Page 33 of The Savage Queen

“Or were the murúch another excuse to try and bed her?” Killian flashed a smug smile, thwacked off his face with the edge of Dagfin’s boot.

The otherFaerakblew into the bars before crumpling to the stone, blood spilling from his cracked lip.

“Stop this!” Starn yelled. “Look at where we are. Neither of you will be of any use escaping if you can hardly stand. Aisling can come along if she wishes. If not, she can rot for all I care.”

Dagfin and Killian glared at one another, measuring whether another strike was worth their time.

A snicker erupted just outside their cell.

Each turned to find the pack of wolves spectating their display, mouths split wide, and teeth bared in laughter.

Frigg stepped forward.

“His lordship demands your presence, princes.”

CHAPTER XIII

AISLING

Aisling stepped onto a floating bridge of solid ice. It glittered in the soft light cast by frozen flower bulbs. The pollen at their center imbued with an ivory radiance.

Fae light. An alternative to fire, which the Aos Sí all despised and feared. Their only weakness other than iron. But in Annwyn, such fae light was warm and golden. Here, it was only cold.

Beneath the bridge were thickets of eyebright. A forest of twinkling light, tangling beneath the walkway and powdered in fog.

Yet it was what lay ahead that captured Aisling’s attention and held it. A platform cut from the same ice as all else, crowned by an imperial staircase with a glimmering, sharp dais atop it. Eight colossal columns carved in the image of bears lined the room, each one hunched and carrying the weight of the ornamental ceilings polished with ice. Ice, a bed for the frozen hands that grew from the rafters to claw for the dais below.

Aisling followed Greum over the bridge, carefully placing each step lest she slip.

The bear escorted her up one side of the imperial staircase till she stood before a throne. An ornate seat seemingly carved fromsnow as resplendent as diamonds and surrounded by bowing pines, white with frost.

Several other Sidhe, plated in artful armor, stood around the throne. Their eyes as silver as their lord’s, sharp and upturned, with irises as pale as pearls. A fierceness far outweighing even the wolves that prowled around the base of the throne in defense of he who sat atop it.

The fae king.

Striking, primeval, and inhumanly lovely.

Silver hair sparkling, his greatsword, once sheathed at his waist, now jutted from his throne, watching as Aisling came into view. The fae king crossed his legs and leaned lithely to the side till his head rested in one slender, tattooed hand.

“I could gaze upon you for a lifetime,mo Lúra.” His voice filled the room despite the softness of it. The inherent calm he instilled in a chamber full of feral, forge-brewed creatures. “Wintertide compliments you.”

“You’re Delbaeth,” Aisling said, ignoring the heavy glares of every Aos Sí and beast in the room. “One of the twelve Sidhe sovereigns.”

Indeed, Delbaeth, as Aisling had learned during her time amongst the Aos Sí, was the Sidhe king of ice. Son of Winter, they called him. A greatsword as tall as himself, gifted to him by the Forge, now displayed at the back of his throne.

“No,” he said, amused. “Delbaeth was my father. My name is Fionn. And yours is Aisling.”

A chill crept up Aisling’s spine at the sound of her name on his lips. She considered him, glancing about the room and meeting the eyes of the others for the first time. Something between curiosity and fear flickering across their otherworldly expressions.

“Where are Dagfin and my brothers?” Aisling asked, ignoring his introductions. She bore little patience for those who stoodin her way and a fae king, one with as much reason to either wish harm on Aisling or want the curse breaker as much as anyone else, would stop Aisling or deter her from achieving her ends entirely. Indeed, Aisling knew not what the inter-relations between the Aos Sí were like. Gilrel had mentioned conflict between the courts in passing but never divulged more than a handful of details. A fact which Aisling now cursed.

“How about an exchange,mo Lúra?” Fionn smiled, the edges of his lips curling gently. “I’ll return your brothers and theFaerakin exchange for Lir’s whereabouts.”

Aisling shook her head.

“You ask for information I cannot give. I bear no knowledge of Lir’s whereabouts.”

The Sidhe, Greum, and the wolves all shifted. As though the mere mention of Lir’s name was enough to inspire unease amongst even his own kind.

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