Page 44 of The Savage Queen

“You cannot unbind twocaeraswithout committing a form of destruction of your own,” Aisling pleaded. Aisling wasn’t certain why the very marrow in her bones frosted over with dread at the mention of destroying her bond with Lir. As though her very soul would hollow without the cord between she and the Sidhe king pulling her back to him. She hated him, rivalled him, fought against him and yet her body shuddered at the thought ofan unbinding. She couldn’t—wouldn’t let this happen whether it was their fated bond speaking, or something else.

“The death of one is always necessary to prevent the death of many. But you will live, Aisling, if not the same as you once were.”

The spirits rose and danced wildly, celebrating the Lady’s every word as she lifted the blade above her head. White light cracked, magic swelled inside the room, till the pressure of it threatened to burst Aisling’s, her brothers’, Dagfin’s, and Killian’s ears. As though they’d suddenly been drowned in the Forge itself, lungs filled with bubbling sorcery.

“By the Forge, I vow to shear this thread,” she spoke, and her voice echoed into the millennia. “To bleed a harbinger of chaos until prosperity reigns triumphant.”

The world held its breath.

“By the Forge, I vow to you an unbinding.”

The Lady swung her sword in a blinding arc.

Aisling saw herself scream, saw Fionn brighten, witnessed Dagfin thrashing against her brothers and Killian who held him. Saw the Lady’s blade cut through the air and toward her heart.

Yet the slushy sound of a blade finally puncturing flesh wasn’t Aisling’s own.

It was rather the tip of an axe jutting from the very place the Lady’s heart should be.

The Lady’s eyes glazed over in the heartbeats before she shattered into thousands of stars. Every spirit shrieking as it flew out the ballroom windows and into the godsforsaken night.

Leaving a battle-ready knight standing in her place.

Lir.

CHAPTER XVI

AISLING

“Cold,ellwyn?” Lir’s voice echoed through the ballroom, finding Aisling’s heart and impaling it where the Lady’s sword hadn’t.

He stood taller than Aisling remembered him, forest green eyes searching Aisling’s own, ripping apart her soul, and promising both violence and mischief. Aisling’s chest hitched, her eyes glassy as she processed his presence, half wondering if he were still a dream come to haunt her when she needed him most. Realizing now, when her heart lifted at the sight of him, she’d found relief in salvation from the dark lord of the forest. Relief and terror, her hunter a few paces away at long last. He who she’d fled from, feared, anticipated like an arrow to the heart.

The room stood petrified, unmoving, as Lir stalked forth. Every step echoing into eternity while the realm held its breath. His axes glimmered beneath Fionn’s fae light, he alone, a forge-brewed demon delivering day’s death. A woodland’s every ruthless promise. A glittering nightmare more inhumanly gorgeous than any vision Aisling could conjure.

“Aren’t you?” Aisling said with whatever breath remained.

“My kind rarely grows cold,” he continued. “I’ve forgotten how weak humans can be.”

“Weak?” Aisling repeated. “It’s weak to complain of it.”

“Perhaps fragile is a better word then?” he said, the corners of his lips curling.

Aisling couldn’t help herself. Her mouth moved of its own accord, splitting into a smile herself. The same conversation they’d shared the first time they’d met, ringing inside her heart and ravaging her whole. “The most valuable things are.”

Lir smiled a devastating smile, framed by dimples Aisling had desperately tried to forget.

It was then Aisling noticed the other armored Sidhe behind him. Fae knights dressed for a bloodbath.

Galad.

Gilrel.

Filverel.

Peitho.

The backs of Aisling’s eyes pricked, bleeding her heart and clouding the room with Annwyn’s perfume. Of forest festivals, of herb-lit pipes, bluebell castle corridors, of heady music, and barefoot dances.

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