Page 54 of The Savage Queen

Aisling shot him a scowl over her shoulder, but Fionn’s smile only brightened.

The crowd boomed. Lir, at last, finding his footing atop the wolf’s head even as the hound threw its head from side to side, desperate to toss Lir off. An opportunity arising when the wolf slumped against the ground. Yet Lir stood astride, at last releasing his axe from the beast’s skull.

“Why didn’t he leap off?!” Aisling asked.

“He will.” Dagfin joined her at the railing. “But like I said, he’s biding his time. Every attack from either the hawk or serpent has been reckless, their eagerness to strike making them sloppy. He’s using that against them.”

This time, Lir didn’t plunge his axe into the wolf’s skull again. He waited, watching as the hawk and the serpent lunged for him atop the wolf. Beak and fangs first, they struck the wolf head instead, blood spewing and a pained whimper erupting, loud enough to rupture Aisling’s ear drums. Lir leaped off the monster in the same breath, several stories above the ground. Too high for a normal Sidhe, impossible for a mortal.

Aisling wrenched her eyes shut on instinct, her heart in her throat. Peeking only at the sound of mass cheers and Gilrel’s hollering from the side. Lir landed like a feline, absorbing the impact with more rolls than usual before springing to his feet, both blades in hand, now soaked with blood.

The wolf’s head was felled by its other two heads. Both the snake and hawk turned to Lir, furious, but the weight of the wolf dragging against the snow made them slow and sluggish. Unable to reach Lir as he raced to the other end of the arena where Aisling and Fionn sat. The beast followed him, nipping at his heels and roaring with increased need.

Lir slid before the box and leaped onto the railing. Fionn’s guards immediately started forward, weapons poised to strike.

“There’s still a test to be won, Lir,” Fionn scolded from his chair, eyes shooting to the monster approaching. “The beast won’t hurt a soul outside the arena but it definitely won’t hesitate to kill you even if your back is turned.”

“Lir, what are you doing?!” Aisling shouted, staggering back a few paces.

Lir ignored Fionn, crouching on the railing and finding Aisling’s eyes.

“I need a kiss for good luck.”

Aisling shook her head, baffled, the monster picking up speed and defeating the distance between it and Lir.

“Don’t be a fool, brother,” Fionn chimed.

“Are you mad?!” Aisling asked, heart in her throat.

“So claim the legends,” he said, as calm as if he were anywhere else but the arena.

“You don’t have time for this!”

“So kiss me quick.” Lir grinned, pushing his hair away from his forehead and out of glittering eyes. His dimples framing the wicked edge of his smile.

Aisling glanced at the beast a few breaths behind Lir. The two heads preparing their maws to bite down and tear apart the Sidhe king. So, Aisling lunged forward and rose on her tiptoes, finding Lir’s mouth and pressing it to her own. Behind her, Aisling could feel both Fionn and Dagfin bristling, the world shaking violently either by the creature a few paces from crushing Lir to death or their kiss, she was uncertain. Only that he tasted of woodland secrets, of ragged breaths between lovers, and ink-black nights. Her body thrummed with heat and need despite the tightening of the collar at her throat. Immediately, Lir noticed the strain at her neck and released a quiet, instinctual groan against her lips, seemingly forcing himself to pull away a beat before death, turning and throwing his blades in one clean sweep.

The edge of his axes punctured both the serpent and hawk, blinding the serpent entirely while leaving only one eye seeing in the hawk. So, Lir leaped down from the railing and sliced at the serpent’s throat while it writhed, leaning close enough to the ground. The hawk, however, still stood rather strong, biting at Lir without pause.

He struck the beast in the skull but this time, Lir didn’t let the monster reel. Made vulnerable, he held the behemoth down with all the strength of a Sidhe king as it made sense of the pain, the chaos, Lir roaring as he did so, moving his left blade swiftly so as not to lose his hold. The second axe sliced into the hawk’s second eye, blinding the final beast before Lir wrenched both blades from its body and hammered them down into the hawk’s skull.

There was quiet.

A silence so thick, every snowflake falling from the gray-clad skies descended more slowly, rummaging through the muck of anticipation.

Aisling’s pulse pounded in her ears. Rushed at her throat. Her body cold and rigid, bracing the banister for dear life. Until, at last, the light faded from the hawk’s eyes.

Lir had won.

Fionn stood slowly from his throne, arranging his robes as Lir approached their box. The spectators still shouting, shaking the entire arena with their excitement. The body of the Ellén Trechend now blanketed in a layer of snow.

And despite the first test being over, Aisling’s hands couldn’t release the railing. The intangible cord between she and Lir growing taut the nearer he drew. Her stomach flipping and her lips burning where the memory of his mouth against her own lingered. He was arrogance personified, blood-splattered and sweat glistened, flipping his blades back into the sheathes at his back.

“Well done, brother.” Fionn clapped. “You had us on the edge of our seats.”

“I had to ensure Aisling was paying attention.” Lir’s grin widened, roguish and punctuated by knee-weakening fangs.

Dagfin shifted beside Aisling, but Fionn found the fae king’s comments less than amusing.

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