Page 43 of The Savage Queen

Fionn and Greum led her to the front of the imperial staircase.

From here, the whole ballroom was laid before them both. And with one snap of the fae king’s fingers, everyone in the halldissolved into silence—even the spirits—holding their breath to discover, at last, what their lord whispered into the Forge.

“Tonight, fate will continue its course,” Fionn said. “Tonight, with the blessing of the Forge, Aisling and I will be truly bonded.”

Aisling stiffened but said not a word, refusing the temptation to find Dagfin through the folds of spectators. The Roktan prince’s expression was perhaps one of the only images capable of convincing her to step away from the ledge she now peered over.

“This will be a promise for the future that the son of Winter and his sorceress shall lead the Seelie, the Unseelie, and the mortals too,” he continued. “And so, I call upon the Lady to sever the threads that lie between Aisling and the king of the greenwood.”

Aisling staggered back a step, knocked off balance in her shock.

“What?” she managed, but he ignored her.

“Rlaoim ont a Lhuire, tar anoir,” he said in Rún.

Greum translated, “I summon you, Lady, to do your bidding.”

Aisling paled, her breathing heavy. Fionn had rescued Aisling and Dagfin from the Lady, his scheming swift and meddling if now he called upon her, Aisling realized.

No, no, no. This wasn’t happening.

“You’ve tricked me,” Aisling seethed, watching as Fionn turned to her coolly. “You claimed this was merely a celebration. No union nor deal had yet to be agreed upon and there was never a mention of anunbinding.”

Fionn’s lips cut into a knife-sharp smile. “Come now, Aisling. You didn’t really think I’d risk your neck on a union knowing we aren’tcaera? No, I only ever saidbinding. To have the Lady ripthe threads between you and Lir and tie them anew with you and me. Besides I grow impatient.”

“We had a deal! I had till the end ofSamhainto release the mortal princes in exchange for whatever it is you covet!”

“Your mortal princes will be released once we’re united, Aisling. No sooner or later.”

Aisling’s tongue turned to ash. Her mind spun till she believed she might vomit. But it wasn’t only her mind that spun. The room tilted on its axis, every star the spirits had gathered whirling madly as light broke across the room and the Lady appeared, dressed in a star-bright gown of countless radiant threads. Spiraling around her like the rays of a star exploding just before it collided with the Earth.

The Lady stood before them, the spirits hovering around her in a cloud of ages-old ghosts come to see the unraveling of the morrow.

She smiled. “Aisling, I didn’t believe I’d see you again so soon.”

Fionn waved his hand flippantly and ice grew from the ballroom floors, seizing Aisling’s wrists and squeezing till she couldn’t move. Her mask clattered against the floor as Aisling screamed for thedraiocht, but it was frozen inside the abyss. Snuffed and cold, unable to produce the fires she needed. But this was beyond the weakness she’d felt the past several weeks. Beyond the burning of her palms. This was the same witchery she’d tasted against the fear gorta when it’d snuffed her fires.

This was the Lady’s and Fionn’s magic, dampening her might with their own trickery. Finding a way to strangle herdraiocht. Both having tasted her arrival on winter winds the moment she’d step foot on Fjallnorrian sands.

From the corner of her eye, Aisling saw Dagfin struggling forward, held back by Killian, Starn, Fergus, and Iarbonel.

“Hold still, Aisling,” the Lady continued, producing a glimmering blade of starlight from thin air. She inhaled deeply, as though savoring thedraiochtshe breathed, producing such powerful magic. The taste of liquid evening skies bleeding across Aisling’s tongue at the arrival of the Lady’sdraiocht. “Samhaincouldn’t have come soon enough. You see, Aisling, the stars have aligned. The Otherworld is thin, renewing my strength and inspiring my influence in this realm. With it, enough power to do what I couldn’t the last time I saw you.”

“No,” Aisling said, struggling against Fionn’s ice, Oighir’s Sidhe court witnessing the spectacle with a combination of fear, confusion, and awe. With a satisfying feeling of finality for the thief to at last be stolen from.

“Don’t look so afraid,mo Lúra,” Fionn whispered in her ear. “The pain will be temporary but the life we’ll live together, mighty and everlasting.”

The Lady approached, the spirits cackling behind her.

“The gods will rejoice that the omen is broken and destruction, desolation, death, circumvented.”

“Yet you commit a death today!” Aisling screamed, hot tears streaming down her face as she fought against Fionn’s ice, clawing at thedraiocht. For the tearing of her binding with Lir, the thread that made themcaera, was a death.

Wake up.

Wake up.

Wake up! she screamed at thedraiocht.

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