Page 76 of The Savage Queen

“The magic will take when it deems fit. It doesn’t need anyone or anything to do its bidding.”

Peitho seethed, baring her fangs and tightening her grip on the haft of her blade.

“Very well, then I’ll make it so he begs for thedraiochtto reap what it’s due.”

Peitho lifted the sword.

Dagfin cursed under his breath, searching for an escape. A way to free himself from her strength. Fionn’s blade strapped to theFaerak’s back beneath him. So, Aisling inhaled. Just as she always did before she summoned her flames.

“Do not interrupt,” the pines whispered to Lir, clicking their branches together. “It’s not wise to meddle in the affairs of the Forge. The forest knows.”

Lir didn’t need the reminder. Yet should he do or say nothing, with what strength Aisling still harbored, she’d set them all aflame, the forest included. And although he’d enjoy nothing more than to witness the mortal prince’s life reaped, when that blessed day arrived, it would be his axes cleaving theFaerak’s body and soul, and not another’s blade.

“Release him,” Lir said, ignoring the surrounding evergreens.

They each froze, his voice commanding acquiescence as he approached.

“You can’t possibly—” Filverel began but was quickly silenced by Lir’s glance.

“Let him flee into the feywilds. Without his Ocras, he won’t survive long.”

Hopefully, Lir thought to himself.

Galad, Filverel, Peitho, and Gilrel exchanged glances, but none said a word.

Peitho, grumbling under her breath, at last, complied and freed Dagfin from the stones.

He stood, his knuckles bruised and bloody where they’d collided with Peitho’s face, leaving an equally angry mark on the princess of Niltaor.

“Forge be with you on your travels,Faerak,” Gilrel said as she crossed her arms and paws.

Yet the Roktan prince didn’t flee nor wilt, planting his feet in the snow instead.

“I’m coming with you,” Dagfin said.

Lir bit down his annoyance, scraping his bottom lip with his fangs.

“No,” Lir said, starting for the trees.

“It wasn’t a question.”

“Nor is it an option,” Lir growled.

“Aisling ne?—”

At the sound of Aisling’s name on his lips, Lir paused, interrupting theFaerakbefore he could say another word.

“Every breath you withhold from what you owe is a breath you jeopardize the lives of those around you. Thedraiochtis searching, waiting, hunting you, and duringSamhain, your chances of survival are slim if none,” Lir growled. “Return to your mortal haven. You’ve done enough, princeling.”

A wise man would’ve obeyed the Sidhe king and taken his leave. A wise man couldn’t imagine all the ways Lir could maim and artfully torture them, but the suggestion alone would set them racing.

Instead, Dagfin scoffed, knocking them all off guard. A sound that tightened the curve of Lir’s shoulders and inspired unique rage.

And yet, theFaerakgambled his life further. “I’ve brought Aisling this far, what have you done, fae?”

Stilling, the forest held its breath, anticipating the Sidhe king’s reaction.

Lir grinned, fangs glinting beneath a winter sun. The consequences of, at last, slaughtering theFaerakgrowing less and less potent in comparison to the unadulterated satisfaction he’d glean from bleeding him dry. Aisling already loathed Lir and so, there was little else to lose. Yet still, Aisling’s presence was theFaerak’s last and only saving grace.

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