Page 70 of The Mortal Queen

I wish to summon the fire.

Aisling tried again and again to no avail. The silence and darkness mocked her, her words echoing off the walls of her consciousness. There was nothing and no one to answer her calls. Not that sentient little creature the Aos Sí had dubbed by the name of magic. The personification and origin of spells, charms, and enchantments, Aisling was quickly realizing.

Aisling held back the urge to cry. She wasn’t the weapon they believed her to be. Not the dangerous magic wielder she’d hoped herself to be. She was mortal. A poor princess. A necessary sacrifice. Fae bait. Nothing more.

“No matter what, Aisling, do not forget who you are.Don’t forget the world that made you. No matter what or how much they take from you, do not let them take who you are. Where you come from.”

CHAPTER XXII

As the rest of the fair folk slept, Aisling lay awake, studying the silver thread Lir had tied around her wrist each morning. A few paces away, Lir slumbered as well, his twin axes tucked neatly beside him.

Another week had passed since the incident at the lake. At the very least, Aisling’s failure had silenced Filverel for the meantime. No longer did he bicker with the fae king, nor look at the mortal queen with suspicion each time she needed to relieve herself in privacy.

Rian, Galad, and Gilrel, on the other hand, had continued to teach Aisling the basics of blade-wielding. The mortal queen now knew how to find her opponent’s heart with the tip of her sword or dagger, where to cut if she wished for her enemy to bleed out, and how to throw a blade so it met its target. Aisling was rather bad at each of the former lessons but nevertheless, she persisted. In time she would learn to defend herself. These Aos Sí had centuries to learn, Aisling needed to remind herself lest she be discouraged.

Aisling turned on her side, finding Lir lying on his back. The sun’s softest rays percolated through the canopies above, dappling the fae king’s face with shadows and light alike. There was something about watching Lir sleep that Aislingenjoyed, as strange as that may sound. He was a wolf curled to sleep. Not to mention, Aisling could watch him without fearing he’d catch her looking.

The mortal queen couldn’t count how often their eyes accidentally met throughout the day. As though each had an intangible sense for the other, a knowing for when one’s eyes grazed the other, pulling their attention with an irresistible tug. For indeed, Aisling often felt as though she could feel his glances. The kiss of his eyes as he watched her ride Saoirse on her own, train with Rian or Galad, talk for endless hours with Gilrel or await a raven that never arrived with correspondence in its beak. So, did the fae king also feel her watchful eyes, studying him through the night and as he slept?

The mortal queen closed her eyes for perhaps five or ten minutes, oscillating on the brink of sleep, when she was startled awake by a woman’s song.

It began slowly. A sweet melody was being sung, perhaps by a woman Aisling’s age. Her voice was haunting, dancing through the forest and into the fae party’s camp like the flowery clouds of her mother’s perfume.

Aisling bolted upright, searching through the trees. There was no one and nothing in sight. The voice grew in volume, becoming quicker, livelier. It was intoxicating. A taste of some sweet pastry that begged to be devoured bite after bite. To feel its texture on her tongue and savor the taste. Aisling’s mind became fuzzy, her thoughts muffled. All that mattered was the woman’s song. The poetry that the mortal queen couldn’t understand.

Aisling knew she shouldn’t follow it. What had Lir said? The Unseelie lure their victims into the forest with various tricks and traps, among them, song. But somehow, none of that seemed consequential. Even the mortal queen’s memory became a distant thought, lost somewhere in the subconscious.

Surely the wielder of such a voice was a benevolent creature. For how could such beauty be anything butgoodness itself?

So, Aisling stood from the ground and followed the sound. She tiptoed past the sleeping Aos Sí, careful not to startle them. And Aos Sí were easily alerted, even in their sleep.

Aisling hesitated at the edge of the fae camp. She shouldn’t go forward. Not alone. It wasn’t right. Something somewhere was hammering at her mind for her to return to camp. To wake Lir or Galad or Rian and tell them what was happening. But another part of her, the part that was in control, was eager to go forward. So, she did.

Aisling moved into the trees, allowing the voice to guide her. The first step was the most difficult. All the rest came effortlessly. The mortal queen spilled through the forest, lost to the potion steeping her human ears. And that internal voice that told her to return faded until only the song remained, enchanting her forth. That was until her wrist caught.

The mortal queen flew back, tumbling into the arms of another.

Immediately, the spell broke and Aisling bristled at the contact.

“Sshh,” Lir said softly, folding her into his arms and hiding her behind a rather thick pine. One whose branches grew low to the ground, expanding like arms. The fae king peered into the forest, eyes narrowing in the distance. “In the future, remind me to shorten this thing.”

Aisling’s eyes darted towards the starlight thread, binding her to Lir. That was how he’d known. She must have tugged him awake. The mortal queen had never been so grateful for that silver, braided snake.

“What is it?” Aisling asked, following the fae lord’s gaze.

“Merrow,” he said, hands still holding onto Aisling. And once she realized this, she stepped away, increasing the distance. A gesture met by the sharp glint in Lir’s eyes.

“Another species of Unseelie?” Aisling asked.

“Not quite,” Lir said, his voice barely a whisper. “These arethe Sidhe the gods sanctioned to the seas.”

“But there are no bodies of water near here,” Aisling replied, “are there?”

“There are areas in the isles where the water runs beneath the earth. In caves, tunnels, currents that lead towards the Ashild.” The sea that surrounded the Isles of Rinn Dúin. Waters of spice trades and shipwrecks.

“Are they your subjects then?” Aisling asked.

“All Sidhe are subject to the original or descendant Sidhe kings and queens whether they reside in one kingdom or another.”

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