Page 68 of The Mortal Queen

“But faster than the White Lady? The phuka?” Rian challenged, an amused grin sweeping his features.

Aisling scowled, “Teach me to fight and I won’t need to.”

“Don’t bother,” a voice called from a few paces away. Aisling dragged her gaze to Filverel. The advisor approached silently, circling the three of them till he stood directly behind the mortal queen. “She doesn’t need it.”

“Go skeor keis veo, Fil,” Galad snapped but Filverel brushed him off.

“Show us what you can do,” Filverel ordered the mortal queen.

“I don’t know what you speak of?—”

“You do. You can end this tedious pretense,” the advisor growled, sending chills down Aisling’s spine. “What are you? One of the Leanan Sidhe? A changeling enslaved by Nemed and sent into the heart of Annwyn?”

“I’m a mortal, Filverel, something you remind me of often.”

Filverel ignored her. “Whatever you did to that Fomori, repeat it. Show me.”

Aisling stilled, grimacing at the weight of his proximity as he stood behind her.

“Enough, Fil. You don’t know if any of your suspicions are true,” Rian said, placing a hand on the advisor’s shoulder. And at the sound of the commotion, Aisling felt Lir’s attention cock towards them, lifting his head from the conversation he was currently immersed in by the fire, to inspect their group by the lake.

“Then why don’t we ask?” Filverel said, shrugging off the knight’s hand. “Why does thedraiochtfavor you?”

Aisling’s brows raised, resisting the urgeto sputter.

“You believe I can wield magic? That I’m some Unseelie instructed to terrorize Annwyn and its people?”

“Aye, that’s exactly what I think,” Filverel narrowed his eyes.

“What Sidhe or Unseelie do you know that can summon fire, Fil?” Rian asked. “This is unprecedented and surely nothing Nemed is aware of.”

“She would’ve already killed us all and returned to her mortal kingdom by now if she were being instructed by Nemed,” Galad chimed. “The Forge knows she’s had plenty of opportunities.”

“So, you suggest we simply trust this”—Filverel considered—“thisweapon?”

Weapon. Aisling’s eyes darted between the Aos Sí around her.

“I can hardly lift a sword much less be considered a weapon,” Aisling said, turning to face Filverel. “And as far as whatever it is you believe I can do, I assure you, I know nothing.”

“We should keep it that way,” Rian said, crossing his arms. “The more she knows, the more dangerous she becomes.”

“You’re all mad,” Aisling said.

“They’re not mad and neither are you pretending,” Lir interjected.

“How can you be sure?” Filverel asked, snapping his attention to the fae lord approaching.

“I could feel thedraiochtas it reached for her. I thought it was myself at first. But it was pleading to be used. To be inhaled, encouraging her to trust the impulse. And once she did it was overzealous and young. An emotional burst through the breath of thedraiocht,” Lir stood near to her now, looking down and searching her expression. “The trees have told me the same.”

“And you trust their council?” Filverel asked.

“Aye, I do.”

“If she’s neither Sidhe nor Unseelie, what is she?” Galad asked, cocking his head to the side to inspect Aisling as though for the first time.

“I don’t know,” Lir confessed, “and neither do the woods.”

The fair folk exchanged glances.

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