Page 8 of The Savage Queen

“Odhran was forged in a cauldron of churning sun, destined to heat our realm come summer solstice and vanish at the autumn equinox. But when Nefae, maiden of stars, perished after a duel with Lora, mistress of midnight, the night dripped from the sky, threatening to flood the entire realm in evening. So, Odhran ignored his destiny and his making, catching the night sky before it dissolved entirely and swung it onto his shoulders. The sun called Odhran home every summer, the voice vanishing come autumn, but Odhran couldn’t move lest the night collapse. Forced to carry the weight of the night till the end of time.

“Some believe he found his way home, solved the burden of the night sky, and returned. Others believe he’s still there, watching us from up above. But even if he cannot return, legendhas it his constellation lights a path home for those weary and lost: a true passage home.”

If Aisling never opened her eyes, she could pretend they were hiding beneath her covers in Castle Neimedh as children, whispering stories till dawn arrived on the golden chariot. But this peace, this taste of a home, was something she could never return to. Even if she followed Odhran’s constellation.

“You need to rest,” she replied, catching his hand and holding it against her face.

His expression muddled the moment their skin met. Shoulders slackening. Eyes flickering despite the dark circles haloing his eyes like fog. Since the day of the ambush, Aisling couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept more than a handful of hours.

“I’ll be good as new by morning.”

“Fin, let my brothers stand guard. Or allow me to?—”

“No.” The word spun silence into the air, string unspooling from its bobbin. His body went rigid, forcing himself to pull away.

“You don’t trust them.” These were words Aisling knew neither she nor Dagfin wished to speak into existence but bred flames of suspicion, nevertheless.

“Do you?”

Aisling considered. The image of Galad’s branding flashed across her mind’s eye against her own volition. She thought of how her brothers’ eyes betrayed them—flecked with fear and lack of recognition for their only sister.

“Truthfully, no. Yet not one of my brothers has ever laid a hand on me nor threatened me with a weapon. And yet you have.”

Dagfin hung his head. Indeed, Dagfin had used an iron bolo to quiet Aisling’s flames and detain her, scalding her skin andrendering her diminished of all power and strength. A betrayal, a necessity, her salvation, all in one.

“Ash, I?—”

“Promise me you’ll never wield iron against me again.”

Dagfin met her eyes.

“I promise,” he said, watching her with the churning of the Ashild behind his lashes. No more than a whisper.

CHAPTER V

AISLING

Time devoured their passage bite by bite. It swallowed days, grinding their bones till Aisling paced her cabin restlessly, glaring out at the ever-expanding horizon, the endless sea that tasted of the patience Aisling cared little to practice. The sooner they arrived at Lofgren’s Rise, the closer she came to discovering what she was.Whoshe was and what would become of her. Every day, every hour, every breath before then, would be torture to her impatient soul.

“You need to eat,” Fergus would say, bringing Aisling plate after plate of dried bread, cheeses, fruits, and salted meats. But no matter its form, Aisling felt compelled by thedraiochtto vomit her meal.

“Here, take this, it will help.” Annind offered his sister medicine for the sea sickness. An anecdote for the perpetual swing of the ship beneath their boots. But it scarcely alleviated her symptoms. She expelled meal after meal over the side of the ship, thinning her flesh and paling her complexion. But Aisling knew well by now her sickness had nothing to do with the rocking of the ship. Aisling hadn’t been able to keep down her meals for weeks. Some strange tinkering of thedraiochtasher blood thickened like the Aos Sí. It was only now, in close quarters, that anyone had noticed.

Thunder cracked across the sky, heralding the arrival of an impending storm. An ill-timed cloudburst considering the mighty crags that rose from the sloshing sea to surround theStarling. The first appearance of anything other than salt water, rising from the depths like the black spine of a beast.

Aisling raced from her cabin and onto the main deck, eager to understand. She’d faithlessly prayed and begged to forge-forsaken gods for anything other than never-ending waves. Anything other than the stench of fish, salt, and the bitter beating theStarlingendured from pearl-tipped waves.

At last, there it was: jagged rocks, shards of ships, and the ruinous remains of marble statues whittled into the image of man, fractured but glaring at their ship from behind the veil of ocean mist. Hundreds of them, and as though frozen in time, they held weapons above their heads, faces contorted with rage or fear. Some statues climbed up the rocks, bodies half submerged in the sea. Some reached for theStarling. Some decapitated, amputated, chipped, crumbling, but all watching. All still as death. A city of ruins and ghosts hid amidst the Ashild.

A chill crept up the nape of Aisling’s neck, her hands growing cold as she gripped the boat’s edge.

“What is this place?” Aisling whispered to Annind, standing by the bowsprit beside her. His eyes narrowed, ebony hair curling in the fog and falling across his forehead.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, frightening Aisling. For it was rare for Annind to be left unknowing.

Aisling glanced over her shoulder at Starn and Dagfin at the mainmast, both staring at their map in disbelief. They both gestured to the helm, considering how to avoid what they were sailing into. The Roktan seafarers scattered across the ship and to their stations. But the rocks multiplied, hundreds appearingas the mist parted, surrounding them from every angle. TheStarlingtrapped between the ocean’s stone teeth.

“This wasn’t supposed to be here,” Annind said, clearing his throat. “There was a text in father’s library back in Castle Neimedh. The details elude me, but I remember the mention of land materializing and vanishing without rhyme or reason. Mortal men transforming, lost to sea but found as stone.”

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