Page 56 of The Savage Queen

Aisling swiftly sat on Fionn’s bed, heart racing as the son of Winter materialized from the other side of the mirror.

“You’re here early.”

“You summoned me.”

Fionn shrugged, approaching. “I didn’t imagine you’d come so willingly.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Aisling said, smoothing her words into mulled wine.

“You’re my—” he hesitated for the first time, tripping on his own thoughts.

“Prisoner?”

He frowned, the jeweled collar around Aisling’s throat sparkling as though in triumph.

“I don’t want you to be. I want you to choose to be here of your own free will.”

“Yet this collar speaks otherwise, as well as my inability to wield mydraiocht.”

Fionn stood before where she sat on the bed, impossibly tall and dressed in the same silver as his hair.

“The collar is a product of the deal struck between Lir and me. As for yourdraiocht, I haven’t shackled it. Merely dulled it.”

Aisling blinked before checking the abyss within where herdraiochtlived in the shadows. Still, it was frozen, locked inside its cavern and waiting to break loose. Chilled to the bone.

“It’s been frozen, unable to either be woken or be wielded,” Aisling insisted, hand at her heart as though pawing for a sign of thedraiocht’s life.

“The moment I sensed you stepping onto Fjallnorrian land, I coaxed it asleep for the time being.”

“You were responsible for the fear gorta?” Aisling asked, a shudder creeping up her spine. Remembering the way the fear gorta had dulled her magic.

“It would’ve attacked regardless, but I used its hunger to my advantage.”

Aisling swallowed her anger, realizing an outburst against a captor who wanted her compliance was both unwise and uncunning. She’d find a way out of his spells and collar alike in due time.

“How is it you can steal mydraiochtso?” Aisling asked, clearing her throat.

“As much as I’d love to boast such power as to limit your own,mo Lúra, I cannot steal yourdraiocht. Not without aid from a greater magic source of which, currently, I have none. I merely put it to sleep for the time being. For obvious reasons.”

“A magic source like Racat?”

Fionn smiled bitterly.

“Aye, like Racat.”

“Yet whatever spell you’ve cast to daze mydraiocht, the Lady has used as well.”

Fionn met Aisling’s eyes, silver orbs twinkling with interest. Aisling damned the words, for clearly Fionn hadn’t known this.

“The Lady wields many spells. Far more powerful than my own. She’s been watching you far longer than you’ve known her name. Every step toward Fjallnorr is a step closer to the Lady. Her urgency to prevent you from reaching Lofgren’s Rise, increasing by the hour.”

Aisling bit her bottom lip. She hadn’t realized the full extent of the Lady’s ambitions. The Lady hadn’t lied; she’d stop at nothing to tear Aisling and Lir apart. Yet Aisling needed Lir to escape Oighir.

“So why is it that my magic cannot awaken if you boast no such power? Surely your sleeping spell could be shattered with enough inspiration.”

Fionn sat beside her, closer to the tray of potions than Aisling. Still, Aisling was merely an arm’s length away from grabbing the potion parchment and pocketing it.

“Oighir and the north of Fjallnorr are potent with ice magic. It’s possible, yourdraiochtis still young, not yet challenged with such witchery and so frozen until truly needed. The more powerful you become at my side, the easier it’ll be to summon your power even despite the cold and sleep alike.”

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