Page 14 of The Savage Queen

“Why do you still hunt me?”

Lir’s expression softened. “Because I have no choice.”

“Because you made a promise?”

By the blood of the Forge, I vow to you the first taste of my blood, the first cut of my heart, and the last words from my lips.

A heart for a heart.

“You and I are bound by the Forge, by fate, by need.” His eyes fixed on her own. “Describe it however you like. Your soul speaks to my own.”

The fae king moved to stand beside her, their arms mere breaths from touching. Yet his touch was exactly what would toss her back to reality and out of their dreams. She, forced to smell him, feel him, look at him, but never touch him lest their phantom world vanish like mist blown by the wind.

“Do you believe what we both covet rests at Lofgren’s Rise?”

Lir considered for a moment, eyeing the waterfall with renewed interest.

“Yes.”

“And should they conflict? Should whatever we find at Lofgren’s Rise destroy either of our ambitions at the cost of the other?”

Lir slipped his hands into his pockets.

“The mortals, your father, cannot find the curse breaker,” he said, moving to stand beside her. “The gods took it and do not take kindly to being taken from. What the mortals have lost shall stay lost, so I’ll stop at nothing to ensure the fire hand never obtains the curse breaker for himself. And if that means preventing you from finding the truth of what you are, then so be it.”

Aisling felt the rage before she saw it. Anger traveled through her bones and opened a door for thedraiochtto burst through. Clambering from its abyss and lighting the fae king in flames of radiant amethyst.

Aisling staggered back, satisfaction and horror warring within her. Impressed with herself and at once heart-stricken atthe sight of Lir wrapped in flame. The fair folk’s only weakness other than iron.

“Well done, little thief.” Lir appraised himself, assessing the licks of violet encasing him. Unharmed, hardly phased, seemingly immune to her fire in his world of dreams. “You never cease to impress me.”

“I lost control.”

“Control, Aisling, is a word meant to bridle your strength. To ensure you never fulfill your potential.” Lir stepped closer, the natural world crawling toward Aisling from the surrounding forest and clawing up her boots, her skirts, and her cloak, knotting themselves in her hair.

Lir tilted his head down, his breath sinking between her lips. “Don’t let them domesticate you, Aisling. Don’t let them starve your wolf. Bare your teeth and refuse to be leashed.”

And just before their lips came together, reality dipped its hand into their pool of dreams and yanked her out.

CHAPTER VII

DAGFIN

If the Sidhe never existed, Dagfin would’ve ruled Roktling alongside Aisling. A thought that haunted the Roktan prince throughout day and night alike.

Aisling was fearless, unafraid of pursuing whatever it was she wanted. Dagfin needed her resolve, her courage, and maybe then, had everything worked out differently, he could’ve accepted the crown with Aisling by his side.

And now, after the murúch, Dagfin would be forever possessed by regret. Regret that he hadn’t harbored the courage to kiss Aisling of his own accord, and regret that the murúch had forced the act. Nevertheless, he was enraptured by the taste of her. The feeling of her in his arms.

Dagfin pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” Dagfin said.

Killian stepped into his quarters. Dagfin’s room was flush with dark blue velvet, bronze embroidered stars, hanging lanterns, and Centari rugs from the mortal kingdoms in the south. A half-finished chess match was strewn across his bed while maps, quills, and three compasses were tossed about the desk at which he sat.

“How many?” Dagfin asked, reaching for a quill and parchment.

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