Page 35 of The Savage Queen

“Do you intend to insult a foreign queen? To hold her and her escorts prisoner?”

“You see, Aisling,” he said, using her name as though he’d known her all his age-old life. “You might be a prisoner but a cherished one. I’ve always had a bad habit of wanting whatever is Lir’s. Every oak, every ash, yew, and elm must eventually succumb to winter. As should his bride.”

Aisling reeled, unprepared for the words that left his lips. The cracking of the shackles around Dagfin’s wrists echoing inside the chamber as he struggled to free himself.

“Release me so that we might fight hand to hand,” Dagfin spat between clenched teeth. “Then we’ll see who the bloody Forge blesses, fae.”

“Fae?” He clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Your prejudices have grown stale. Indeed, if the mortals ever wish to survive Danu, they’ll need to rely on every Sidhe they damned the past several centuries.”

Aisling whipped her head toward the fae lord.

“Danu?”

Empress of dryads––Aisling had met her once before. A seer like Lir’s mother Ina, who foresaw the end to the war between mortals and fair folk. Who gleaned the fair folk’s doom, spiraling Lir into madness. An Unseelie of immeasurable power and with a legion of followers.

“I thought you knew,” he said, returning his attention to Aisling. The glimmer in his eyes punctuated with the intensity of a bird of prey, appraising its catch. “The Unseelie need a formidable sovereign, capable of protecting their interests and their realm. A task Lir ignored for the sake of Annwyn and the Seelie at large and suffered because of.”

Aisling’s eyes narrowed. Thedraiochtstirring to the taste of her annoyance. Aisling couldn’t explain it, but she could hardly bear to hear Lir spoken of in such a way. As though she’d burn any who spoke ill of him. A right she alone felt entitled to.

Nevertheless, the fomorians had disavowed Lir as their king when Aisling and his knights had traversed the feywilds, claiming a need for a new leader. Just before Lir slaughtered all dissenters who spoke of such treasonous intentions.

“Yet his forsaking of the peace treaty between mortals and Sidhe re-established himself as king. Lord of both Seelie and Unseelie. I saw the fomorians, beasts, ghouls, and Leshy ride into battle at his command, ambushing what the mortals believed was another union of peace.”

Fionn laughed beneath his breath, stepping closer to Aisling.

“Yet, there are those still unconvinced. Still bitter their king turned their back on the Unseelie. Those who support someone else. Someone new. Someone capable of changing the course of Danu’s prophecies.”

Aisling’s brows knotted.

“Danu herself.”

Fionn nodded his head. “Precisely. You didn’t think Lir was immune to usurpers, did you? It was inevitable. Lir is passionate, obsessive, powerful, and ruthless. I’m only surprised it took this long for those who both fear and despise him to wish him dethroned.”

Aisling bristled, the subject of Lir on this fae king’s tongue breeding fire beneath her skin. But she knew better than to react. So, she ignored his taunting.

“And I suppose you intend to support Danu?”

Fionn tilted his head to the side.

“I intend to do what I believe Lir cannot. Regain Sidhe authority over the feywilds, in this continent and every continent, every court, every kingdom, every realm. And if that means ending Danu myself, then so be it.”

“You’re a fool to even consider challenging Lir. He’ll tear your court limb from limb before he ever surrenders even a morsel of his power to another.”

Fionn stepped nearer still, his breath cold and biting, traveling through Aisling’s hair till it billowed on a phantom wind. The hairs on her arms standing to attention.

“Perhaps. But not if I have you.”

He reached to stroke her cheek.

“Don’t touch her!” Dagfin shouted, shattering the chains of ice with pure force. Quicker than Aisling could blink, he rose, stole a dagger from a nearby sentinel, and threw it at the fae king’s chest.

Fionn caught Dagfin’s dagger, freezing it solid and crushing it between his fingers. A sharp crack followed by the shatter of glass.

Three more sentinels grappled Dagfin to the floor with a blade at his throat. The wolves snapping mere inches from his face.

“Impressive,” the fae king said, “for a mortal. The Ocras still courses deep in your veins, emboldened by natural heroism. Although, I’d suggest going lightly on the Ocras from now on,Faerak. Magic always takes all that it gives. As I’m sure you’re already experiencing.”

“Let them go,” Aisling said, eyeing Dagfin and ignoring her brothers. Starn, Iarbonel, Fergus, Annind, and Killian, unable to move, speak, or flinch without a response from the fair folk around them.

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