Aisling placed her fingertips against the mirror, ready to dive into it before Fionn noticed the parchment was missing.
“Wait. Aisling.”
Aisling cursed her name.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice painfully genuine. “You won’t regret giving me the chance to prove myself or Oighir’s worth. The entire realm will be better for it.”
Aisling didn’t look back before she dove into the mirror. Swallowing all that’d just unraveled, darting through Castle Oighir and back to her chambers.
The journey back to her rooms was longer than Aisling expected. This, in part, because she’d materialized outside the wrong mirror, on the opposite side of Oighir than she’d intended.
Aisling sped down the corridors, avoiding meeting any of the servants’ or guards’ lingering glares. Aisling had never traversed these passages alone. She’d always been accompanied by either Greum, Frigg, or Fionn himself, and so, her solitude was enough to draw suspicion.
Aisling lifted her chin, feigning confidence as she rushed across bridges, down spiraling staircases, and to the east wing where her rooms were nestled.
That was, until someone or something grabbed Aisling.
Aisling stifled the urge to scream, squirming against her captor. A hand over her mouth and another wrapped around her waist, pressing the back of her body against the firm edge of someone much taller than herself.
Then Aisling smelled him. Wet leaves, rain-steeped earth, cypress needles, and smoke.
Aisling’s stomach dropped. Her mind emptied as she beheld him, a fireside tale brought to life before her. The past they’d lived together now more dream than reality. Seeing him from afar had been startling enough but so close, held by him, near wrenched Aisling’s heart from her chest.
“Ssshh,” Lir whispered against her ear, his breath hot against her skin. Aisling could’ve rolled her eyes back at thepure pleasure of it. The sound of his voice, thick and rough, thrumming through her core.
A Sidhe sentinel passed by then, gaze focused ahead and uninterested in the shadowy alcove Lir had drawn them both into.
“You’ve gathered suspicion traversing the castle alone,” Lir said once they were out of ear shot.
Aisling wrenched herself free from his grip, turning to face him. But even as she made to build the distance between them, Lir brought her closer, keeping her in the shadows.
Aisling’s heart hammered against her chest. Unable to swallow, to blink for the blinding light of his verdant gaze studying her. No memory, no dream, no vision, did the fae king justice. Lir was otherworldly defined, the dark hue of his windswept hair dyed by hands of midnight. The magic aura of him, blending seamlessly with her own and defrosting the cold that gripped herdraiocht, morsel by morsel. As violently lovely as he was elegant and wild. His touch burning through Aisling’s flesh.
“You can’t be here—Ishouldn’t be here,” Aisling whispered, her breathing uneven. “If anyone discovers we’ve spoken, much less?—”
“Much less what,ellwyn?” He grinned, a beam capable of unraveling Aisling where she stood, forgoing reason in favor of whatever pleasure the glint in his eyes promised. The memory of their kiss at the arena heating the air between them. And the fear he’d ask for another, more frightening to Aisling than any other beast.
“Why do you call me that?”
“Ellwyn?”
Aisling nodded.
“After we reach Lofgren’s Rise, return with me to Annwyn and I’ll show you.”
Aisling bristled, shaking her head.
“You’re risking everything! Fionn will dissolve the test and you’ll have forfeited a victory if he discovers you’ve spoken with me.”
Yet despite the tone of her voice, Lir’s eyes flashed brilliantly, his smile descending into something far more wolfish.
“So, you want me to win. Perhaps I already have then.”
Aisling bristled.
“You’re the key to my prison and no more.”
“All I’m hearing is that I’m your salvation,ellwyn.”