Page 47 of The Mortal Queen

“You’re looking well,” he said, cocking his head to the side and probing her with his opalescent eyes. “I’d ask if you’ve heard back from your father but I’m already aware of the answer.”

Aisling’s jaw set, face reddening.

“Any idea why that may be?” he pressed, smiling even as he took a large sip of his wine.

“Have you nothing better to do than concernyourself with my father?”

“I’m Lir’s first court advisor. It’s my job to concern myself with the fire hand of the North. Especially when he’s been so silent. I think you’d agree his sudden, if not abrupt, tranquility is cause for concern. I can’t remember a time the high king of Tilren wasn’t clumsily trampling on fae sensitivities.”

“Because there’s never been a time presaged by a peace treaty. One Nemed proposed.” Aisling made a point of peering around Filverel, more interested in concluding the conversation than prolonging it. But Filverel laughed, bearing his pointed canines.

“How naive you are if you believe Nemed to abandon all he covets for the sake of peace.”

“If that’s what you believe, then why did any of you agree to the union?”

“You may recall my admission that I was among those who advised against it,” Filverel said, running his fingers through his silken hair. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I had your best interests in mind,mo Lúra. You should be thanking me. It was Lir who believed your head was worth the risk.”

Aisling’s brows knotted, irritated that in this sense, she agreed with Filverel. Especially after what Peitho had already divulged.

“He is the worst of them: ruthless, merciless, no more than a beast driven by hunger, need, and power. But, unlike the wolf, he is insatiable.”Nemed had been right about Lir. Had known, and Aisling had never doubted his word. So why now did Aisling feel the prick of a sharp shadow following the truth of Filverel’s argument?

“Aisling,” his voice called, one Aisling could identify in her sleep. Not because she’d heard it often but because it was a voice that belonged to the fae lord.

Lir approached, his cunning eyes fixed on the mortal queen. Peitho was no longer visible amongst the hordes of twirling fair folk.

“You drive me mad waiting.”

“You shouldn’t claim to wait upon that which you dread,” Aisling quipped, shooting daggers at the king from beneath her dark lashes.

His expression lifted slightly, the corners of his lips curling.

“Care to dance?”

Aisling hesitated, his eyes fluttering across her every feature. The last time Aisling had partaken in such revelry with the fae king, she’d been enchanted, on the precipice of her sanity.

“Perhaps the fleshling requires sustenance,” Filverel suggested, his empty concern maddening.

Lir considered Aisling again, eventually gesturing towards his throne and the empty seat beside it, “I’ll settle for dinner then. But I warn you, a debt to a fae is a perilous debt indeed.”

Lir offered his hand to the mortal queen. Aisling considered it for a moment, the rage and sorrow she felt towards the fae king collapsing into complete dissonance. Lir’s past challenged Aisling’s preconceived expectations of him—a nightmare when compared to the waking fantasy, each a blurry truth existing simultaneously. But, to Aisling, it mattered little what she personally felt or thought of the fae king. What mattered was the treaty, her duty, the strengthening of the mortal world as a result of her union with Lir.

So, Aisling accepted Lir’s hand. Her chest tightened at his touch. And if it hadn’t been for the muscle flaring in his jaw, the hesitation, Aisling wouldn’t have believed he also sensed that strange string curling between them. They’d touched hands once before, when they were handfasted, and even then the sensation had been enough to unbind her. An acute, near painful jolt of energy. The joining of that which grows with that which kills.

Lithely, Lir collected himself, guiding Aislingtowards the dining table with both Filverel and Gilrel following shortly behind.

Aisling recognized many of the knights sitting around the table: Galad and Rian were positioned the closest, along with, unfortunately, Filverel. Cathan, Yevhen, Tyr, Einri, Aedh, Hagre among others, sat further down until the knights dissolved into trooping fae Aisling was both familiar with and not. Among those she knew were Peitho, Blaine, Noirin, and Deidra. Aisling intentionally avoided their watchful eyes as Lir led her towards the seat beside his own.

Gilrel sat to the left of Aisling, waiting for the mortal queen to settle before doing so herself.

And as the mortal queen took her seat beside the king, she couldn’t help but notice her plate was different from the others, her meal specifically prepared for mortal consumption. Even her chalice was one of water instead of wine.For only demons and monsters could eat poison and live, Aisling thought to herself.

Those seated nearest to the mortal queen, nodded their heads in her direction so Aisling stiffly returned their gestures. Filverel inspecting her every twitch as though she might burst into flames before his very eyes.

It didn’t take long for the table to resume their conversation, fae babble to Aisling’s untrained ears. They devoured their meals with bare hands, ignoring the ivory utensils set before them. An orchestra of drunken laughter, heated arguments, clumsy songs, and outlandish tales. So unlike Castle Neimedh’s suppers: meals to be eaten in silence or idle, soft chatter. No discussion of politics or business, humor or controversy. All rules which Starn, Iarbonel, Fergus, Annind, and Aisling broke on several occasions. Fergus, in particular—for as much as he hated the fair folk—would find enjoyment in meals like these: endless food and the permission to indulge with wild abandon.

Galad turned to Lir then, murmuring something in Fae towhich Rian glowered in Galad’s direction, pointing his knife at the fae knight. Rian gestured at Aisling next and Lir grinned wolfishly. The mortal queen bristled, eyes darting between the knights as they continued back and forth. Speaking of her as though she were a child and beneath their direct acknowledgment.

“Galad says you can outride most of Lir’s knights, including Rian,” Gilrel at last translated in Aisling’s ear.

---