Page 130 of The Savage Queen

Aisling went numb. She couldn’t feel her hands, her legs, her arms. Couldn’t feel her body as the light faded from his eyes and then extinguished entirely.

Aisling would kill Lir.

And if her magic never returned, she’d find a way with her bare hands.

Aisling lay Dagfin’s head onto the ground, slipping Lir’s dagger from theFaerak’s grip. Tears streaming down her face as she stood and turned on the fae king.

“HOW COULD YOU?!” Aisling screamed, voice breaking mid-sentence.

He stood still. Expressionless as she ran for him, making to stab him in the heart. He moved swiftly to the side, dodging her onslaught. But she followed his every step, lunging again and again, breathless, lungs burning but unable to interrupt her impulse. Her every pore, smoking where herdraiochtwouldn’t light.

“Stop, Aisling,” he said softly.

“I’ll never stop!” she screamed. “Not until you’re dead!”

“Clear your mind, Aisling,” he said, catching her wrist and watching her with a hollowed, anguished expression as she clawed at his chest, pressing the dagger closer to his heart. His eyes torn and cracked with depthless sorrow as she struggled against him. Finding her other wrist and holding it. Keeping her in place as she wept. As she screamed. As she shattered before his eyes.

“Please,” he begged her.

But Aisling couldn’t. Couldn’t find her way out of these woods. Not this time. Not when every tree, every stone, every river, every shadow scratched at her soul and ripped her bloody with endless torment. As though her heart were being devoured whole. The only thing more powerful than her despair, anger.

“Would it help?” Lir asked, even softer this time.

Aisling didn’t know what he was asking, still straining against his grip.

“Would it help if you hurt me?” he asked again and this time Aisling understood.

She met his eyes and that was answer enough.

Lir released her wrist. The dagger plunged into him.

Aisling held her breath, eyes wide with shock as she glared at the dagger fully submerged in his shoulder, just above his heart. The fleshy sensation thrumming through Aisling’s hand. A small groan slipping between his teeth as he clenched his jaw.

Lir didn’t flinch, didn’t look away from her even as his blood dripped down his front. Instead, he brought her closer, holding her against him, hand still wrapped around the hilt of the dagger.

Aisling was too stunned to move, warmed by his blood as it seeped into her gown. Glaring past his shoulder into the endless oblivion of the north. Winter, a chill in comparison to the cold she felt inside. The emptiness that grew with each passing breath. Silent, until she heard the footsteps.

Slow, heavy boots behind her.

Lir held her tighter, already aware of who’d approached.

“Well done, Sister,” Starn said. “You did what few mortals have ever been capable of: stabbing a fae king. Had I known killing Dagfin would yield such results, I would have done it sooner.”

CHAPTER XLII

AISLING

Aisling spun, and the realm spun alongside her.

Starn, Iarbonel, Fergus, Annind, and Killian stood a few paces from Dagfin’s body. Lir’s bloodied axe at their feet.

Slowly, her eldest brother bent to retrieve it. Every muscle in Lir’s body tightening at the sight. So, without another thought, vines grew from the stone and snatched it from the Tilrish Prince’s fingers, returning it to its rightful master as Lir plucked Aisling’s dagger from his shoulder.

“Your tricks are less impressive now that I have my own.” Starn smirked, sliding his hands into his pockets as though unfazed. “On a whim, I can wrench that axe from your hand once more and beckon it into my own. As I’ve already done.” Starn’s eyes darted to Dagfin’s body.

Aisling shook her head, understanding but wishing desperately not to. It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t feasible that Starn could wield anydraiochtat all. Could snatch Lir’s axe from his hand and hurl it through Dagfin’s chest by the will of his mind alone. Only Aisling, born a mortal, was capable of such sorcery.

“Although, I must admit, I made a mistake,” Starn continued. “I’d intended to kill you, Sister.”

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