Page 85 of The Mortal Queen

“Like thedraiocht, as you now know”—Lir gestured towards Aisling’s fire—“the element is sentient. It grows, spreads, seeks. Wishes to be felt and used and indulged. If such an elemental string is made of fate, fate is a hungry creature. But rare.”

Aisling remembered the night of their union. The three blades staked before her, unaware that her choice was a decision between life and death. No, not a decision. A gamble. One whose loss meant her own severed neck and continued conflict between the fair folk and the mortals.

The mortal queen tore her eyes away from the fae king, ignoring the burning behind her lids.

“And all of this. Your belief in this elemental tether. It’s the only reason you didn’t behead me at our union. A union you entered believing you’d paint the grass with my blood.”

Lir was taken aback, wincing as though he’d been touched by iron.

“Why would I believe that?”

“Because you’d already promised yourself to anothercaera. And twocaera…it’s unheard of, isn’t it?” It was a rhetorical question. Aisling already knew it was a myth amongst the fair folk, a shock to all those who’d attended their wedding and heard of their union after. “That night, you had every intention of ending me.”

Aisling didn’t know why the words, the thought, the memory, made her so furious. Of course, he’d harbored those intentions. But the fury she’d grown over the last several months had burst past her defenses, leaking from between her teeth.

“You know not what you speak of,” he said, a muscle flashing across his jaw. He was angry. And in this moment Aisling didn’t believe the Aos Sí weren’t made of fire. For fire is what brewed behind his lashes in wicked electric storms.

“Don’t condescend,” Aisling snapped. “I know enough. You never believed I’d choose your axe.” Twin axes still crossed at his back as they spoke. Axes Lir never let out of his sight. Axes Aisling often wondered about.

“It’s easier for you this way, isn’t it? So be it; believe me your wicked fae legend, your nightmare come to life,” he growled, the rage in his voice thrumming through Aisling’s core.

The mortal queen stood from where she sat, blowing out her fist of fire as the sun peeked its golden eyes over the summit’s edge.

“If I’d been in your position”—she forced herself to meet his eyes—“I would’ve killed you too.” And she was cursed with knowing that deep down, she would’ve enjoyed doing it.

CHAPTER XXVI

“You’ll never kill a man like that.” Rian spun on his heel, catching Aisling’s wrist. The mortal queen attempted a strike with her left fist. She swung her knuckles towards the fae knight’s jaw, but Rian blocked her blow easily.

“Too slow.” Rian twisted her whole body, pulling her back towards his chest, captured and rendered prone, her arm shoved behind her back. “And much too loud. I’ve heard dragons breathe quieter than you.”

“Dragons?” Aisling asked, struggling to wiggle out of his grasp.

“Careful, you’ll break your arm,” Rian softened his hold. Aisling took the opportunity and stomped his foot, loosening herself enough to twist and knee him between the legs. Rian swiftly stepped to the side and Aisling flew. The mortal queen collapsed into a nearby bush bubbling over with plump berries and crimson buds.

“Not so rough, Rian,” Galad scolded. “I’d rather not be the one to inform Lir you’ve wounded his bride.”

“She pounced on me,” Rian lifted his hands up innocently. “Besides, she needs the practice.”

Galad extended a hand to Aisling. Once the mortal queen had floundered out of the bush, she took the knight’s offer andstumbled awkwardly to her feet.

“Dragon?” Aisling brushed the berries off her shoulders and the buds from her braided hair.

“You’ve never heard of a dragon?” Galad asked and Aisling shook her head in response.

“A peist? A wyvern? Any sort of drake?” Rian continued.

“No, what are they?” Aisling sheathed the dagger Galad had lent her after she’d lost Iarbonel’s gift. A gift she longed for like a severed limb. Iarbonel would be furious if he ever knew she’d lost it.

“Monstrous, glorious beasts. Some have fur. Most have scales. You’ll encounter them in oceans, mountains, forests. Greedy bastards, though. Always hoarding whatever they get their claws on.”

“Are they rare? Will I lay eyes on one?” Aisling asked, following Galad back through the forest. Only she, Rian, and Galad travelled through these icy woods now. Lir had ventured on ahead, eager to scout the path ahead, commanding even the stags to stay behind and wait for their return. The Isle of Mirrors was close. Aisling could feel it. Taste it in the air. Hear it like drums, running into the earth and thrumming through her bones.

“Forge be willing, you never will,” Rian said, plucking twigs from the mortal queen’s curls.

“And why’s that?”

“They’re primordial, dangerous beasts, Ash,” Galad said, her nickname on his lips strange yet…welcome. Initially, Galad had begun calling her Ash to ridicule the mortal queen after reading the way Dagfin had addressed her in his letter. But now, it felt comfortable coming from him. It was a sweet sound amidst the animosity she’d received from the Aos Sí thus far. Rian, Galad, and Gilrel were her onlyfriends,if she could indeed call them that. They were as close as she would come to such a word while amongst the fair folk. And Lir—Aisling wasn’t certainwhat Lir was.

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