Page 128 of The Savage Queen

“Stop this,” Aisling said, now swathed in smoke from failed attempts to summon herdraiocht. Teeth bared as she leaned against the threshold.

Lir stepped past Aisling, axes in hand, a few steps above Dagfin on the stairwell.

“Very well, princeling,” he said. “Let’s end this.”

CHAPTER XLI

AISLING

Roktan blades were forged with undiluted iron. Heated in fire and cooled by the tears of the Ashild. Dagfin had cast every blade that lined his bandolier. Another excuse to avoid his princely duties to play the part of hero, perhaps, but somewhere along the way, he’d stopped pretending and become one.

The tip of his blade grazed Lir’s cheekbone. The fae king dodged the attack nimbly yet, still, it grazed his flesh, carving an angry, thin red scar along his right eye.

Lir laughed, the sound of it freezing the marrow in Aisling’s bones.

“Relish whatever you’re feeling now,” he said, “because you won’t ever feel it again.”

Lir swung his axe, forcing Dagfin to stagger back and collapse against the stone entirely on the second swing. TheFaerakrolled to the side as Lir slammed his axe into the stone.

“Enough!” Aisling screamed, watching as Dagfin leapt to his feet, a sliver from Lir’s axe as he aimed for his throat, feinting left before throwing another dagger, then another. Lir raised his axe, deflecting each one artfully before raising his blade and thrusting down. Dagfin spun, grabbing his last dagger and jabbing it at Lir’s ribs.

The fae king moved lithely, knocking the blade from theFaerak’s hand with the butt of his axe.

Aisling’s chest hollowed, mind spinning. Two halves of her heart, of her soul, battling one another with the intent to end the other. Whichever outcome, bound to kill Aisling if her wounds didn’t first.

“Please,” she said, screaming at thedraiochtinside. Quiet, gone, forsaking her to watch their exchange. She staggered toward them, bleeding across the stone.

“Care to forfeit?” Lir said. “I’ll make your death swift.”

“Not quite. I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to kill a fae with my bare hands.”

So, with no weapons left, Dagfin charged the fae king, tackling him into the light and onto Lofgren’s Rise.

Aisling sucked in a breath and held it. From this vantage point, they stood atop the world if the world were a freezing, bone-white realm of twinkling evergreens and rock giants asleep in the shape of mighty mountains. A great, shimmering lake of pure silver nestled at the center, veiled like a bride in thick clouds beading with moisture. The first drip of the Forge onto the earth.

Lir and Dagfin spilled onto Lofgren’s peak, a tussle of fleshy sounds as Lir punched Dagfin in the jaw with his fist still wrapped around his axe. They fell apart, but not for long. Dagfin had pilfered a blade from Lir’s belt, raising it and swiping for Lir’s throat.

“You’ll ruin her!” Dagfin yelled, his voice echoing through all Fjallnorr. “You and your selfish, primal need for power will corrupt Aisling until there’s no going back.”

“You act as if Aisling doesn’t have a choice in the matter. You see, princeling, with me, Aisling is free to be who she’s always been: wild and powerful beyond measure.”

“You force her destiny! You shape it as you like!” Dagfin lunged for Lir, grazing his jawline with the tip of his blade.

“I seem to remember you being at our union, watching as you traded her to the Sidhe. Complicit in the sins of your kind when it came to forcing Aisling into anything.”

Dagfin ground his teeth, rage abounding, attacking faster than Aisling could make sense of their tussle.

Lir parried, growling as he elbowed theFaerakin the face. A blow Dagfin endured, jaw red and lip bleeding as he swiped for the fae king again.

Quicker, the fae king stepped to the side kicking theFaerakin the chest and shoving him onto his back with his boot. An axe to his throat.

“No!” Aisling screamed, the respite allowing Aisling to, at last, approach from behind, holding out a hand to the fae king as though he were a wolf in the woods, just as capable of stalking away as he was devouring her body and soul.

“Please,” she begged him. Aisling had sworn to never submit to the fae king. To never forfeit even a morsel of her power. But in this moment, she didn’t care. She only saw Dagfin’s throat growing slick with blood as Lir pressed harder.

“I willneverforgive you!” Aisling screamed, knowing the fae king wouldn’t care but saying it regardless. Lir cared for one thing only and that was power. Anything that threatened it would meet its end swiftly thereafter.

Lir, at last, tore his eyes from theFaerakto meet Aisling’s own. The same unholy, inhuman sheen she’d witnessed when he’d killed the Cú Scáth, when he’d slaughtered the fomorians, when he’d turned on humankind, when he’d cut through the neccakaid. Each and every time, assuring death.

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