Page 39 of The Savage Queen

“Dragún?” Aisling repeated.

“Rún for dragons,” Fionn explained. “Thedragúnof immortality, thedragúnof power, and thedragúnof prosperity. Legend has it, any Sidhe sovereign capable of taming such beasts or dominating them would be blessed with its strength and ability. So, naturally, the Wild Hunt ensued. A trail of blood, destruction, disease, and war left in its wake. The only Sidhe sovereign to obtain adragún? Ina.”

Lir’s mother.

Fionn was near enough that he could touch her, but refrained, pouring himself a chalice of Sidhe wine instead as he continued to pursue her around the curve of the table.

“The other twodragúnswere never caught, so the original twelve Sidhe sovereigns battled over Racat instead. Thedragúnof power.”

Aisling froze.

Racat.

Thedraiochtinside her stirred.

She knew this beast. Had come face to face with it in the cloak of darkness, unable to see beyond the glimmering of its eyes as it prowled toward her in Annwyn’s aqueducts. After Danu had tossed her forward in time. A monster said to live in Annwyn’s gorge and travel in the waterways beneath the earth.

“You may call me friend.”

Its voice slithered inside her mind.

“You’ve heard of thisdragún?” Fionn asked, watching her behind the brim of his chalice.

Aisling masked her emotions and shook her head, careful to conceal all that Fionn didn’t already know thanks to his mirrors.

“I assume Ina didn’t manage to keep Racat? This considering she would’ve adopted Racat’s power and blessed Iod, a strength that never would’ve allowed for Iod to crumble and the curse to take hold,” Aisling said, eager to avoid his question.

“Yes and no. She won the Wild Hunt thanks to Racat but lost regardless. Her efforts to keep Bres alive rendered whatever victory she’d managed obsolete. A mistake—afailurethat even Racat’s blessing couldn’t remedy.” Fionn’s tone was bitter, Bres’s name on his lips like poison.

“So, Bres’s life was threatened after the Wild Hunt? What war was ensuing in the aftermath of Ina’s victory?”

“One of envy,” Fionn said, pressing his lips into a firm line. He wished to elaborate no further, that much was evident, leaving Aisling to assume the other fae sovereigns were envious of Ina’s victory and Racat.

So, this was how it’d happened.

The war that defeated Bres, Lir’s father, was one Aisling had heard of before. Yet never had any divulged the reason for inter-conflict between the fair folk.

Now it was clear. This was the period where Ina forsook her own mountain kingdom of Iod to save Bres, failing and dooming her people as a result. Cursing them and stripping them of theirimmortality,power, andprosperityto damn them as mortal.

All this, from a war bred by envy and a hunt for dragons.

“What happened to Racat?”

Fionn took another sip.

“Ina gifted the beast to her son for safekeeping. That is, until the time came for thedragúnto make a choice of its own.”

Aisling paused.

Lir was the most powerful Sidhe sovereign in this realm or the next. Born of two original Sidhe sovereigns but also imbued with the power and blessing of Racat.

Aisling’s mind spun. Fionn had told her more than anyone else ever had. As far as she knew, not a secret was left unturned nor withheld from her.

“Lir came to power and instilled obedience in every other Sidhe kingdom and Unseelie race to prevent another Wild Hunt or ensuing war. His punishment for Oighir? Lir ensured Oighir is only ever powerful when the frost arrives and chills the earth. Only when winter is nigh can I flex my strength, imprisoned by the edge of the northernmost continents. Exiled lest we be powerless. And so, I’ll cling to whatever power the Forge gives me if it means avenging my father’s death. Another casualty of thedragúnwar.”

Fionn handed Aisling his chalice, at last, catching her.

Aisling considered it, repeating the warnings in her mind. She’d only ever known Sidhe wine to be dangerous, lethal, and incompatible with mortal tongues. Yet, if she could eat their foods perhaps…perhaps one drink wouldn’t hurt.

---