Page 56 of The Mortal Queen

“And yourself? What do you make of your own childhood?”Aisling asked as Gilrel set aside the bowl of mashed leaves.

“Marten kits born during the age of the Forge maintain their youth far longer than humans. The same applies to the Sidhe. Our childhoods are decades of whimsy and bliss. I was blessed enough to grow old with a member of my litter. As rare as it is for either Sidhe or Forge beasts to bear children, it is even rarer for them to raise two children near the same age. So long as Nuala was there, loneliness was as distant as Fiacha’s Southern Star. By the time she was gone, I was well into my first century.” Gilrel swallowed. “Nevertheless, I’ll never truly regrow the wilted roots she left behind.”

Aisling knew not what to say. Only that Gilrel’s own sorrow seemed to pool within the mortal queen. Bottomless, cold, and silent. To carry such misery for an eternity was a burden Aisling couldn’t begin to imagine.

Against her own volition, Aisling reached out and took hold of Gilrel’s paw. In the first breath, Gilrel tensed, straightening as stiff as a rod. In the second, Gilrel slowly exhaled whatever tension had taken hold, slackening her muscles. And in the third, she smiled at the mortal queen.

“She is in the Otherworld now,” Gilrel said, more for herself than Aisling. The mortal queen knew not what the Otherworld was. She’d heard tales. Used the expressions. But didn’t know what ittrulymeant. An afterlife of some kind, she gathered. And although the mortals believed death was final, it only made sense that the Aos Sí, with their religion and gods, would have faith in another place. Another time. Another world where the long passed could rest.

“There are no gods, do not let the religion of the Aos Sí deceive you, plague your mind. This world is an earthly one, designed by mortals and for mortals.”Nemed’s words found her when she least expected them, warring with the Aos Sí even in his absence.

“Nuala was a beloved member of oursociety,” Filverel interjected.

Had he been eavesdropping this entire time? Of course, he had. How had Aisling expected anything less from the advisor?

“One of countless kin lost at the hands of mankind. A sister of the Forge. In fact, just around this very fire, there are stories of similar loss to be told.” Filverel raised his voice, gathering the attention of the rest of the group. One by one, the knights hushed their conversations and dragged their gaze towards Filverel.

“Hagre,” Filverel addressed the knight specifically. “I’m certain our mortal queen has yet to hear of yours.”

Hagre tore a large chunk of meat from the bone he gnawed, flashing his pale eyes at Aisling.

“I’m sure the mortal wench is fully aware of how the fire hand spends his days,” Hagre growled, “but I’ll tell it in case you’ve forgotten.” His lips peeled back in a cruel smile, boasting wickedly sharp fangs painted pink with blood. Aisling clenched her jaw, willing herself to meet his eyes. The knight wished to intimidate her. To give him the satisfaction was to surrender what pride she hoarded.

Lir lounged on the other side of the fire, eyes wrought with something dark as he glared at his knight.

“Your father had just set fire to the southern edge of the forests. The sky was black for the days following, as myself and others of our kind searched those scorched forests. We turned over the burnt remains of centuries-old trees, sifted through the ash that lay like blankets of brittle, grey-clad snow. Nearly drowned ourselves in soot, smoke, and leaping embers in search of the Sidhe who weren’t able to escape in time. Among them Sidhe children.”

The group held their breath, glaring into the licks of flame flaring at the center of their circle. Aisling bit her tongue, clenching her fists at her sides. He was lying. And if he wasn’t, Nemed would’ve never burnt down forests had he known innocents remained within their keep. To kill an enemy soldierwas one thing. But to kill a child? No. That was the sort of evil the Aos Sí participated in. Not the mortals. Not her father.

Aisling flicked her eyes away from Hagre, meeting Lir’s own looking back. He sat across the circle from her, elbows resting on his knees.

“I went after him. Forge be damned the consequences; I went after the fire hand myself. To make him regret lighting that torch until his dying breath.”

Aisling tried to swallow but couldn’t.

“I found him soon enough, fleeing towards your precious mortal walls, afraid of the vengeance snapping at his heels. So, I attacked. Striking at that bastard with every morsel of my Sidhe strength. But it wasn’t enough. There were too many of them. Too many mortals defending the fire hand till they were able to shackle me down with your iron chains.” Hagre lifted his wrists, revealing scarlet scars, bubbling like fossilized blisters. “And if that weren’t enough, they tied me to their horses, dragging me for miles. Hooves embellished with iron horseshoes, nicking at my skull for—I don’t know how long.”

Aisling’s eyes betrayed her, wandering towards the scars she’d noticed when she’d first laid eyes on this member of the fair folk, hundreds of red scrapes around Hagre’s shaved head.

“If it weren’t for Lir’s intervention, I’d be dead,” Hagre spat, turning from the mortal queen as though she were scum beneath his boot.

Aisling’s hands trembled so she hid them at her sides, clutching the rock on which she sat till her knuckles grew white. But her attempts were thwarted by the fae king who’d already witnessed it.

“Rian?” Filverel turned to the red-haired knight, gesturing for him to go next.

Rian sighed, passing his flask to Einri. “Before Lir’s reign, Sidhe villages were spread throughout the Isles of Rinn Dúin. Only the capital, Annwyn, stood where it does now, surrounded by a humble kingdom.Your great-grandfather took advantage of this. The Sidhe could overpower the mortals but against your endless iron fleets…they could overtake our small, divided villages. So, they did. Your great-grandfather ransacked my village, taking and destroying all they could before Sidhe retaliation. In a single morning, everything I had was gone.”

Aisling’s ears rang. Her skin was uncomfortably hot. Aisling felt like an insect trapped beneath a glass, the sun glaring through the center, threatening to scorch her alive. There was little she could say. Little she could do. And even if she attempted to speak, she didn’t trust herself enough to withhold the flood of tears glazing her eyes. No, she’d transform herself into stone. Strong and resolute. Immovable. But within, Aisling was cold fury and insatiable sorrow.

“After that, Lir brought all of the villages under his immediate protection. Brought them all into Annwyn, where we cannot be outnumbered.” Rian snatched the flask back from his comrade, speaking those last words as threats. As though Aisling herself planned to lay siege on their fae home. Didn’t they understand she was a harbinger of peace? That her very presence in Annwyn and amongst the Aos Sí was not a declaration of war but of peace between their kinds? But of course, they would not trust her. How could they after centuries of rivalry?

“Galad?” Filverel tipped his head to the knight beside Aisling. The mortal queen bit the inside of her cheek. She couldn’t handle, couldn’t take another tale especially if it left Galad’s lips.

“She’s heard enough, Fil,” Galad scolded mercifully.

But Filverel had not. The advisor flared before speaking, “Allow me then.”

For a moment, Aisling wondered why he bothered torturing her so. There was little purpose in rehashing the crimes of mortals after Aislinghad sacrificed everything for peace between the races. But then Aisling realized this was Filverel’s small form of vengeance. To humiliate her, to hold the mortal queen accountable for her race. Even if it meant nothing. Did nothing, it was enough to witness Aisling squirm.

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