Page 82 of The Mortal Queen

“But if this prince isn’t hercaera…”

“Peitho is aware of her duty to all Seelie and Unseelie alike.” After all, Lir had taken the same risk. Was he so willing to risk it once more? Were the mortal sovereigns willing to risk it once more? The odds that, according to fae superstition, two of the fair folk were matched with two mortals were unlikely. Like a surefire way to renew tensions and throw Aisling’s own union out the window. Should this marriage end in bloodshed, not only would Aisling’s life be in jeopardy but Dagfin’s as well; no, she couldn’t dwell on such possibilities, so she ripped it from her mind. When it came to Aisling’s own throat, had Nemed done similarly in the name of mankind?

“I’d quite enjoy watching Peitho behead a mortal nobleman,” Rian piped.

“Nothing has been cast in the Forge as of yet,” Filverel said. “It’ll need to be discussed. Weighed. Planned?—”

“How do we know we can trust this prince? Who’s to say any of this is any more than rumor?” Hagre growled in Fae, nodding his head towards the letterAisling had tucked away in her doublet. Gilrel immediately translated beneath her breath.

“We don’t.” Rian ran his fingers through his flame of hair. “We’ll need to discover the surety of his letter for ourselves.”

There was silence for a moment. Each of the knights silently mulling over the possibilities. Another wedding would be a grand request indeed and for what measure? Aisling couldn’t imagine Peitho sworn to a mortal. He’d be dead within the year even if they were by some miraclecaera.

“You need to return to Annwyn,” Lir said in Fae, locking eyes with his advisor.

“I can’t turn around now, not when we’re so close,” Filverel protested, his mount stomping under the stress of the advisor’s grip on his reins. “The empress is nearby. I can taste it.”

“Aisling and I will fare the remainder of the way on our own. The rest of you are needed back home,” Lir said, his voice bored, unamused. But Aisling knew beneath that layer of calm, collected arrogance, uncertainty lay. “There’s too much afoot for the majority of my court to be away from Annwyn.”

The knights exchanged dubious glances. “Butmo Damh Bán?—”

“Return now. Aisling and I will continue to the Isle of Mirrors and return within a fortnight,” Lir insisted, eyes flicking towards the mortal queen.

“Let me stay—”Filverel pushed.

“You’re needed most in Annwyn, Fil. Myself and Rian will journey alongside them,” Galad interjected. “Danu would consider this many of us a threat and a challenge to her dominion regardless. Whatever Lir intends with the empress, it’s wiser to approach in fewer numbers.”

“He’s right,” Rian said. “If what the prince says is true, you’re needed in Annwyn.”

“Of all of us, Galad, it should be you returning as well. Your input is needed alongsideFilverel’s in the king’s absence. Let me go on with Lir,” Hagre offered.

Galad shook his head. “I’ll not leave Lir’s side. My responsibilities at court come secondary to my oath. I’m confident the rest of you will manage exceptionally without me.” Hagre’s lips pressed into a thin, white line as he considered.

“I’ll be accompanying them as well,” Gilrel chimed, lifting her muzzle high.

“That won’t be necessary—” Galad began but was swiftly interrupted.

“Need I remind you, I took a similar oath, Galad. To service the queen and her every whim until her dying breath. How am I to do that if I’m forests away?”

“If the marten is going, then I’m going,” Cathan said, hushing his restless stag beneath him.

“Neither of you are coming,” Lir said, his voice resolute. “Annwyn needs each of you. Myself, Aisling, Galad, and Rian will return as soon as we’ve held an audience with the empress. It won’t be long.”

“But—” Gilrel began before Aisling reached out and took her paw.

“It’s alright,” the mortal queen said, squeezing the creature’s paw. “Our return will be swift.” Aisling’s violet eyes searched Gilrel’s own. The handmaid parted her muzzle to speak but no words emerged. Instead, she nodded her head, ears lowering. An expression that both warmed the mortal queen and weighed heavy on her heart.

Filverel darkened but Lir said nothing. The fae sovereign had already made up his mind and his word was final. He wouldn’t repeat himself nor take kindly to further arguing. Brethren, comrades, council or not. Even if each of them struggled to conceal their palpable frustration and concern for abandoning their king just before he was to meet the empress of the dryads.

Furious, Filverel, cast one last glance Aisling before darting down the valley from where they’d come, a threat tothe mortal queen should she harbor any intentions of harnessing her young fire against the fae king.

Gilrel turned to Aisling.

“Be safe,mo Lúra,” the lady’s maid whispered, kissing the mortal queen on the cheek. A peck as cold and soft as a dew drop in spring. “I’ll eagerly await your return.”

Gilrel and the rest of the knights hesitated for a moment before following after Filverel, encouraging their harts back through the highlands. Every step a step further from the king they’d sworn to protect and fight beside.

Lir, Aisling, Galad, and Rian stood in silence for several moments, watching the rest of their procession disappear amidst the landscape of rock and pine and snow. Listening to nothing but the howl of the wind, barreling through these stony corridors, and the fading chorus of hooves upon grass and gravel.

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