Page 38 of The Savage Queen

“And yourdraiocht. It burns you.”

Aisling tore her attention from the table, considering the fae lord more closely.

Aisling hadn’t summoned thedraiochtbefore him. Not yet. So how had he known she suffered from the very power she called upon?

“I watched you through my mirrors in your bedchamber. When you accidentally burnt your own reflection. Mirrors are gateways, Aisling. Especially during the period ofSamhain.”

Aisling resisted the urge to shiver, steadying the goblet of water in her hands.

“I suspect thedraiochtresists you when you’re far from Forge magic. Seelie, Unseelie, the feywilds, whatever form it takes or essence it imbues. You must be near it to inspire yourdraiocht,lest it burn what humanity remains.”

Aisling had considered that possibility. She often harbored suspicions but never spoke them aloud nor explored them in the privacy of her own mind. But Fionn’s theory was one she’d toyed with on occasion and seemed likely enough. A prospect that revived a glimmer of hope in Aisling. After all, Fionn had been right about the fae food. Maybe, Aisling allowed herself tohope, she might not be doomed to smite herself whenever she conjured magic.

“Let’s see for ourselves,” Aisling said and summoned thedraiocht.

A flicker of panic flashed across Fionn’s expression, swiftly vanishing as violet fire sprouted from Aisling’s fingertips. The flames grew hungry and eager but painful all the same, stinging Aisling as they sizzled and blistered her flesh once more.

Aisling bit down at thedraiocht, commanding it back into its abyss and hissing in pain.

Fionn’s lips bent with disappointment yet nothing in comparison to the gray of Aisling’s disillusioned, frustrated spirit. Hope killed by reality. Yet Aisling couldn’t bear the disappointment. So, it evolved into rage.

“Enough of this,” Aisling growled, her patience growing thin. “Every moment I waste here, tiptoeing around the sensibilities of a temperamental fae king, I jeopardize my chances of reaching Lofgren’s Rise before all others. A risk I cannot and will not afford. So enough of these games.”

They stood at opposing ends of the feast, watching one another over the pale glow of the frozen buds creeping up every wall.

“There are no others,” he said.

Aisling’s brow furrowed.

“Everyone is?—”

“Dead,” he interjected coolly, tossing a strand of silver over his shoulder. “Or they will be soon enough. You see, the other Sidhe sovereigns are either too afraid of Lir to attempt to take the curse breaker for themselves, too reliant on him to do it for them, or eager to let me do the dirty work in their stead. And as for the mortals, I can’t imagine any will get far. This is a game, Aisling. One that outmatches all and any mortal. Beasts, spells, a forest divided between yourcaeraand Danu. These are mattersfor the divine. Even yourFaerakfriends will not stand a chance if they continue on the same trajectory.”

Aisling’s eyes watered, desperately clawing at the sadness and the anxiety looming around her like a dark cloud.

“You’re impatient for what lies ahead, I understand, Aisling,” Fionn continued. “But consider this not me delaying you, rather expediting your journey.”

Aisling set down the goblet, her interest piqued.

“Let me guess, you wish for me to betray Lir and help you obtain the curse breaker in exchange for your aid reaching Lofgren’s Rise?”

Fionn slowly moved around the curve of the table, approaching Aisling. So, Aisling, coyly, continued moving, studying the way his throat bobbed at the sign of a chase.

“I wish for you and me to be bound together. To make this realm our own. You’ve been foreseen, Aisling. By Ina, by Danu, by the Lady. I bear no doubt the future is written in the shadow of whatever your birth has presaged. Together, we can shape it. Shape your destiny till none dare challenge our sovereignship. Not your father, not Danu, not Lir.”

“A true binding. You mean a union?” Aisling asked.

“Of sorts.”

If Fionn wanted a union with Aisling, it would never succeed. She and Fionn weren’tcaerawhile Aisling and Lir were. In which case, if Fionn pursued a union, Aisling and the son of Winter would be forced by magic’s hand to fight to the death. It would never come to that, of course. But teasing the possibility could be a means of biding her time till she sorted through her next steps.

“Is it your mirrors that tell you all this? That whisper the words I wish to hear?”

“They’ve shown me what unravels in the present time, this is true. But I know what truths speak to you because they speak tome as well. Aisling, you and I are the same. Controlled all our lives, imprisoned.”

“A fae king claims to understand weakness? Helplessness?” The very words burned a fire in Aisling’s gut, reigniting past fury into new flame.

“At the beginning of all things, when the twelve kingdoms were split by the Forge, the gods made one last creation, more precious to them than either land or sky, Seelie or Unseelie. Threedragúns.”

---