Page 65 of The Savage Queen

Lir shifted, adopting the lethal poise that struck gods’ fear in all that lived and breathed.

“And yet,” he replied, his voice deepening, “if you truly despised me, right now you’d be by my brother’s side or searching for the princeling. Instead, you’re here with me.” He stepped closer, the air no longer cold but stiflingly hot. “The dark,ellwyn, is magic incarnate. When the beasts of the feywild are most alive. A realm ruled by desire and crowned by feral indulgence. The dark is whole, rich, all-encompassing. The dark isfeared. You and I weren’t made for the light,ellwyn. You were left to rot perhaps but seized the shadows and wore them like a hide on your back until you became the feared, and now, the dark is yours to rule.Oursto rule.”

Aisling shook her head, the fists at her sides growing numb with cold, or something else, she wasn’t certain.

“You wish to own me.”

Lir scoffed as though the prospect was ridiculous. “I wish for you to bemine. The two are very different.”

“You think I’m not aware your plans are made in the same image as your brother’s? That you intend to use me to not only obtain the curse breaker but to end all and any threats against your sovereignship? I am not a tool nor a weapon nor an ill-omen. I am my own.”

Lir appraised her, silent before at last speaking.

“Is that what you think? That I believe you a tool?”

“Give me another reason for the absence of your fury?! Why neither you nor your knights have placed my head on a pike for treason? For fleeing from their king? Why else would you come for me when even my túath never did?”

Lir’s expression twisted, his anger at last seeping through.

“You wouldn’t survive my fury,” he said, moving closer till their chests were but a breath from touching. Till Aisling tilted her head entirely back, glaring up and into his eyes.

The forest he’d grown atop the cathedral rose and spread with increased need.

“So where is my wisdom, fae king? And why do I no longer fear you?”

“You should.”

Lir pressed his hands against the wall on either side of her. She could see the rise and fall of his chest, the movement of his throat as he swallowed, and feel the heat of his breath. Roses and five-pointed leaves grew around the wall, creeping into her hair and around her throat. Her arms, her waist, doing what Aisling—just for a moment, a sinful heartbeat—wished Lir did with his hands. Binding her to the wall possessively, as though his prey might flee should he blink.

Aisling closed her eyes, doing her best to banish his spells.

Stay away from the Sidhe king, Aisling.

“You and I were forged for one another,” he said, a breathless whisper scalding her cheeks. “When together, ourdraiochtgrows, spills over the brim of the goblet others sanction to limit our power. To control us.” He lowered one hand, knotting his fingers through Aisling’s. “But when apart, we grow weak, half of the soul we were forged to become.”

“A love unmatched, a reckless ruinous love capable of destroying kingdoms and plaguing the earth. A harbinger ofgreat upheaval and certain death.” Danu’s words at the Isle of Mirrors slithered into Aisling’s mind and around her heart.

His vines gripped her more tightly.

“Try summoning your flames,” he said.

“I cannot. Fionn’s magic dulls my own and I’m not yet powerful enough to withstand it.”

“You’re as powerful as you believe yourself to be, Aisling. Whether you were locked inside an iron fortress, traded to the Sidhe, or captured by Fionn, you have always been powerful enough. You only need want it enough.”

A stone grew in Aisling’s throat, impossible to swallow.

“I want it more than anything.”

“Then summon yourdraiocht.”

Lir lifted their hands, fingers still laced, and parted them. His palm a few inches from her own.

Aisling focused.

In the caverns of herdraiocht, she searched for that familiar beast. To her surprise it moved, slithered to its threshold and glared up at her. Ice cracking and splintering as it defrosted the sleep Fionn had witched inside her. Comforted by the proximity of Lir’s owndraiocht, the thread between them braiding tightly. Humming alive.

His magic was like a wolf, hungry and snarling, excited by the scent of her own. Nuzzling her fury awake and burning through the ice.

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