Page 47 of The Savage Queen

CHAPTER XVII

LIR

The Sidhe king of the greenwood grew a wych elm in the cloister his room overlooked.

The badgers passing by screamed, racing for the nearest escape as Castle Oighir’s stone crumbled at the base of Lir’s tree and tossed debris.

Lir took another bite of apple, amused. Just as he’d suspected, hisdraiochthad grown more powerful.

“Was that necessary?” Filverel said in Rún from behind.

“No, but I enjoyed it,” Lir replied, switching tongues effortlessly as if both were his mother tongue. A product of the ages.

Filverel sighed, pouring himself a glass of Sidhe wine from a decanter before reclining in a chair draped with silver furs.

“You’re reckless when you become obsessive.”

“Fionn could use some redecorating,” Lir said, gesturing to the newly grown tree. An emerald in a drawer of pearls and glassy crystals.

Indeed, Lir’s chamber was all ivory and silver. Plush velvets, animal skins, shimmering snowflakes dangling from the ceilings overtaken by roots wrapped in ice, and a fireplace polished with frost.

Lir disliked Oighir and Fjallnorr as a whole. It was endless cold, frigid, and stiff. A land where lakes didn’t ripple, trees didn’t dance, and beasts hid in hollows or slumbered all together.

“Remind me then, why we’re here. We could be halfway to Lofgren’s Rise by now, one of our competitors stalled by your brother.” Filverel set his chalice down. His moonstone eyes studying the glacial embrace of Lir’s quarters with disdain. “And that’s excluding the reckless gamble you made of your axes.”

“I made a vow the night of our union,” Lir said, tossing his apple idly with one hand and slipping the other into his pocket.

“This is one vow I’d be grateful for you to break, considering the consequences of keeping it far outweigh those of breaking it.”

“I won’t live another day apart from her.”

“Because she’s the key to complete authority over the realm? Because her proximity strengthens yourdraiocht? Because she’s a tool and a weapon to be wielded? There are other ways of establishing monopoly, Lir. Racat, for one, is at our disposal. Danu fears thedragúnand humankind will quiver in his presence. And if it’s a queen you want, Peitho is more than willing. We—you don’t need Aisling.”

Lir met Filverel’s eyes but didn’t respond. The brush of morning winds, cooling the heat wrapping around Lir’s heart in violet fire, bound to someday burn it entirely.

Filverel exhaled, resisting the urge to spew his objections, of which he had many.

“Fionn’s tests begin tomorrow evening,” Lir said, glad to change the subject. “And knowing Fionn, he’ll spare no opportunity to spill my blood nor humiliate the greenwood.”

“Considering Oighir’s tradition of such tests, it’s possible he’ll design it in the same breath as his father, Delbaeth.”Filverel took another sip of wine. “Fionn declined a duel in favor of a test for a reason.”

“Because he knew a loss dealt by my hands was both inevitable and obvious?” Lir asked, the image of a fox.

“In part. But he also wishes to make a spectacle and correct the past.”

Lir leaned a shoulder against the wall, crossing his legs at his ankles as he continued to bite his apple.

“A wish in vain. The court of the greenwood will best Oighir once more.”

“You’re overly confident. You shouldn’t underestimate Fionn.”

“Underestimate? I’ve valued his worth and find it lacking.”

Lir rested his head against the wall, turning to look out the window. Down below, Aisling and a great armored bear emerged and passed through the cloister.

Lir paused, his body moving to face the window against his own volition. Heart thrashing till he bore half a mind to rip it from his chest to stop its intolerable aching.

Aisling was a forbidden spell. A prayer cast from the lips of the truly desperate, those ignorant to the weight of such shadowed magic. A spell Lir found himself unable to resist, considering it again and again, wondering if this time, he might bear the courage to cast it himself. To feel the supple curves of her dark femininity and memorize them.

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