Page 108 of The Savage Queen

Dagfin shifted, doing his best to conceal his surprise. The fae were silent, stealthy, and weightless upon the forest floor.

Peitho stood a few paces away, approaching as lithe as a cat. Her blade sheathed at her back. Hands empty. Seemingly uninterested in physical conflict with theFaerak. Still, he held his breath when near her. When she walked too close to Aisling,eyeing the twitch of Peitho’s fingers. Memorizing where she hid her blade whilst she slept.

“I’m keeping watch, lest there be another ambush.”

“Ah, is that it?” Peitho said. “Do you normally keep watch by glaring solely at a dark-haired maiden?”

Dagfin cleared his throat, crossing his arms.

“Tell me, fleshling, why are you here?”

“I already told you. I’m keeping watch.”

“No,” she said. “Why have you journeyed this far with her?”

“I could ask the same of you,” Dagfin replied.

Peitho squinted but nodded her head in understanding. She tipped her chin at the river where Lir and Galad emerged, having bathed away the blood, dirt, smoke, and snow from the past several days. They approached the shore, Lir finding Aisling’s eyes as he exited. And as it always did each time Dagfin witnessed these exchanges, his heart sunk. The way their eyes connected across an expanse or when nearby. The way the world paused whenever they did so, holding its breath.

“It appears we both find ourselves unrequited,” Peitho said, her voice as broken as Dagfin felt. “It’s an unfortunate thing to find yourself on the periphery of a legend. The tales won’t speak of us. Only them,” she said, jealousy a Cornelian shade of orange behind her lashes.

“And yet you risk your life, aiding the one who rejected you.”

“And you she.” Peitho frowned, leaning against a nearby birch.

“Aisling hasn’t rejected me.” Dagfin knew Aisling felt for him at least a semblance of what he felt for her. He witnessed it time and time again, in her touch, her care, her wandering glances. And when everything was said and done. When Aisling found whatever she craved at Lofgren’s rise, Dagfin would wait a lifetime for Aisling to recognize therightnessof their pairing. That she made him brave and he made her good.

Peitho ignored him. “My only hope is that Lir finds himself at odds with his not-so-mortal queen in their pursuit of the curse breaker and whatever else lies at this godsforsaken summit. And if that’s the case, Lir will act accordingly. For Annwyn.”

“Are you certain of that?” Dagfin challenged.

“I’ve known Lir for centuries and if I know anything about him, it’s that Lir is motivated by two things: Annwyn and his fear of repeating his mother’s mistakes.”

“Motivation is only so potent until combined with awant,” Dagfin said. “What does Lir want?”

Peitho paused, thinking to herself and recognition dawning.

Aisling swung the blade by the shoreline, her hands suddenly overcome with rare violets. She smiled, glancing over her shoulder at Lir, still dressing himself, and grinning at his mischief. His sorrow the past several days eclipsed by his renewed, easy arrogance. This despite the angry scars scratched beside his shoulder blades.

“Hope is a damnable thing,” Dagfin said. “For it is almost always false.”

AISLING

Welcome are those of breath,

My children, pardoned by death.

Enter and find in my keep a sanctuary

For all those whose blood runs faerie.

A colossal arch stood before them. The entrance to Lofgren’s Rise.

Aisling wasn’t certain what she’d expected, but it certainly hadn’t been a behemoth of a fae city, interlaced with the highest, snow-capped mountains in Fjallnorr. A threshold presaged by giant statues in the image of winged Aos Sí, holding the scroll of entrance before them as well as a mighty cauldron.

“This is Iod,” Aisling said breathlessly. All this time, Lofgren’s Rise was inside Iod. Aisling shook her head, weighing the importance of the ground she trod. A kingdom lost to both a curse and time. One that presaged her own birth and that of all humankind. A place of legends, of myths, of songs sung around campfires, and hummed at dawn. All before her, whittled into stone giants and forsaken by a ruinous love.

The group approached cautiously.

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