Page 122 of The Savage Queen

The cold of Fionn’s chamber betrayed the warmth of the following hall.

A chapel of some sort, wrapped in the mosaic of Racat and blurred by the incense purling to the glass ceilings up above, warning of the night to come. An altar at the foot of the room, protected by the image of an owl, wings outstretched.

Aisling moved first, near racing down the center aisle. She needed to reach Lofgren’s peak before she dissolved into madness. Her heart ripping in two with every bloody beat.

“Aisling, wait—” Lir called after her, but Aisling despised the sound of his voice. Its every seductive lilt, the depth of its timber, how it thrummed through her core. How it made her, even for a breath, justify what Lir had confessed to Fionn.

“Then her purpose will be fulfilled, ended by my axe.”

Lir couldn’t lie. And so, his words rang true and straight, threading the lines of fate into a tapestry of her death.

“Aisling.” Lir caught Aisling’s wrist spinning her toward him. Aisling summoned herdraiochtbut found it still swathed in smoke. Thedragúninside manically trying to defrost whatever bitter winter Fionn and the Lady had blown into Aisling’s heart. The collar around her neck strangling her.

“Aisling,” he said again, searching her eyes, his own ringed with dark circles. The sharp edge of his jaw lined in cuts and his arm still bleeding from the clash with his brother.

“Never speak my name again!” she shouted, shoving him back. Embarrassed by the height of her anger, by the intensity of her emotion.

Lir had never claimed to be anything other than her enemy. An ally at times. Someone bound by the Forge. But never a friend, never a lover—Aisling shook her head, stopping the thoughts from progressing and swirling inside her head. Yet the betrayal was as potent as if they were lovers. As if they didn’t despise one another.

Lir grabbed her wrist, moving closer still, backing her against the far wall and beneath the marble owl frozen midflight. Their heads curtained by the creature’s wings.

“You’re angry,” he said, tightening his grip. “Yet you should know everything I spoke was?—”

“The truth for you cannot tell a lie? Or can you?” Aisling seethed. “Which is it, Lir? What sort of liar are you?”

“I never pretended to care for you,” he said, spearing Aisling in the heart. Her stomach rising into her throat and lodging itself like a stone she couldn’t swallow. Cheeks blistering with heat.

“No,” she said. “Yet you promised me an alliance, an allegiance at least. The power, the position you knew I hungered for, you used it against me—the crimes of my clann against me, my newfounddraiocht, my need to reach Lofgren’s Rise. Everything you’ve manipulated to your benefit.”

Lir bared his teeth, the tips of his canines sparkling. Shoulders hiked with tension. As though he himself wasn’t certain which mask to don. Which lie to speak to either Aisling or himself.

“Youaremy benefit,” he said, every word as cold as the grave.

“I am a means to your end!” Aisling screamed, moving to push him. but he caught her instead, wrapping an arm around her waist to prevent her from striking again.

“No,” he said, hardly a whisper, his lips a hair width from her own. “You are my nightmare.” He pressed his forehead against her own. “My torment, my inevitable ruin.” His breath was heavy, muscles tightening, eyes burning through her lips as he studied their every nuance with a hunger that inspired the feline glimmer in his verdant gaze. “And my unholy obsession.”

Aisling forced herself to swallow, to meet Lir’s eyes, to claw through the hurt that ravaged her chest and laid waste to her lungs.

“I’d ask which it is: obsession or manipulation?” Aisling steeled herself against the thrashing of her heart. “Yet I’d never receive a clear answer void of trickery.”

The corners of Lir’s lips curled despite himself. “I don’t have a clear answer,ellwyn.”

Aisling turned her head to the side.

“I can’t accept that,” she said. Aisling moved out of his arms and pressed her palms against the far wall. As though no distance was enough to separate them.

Lir opened his mouth to speak but was stopped short by the runes that burned into the wall behind Aisling, carving out a door.

Lir stepped back, appraising it anew, eyes wide with wonder.

“How did you open this?” Lir asked, eyes darting between the glowing runes and Aisling’s hands at her sides.

Aisling shook her head. She didn’t know. Hadn’t known it was a door to begin with.

“What does it say?” Aisling asked.

Lir fixed his eyes on her and her alone.

---