Page 57 of The Savage Queen

“I can’t say I’m not disappointed,” Aisling said. She heightened her voice, doing her best to sound melancholy despite the running of her heart. If Fionn would just lean a few inches closer, she could grab the parchment atop the tray of potions without him knowing.

“I’d hoped the silence of mydraiochtwas a result of a greater power and not the weakness of my own.”

“Not weakness. Youth. With time, I can teach you how to surpass such limitations. With time, you’ll grow alongside me.”

Aisling cleared her throat.

“Lir taught me how to summon mydraiochtto begin with.”

Fionn reacted viscerally to the sound of Lir’s name. Nostrils flaring.

“Then your teachings have been insufficient.”

The memory of Sakaala flashed across Aisling’s memory. The merrow’s lawless, lusty magic, a potent influence, in what Aisling found, was powerful magic indeed.

“I’m open to your influence,” she said, leaning a hair closer. Lengthening the curve of her neck and holding Fionn’s gaze the way Sakaala had done with Lir.

Fionn, still rigid from overhearing his brother’s name, appraised Aisling anew. His eyes darting across her expression.

“Then truly bind with me. Here and now,” he said, his voice deepening as his shoulders relaxed and he mirrored her posture. Those words rang in the air between them.A true binding. If it wasn’t a union, Aisling wasn’t certain what it was nor what it meant. How two souls could weave their fate threads into the Lady’s tapestry of their own will.

“How is that done exactly?” Aisling asked.

“It’s better demonstrated than explained.” Fionn cupped her jaw, leaning closer. “And I can demonstrate now.”

“I said ‘open’ to your influence not ‘committed’. You’ll have to convince me to engage in any demonstrations,” Aisling said. “At least until the tests are done with.” Aisling blinked away the rage inspired by the memory of Fionn’s deception: how he and the Lady had ensnared her and almost severed the bond between she and Lir without her consent. Nevertheless, rage, anger, vengeful thoughts would only get her so far. Fionn responded to Aisling most when she was coy and eager to participate in his games.

“Is that not what I’ve done these past several days?”

“If you believe that effort enough, then you’ve lost the battle before it’s begun.”

Aisling placed her hand beside where Fionn sat, forcing herself to lean closer. Nevertheless, she still wasn’t quite near enough to snag the parchment.

“What will it take to convince you then?” He moved further into her, the tip of his nose near brushing hers as he tilted his head down. His chest rising and falling in great breaths.

“It wouldn’t be a true victory if I merely gave you the answers, Your Lordship.”

“Call me Fionn.”

“Very well, Fionn, you’ve a great task ahead of you.” Aisling inched closer, her lips almost brushing against his. Envelopedin his perfume of northern spices, of wintertide mornings, and frozen lakes.

He closed his eyes, tracing her arm with his fingertips, her shoulder, finding her neck, and pulling in for the kiss.

Their lips met and Aisling’s stomach tossed. Sickened by the cold strangeness of it. When she’d kissed Lir, it’d been realm-shattering. When she’d kissed Dagfin, it’d felt soft, familiar, and kind. Kissing Fionn was uncomfortable. Wholeheartedly wrong. Frigid and stiff. Yet if escaping this prison meant continuing her venture toward Lofgren’s Rise, she found she’d do anything. Including paying the cost of a meager kiss. One without feeling and untethered by heartstrings. A cantrip easily dealt when desperate.

The kiss did the trick. Aisling pushed far enough into Fionn’s embrace to reach and snatch the parchment behind him, slowly drawing it into the folds of her skirt while Fionn was distracted.

At last, it was well hidden, and Aisling tore herself from Fionn, hardly able to endure another moment.

Fionn blinked, registering the sharp contrast with a confused expression.

“I’m exhausted,” Aisling said, leaping to her feet and moving toward the mirror.

“You can rest here,” Fionn said, gesturing to his bed. His silver hair dangling across his flushed face.

Aisling felt a bout of nausea churn inside her stomach, but she stifled it, baring her teeth in a grin instead.

“No, no, it’s best I take my leave and allow you a respite as well.”

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