Aisling believed she’d be scarred, tormented, traumatized by the act of slaying the trow, she was not. The strange sensation of the axe beheading the trow was indeed now ingrained in her mind. The immediate gratification of power she’d garnered from watching its life slip from its blind eyes. Sweet vengeance a lingering taste on her tongue.

And for the most part, the fair folk continued to avoid Aisling as she did them, watching her warily from a distance.Aisling’s slaying of the trow garnering her no approval from the Aos Sí.

As for Lir, all Annwyn was eager to catch a moment of his attention. He obliged, spinning around theSnaidhmeffortlessly. He didn’t rule from a distance as did Nemed. He ruled amongst them. So much so that, Aisling herself believed the respect of this bloodthirsty monarch’s subjects to rival her father’s own, their fear of their king to rival Nemed’s.

“Have you tried the wine?” a female voice piped from across the width of the dining table. Aisling lifted her gaze to find one of the fae staring back, her expression feline. Cornellian beetles lining her throat like precious gems and the crisp smell of autumn blooming in the air as she spoke. Peitho.

She’d peeled off her armor, instead sporting a gown of sparkling ginger, honey, and marigold cobwebs.

“I’ve been told it’s unwise.” Aisling softened her tone, relaxing her shoulders despite the stress bundling each of her muscles. Such pain only worsened her fury for the fair folk. Her resentment a bitter fog circling her every conscious thought.

“For mortals, it is indeed,” Peitho purred. Aisling made to walk away, to continue her perusal of the feast but Peitho matched her pace, walking parallel to the mortal queen.

“Forgive my manners,mo Lúra,” the fae princess persisted. “I am Peitho, princess of Niltaor, a southern Sidhe territory. Have you heard of it?”

---