Page 7 of The Savage Queen

“Is she?” Dagfin challenged, and the question cut through Aisling’s heart. “Is that still how you see her?”

Aisling held her breath, both eager for and dreading her brother’s response, but it never came. The silence clawed at theStarling’s walls, the grinding of bone on wood vibrating through Aisling’s core. So instead of replying, Starn changed the subject.

“If you’re ever to rule the North alongside me, to be a Roktan king, you cannot continue to be so lenient.”

“I won’t try to control her.”

“Your impulsivity, stubbornness, and heart have always gotten the best of you. But it can’t as a ruler, Fin. A sacrificial heart will only ever yield death in a world like this.”

“You may want nothing more than to sit on your father’s throne, Starn, but I can’t imagine anything more soul-sucking than standing behind a fleet instead of fighting with it. Nothing more hopeless than ordering those to do what I can do myself. Making choices that cost a part of my soul, even if for the greater good. You want authority, Starn. Leadership. And you’re good at it. Made for it even. Able to make the hard choices without bowing to the cost of them. Nemed’s favored child. But I can’t and won’t subject Aisling to it.”

Starn exhaled, frustration potent in his breath.

“You can’t outrun your blood nor your duty.”

Silence swelled between them until Aisling wondered if they’d left and she’d missed the sound of boots on floorboards. Now it was Dagfin’s turn to redirect the conversation.

“I’ll ensure there are no more ‘outbursts’ when it comes to Aisling,” Dagfin conceded, his voice rough with lack of sleep.

“This crew may be aware of what she is, but they don’t need reminding of why they despise the fae.”

“If I could take more Ocras, it would be?—”

“Ocras?” Starn repeated. “Do you have any Ocras left?”

“Enough,” Dagfin replied without hesitation.

“Fin, don’t exchange one demon for another. If?—”

“Enough with your lectures. This isn’t the same. The Ocras will be the difference between what keeps us alive and what doesn’t.”

Starn exhaled.

“Let me stand guard tonight,” her brother offered. Indeed, the brothers began their journey rotating their night watch of Aisling but slowly, Dagfin took on each of their shifts. This despite most, mortal or fae, wanted Aisling dead. “You can’t continue this way, Fin.”

“I’m fine,” he assured, but Aisling wasn’t convinced, and she didn’t believe Starn was either.

At last, footsteps beat against theStarling’s floors, fading as they turned down the corridor. It was only a handful of seconds later that Aisling’s door clicked open.

“You’re awake,” Dagfin said, relief sweeping his expression. His hair was unruly, and his eyes dark-washed with familiar exhaustion. He closed the door behind him.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Aisling nodded her head in place of a lie, concealing her hands between the folds of wool.

She shoved the fresh memory of Starn’s words to the side, boiling her blood till she felt like a kettle whistling with heat.

“Good. Nightmares enjoy the open sea.” And although Aisling knew he spoke of Lir, unable to utter his name aloud, Aisling only thought of herself.

“Is that what I am?” she asked sincerely. “A nightmare?”

But Dagfin hesitated, searching for the words as he paused beside her bed. Was she a demon? A monster cast by the blood of the Forge? The questions lingered between them. None knew what she was nor would be. None knew what enchantments had bespelled her being. Only Lofgren’s Rise bore any hope of answering those questions. Questions which branded Aisling’s mind and fought for attention every hour of the day.

“You’re Aisling,” he said. He crouched beside where she lay and ran his fingers through her tangled tresses. She’d taught Dagfin how to braid hair when they were children. When she needed to pin back her mane to better run through Tilren’s alleys. When he’d called her name repeatedly, searching for her. And rarely, if ever, did he find her lest she wished for him to.

“Do you remember the tale of Odhran and the Weight of the Night?” he asked.

Aisling closed her eyes, remembering but feigning ignorance so he’d tell it again.

---