Page 96 of The Savage Queen

“Aengus hasn’t been seen since Lugh speared its third head during the finality of the Wild Hunt,” Gilrel said. “It devoured half his kingdom before fleeing, showering those still alive in its blood. Those fortunate few are said to bear unnaturally long lifespans even by Sidhe standards.”

Aisling considered, pulling her hood over her head as the trees trembled, sprinkling their procession with snow.

“So how was Ina able to capture Racat? The strongest of the three?”

Once more, the fae knights exchanged glances. All save for Lir, eyes pinned to the trail up ahead.

“She made a deal.”

“Do you know what happens after death, Aisling?”

Aisling rose from where she lay in the Lady’s thicket of stars, plucking them like gems from their branches as she spoke.

“The Aos Sí and their believers sail into the Otherworld,” the Lady continued. “While the mortals simply vanish into oblivion. An everlasting dark. But what about those who exist somewhere in between?”

Aisling steeled herself, straightening and lifting her chin so she met the Lady’s eyes unafraid.

“We live long enough that it remains a mystery,” Aisling said, gritting her teeth as the starry branches brushed her cheeks lovingly.

“We?”

“There will be others like me,” Aisling said. “A kind to call my own.”

The Lady laughed, the decibel of it threatening to shatter every star in an explosion of shimmering shards like glass.

“So says the lonely. The rejected. The outlander. Not quite human, not quite fae. Destined to be alone so you cling to a fae king who gives you a sense of purpose. Makes you feel powerful in his desire and praise. Who’s turned his loathing into obsession, stripping the power the hatred of others has ever held over you.”

“You speak as though you have any authority over the matter.”

“I am the Lady of Fate.”

“You are the slave of fate. Cursed to weave its threads but never to create them. Bound by fate’s Forge-given law.”

The Lady’s smile fell. “And yet, still I have seen your end, Aisling.” She approached, a pathway like galaxies lighting her every step. “You perish in a world of your own making. Of fire, of war, of chaos. Collapse before your throne of antlers. An axe in your heart.”

CHAPTER XXXII

AISLING

The forest was bleeding.

Sap oozed down its bark, freezing before it ever kissed the snow.

Aisling lay awake, listening to its pining. To the wind, the crackling of the fire, and the skittering of beasts prowling in the dark.

“You need to rest, Ash,” Dagfin whispered, startling Aisling from her thoughts. The same words the Roktan prince had spoken a thousand times, but always inside an iron embrace, mortal castles, and bastions, lest the wet-nurses discover them awake while the moon still reigned.

Aisling opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it, piquing Dagfin’s interest.

“I used to avoid the nightmares as well,” he said, understanding despite Aisling’s silence.

“You’re braver than I.”

“It isn’t courage. It’s a hardening of the heart. A refusal to feel if it means feeling afraid.”

Aisling shook her head.

“You’re too good, Fin. You cannot understand what it means to be haunted by innocent lives taken and to despise it not out of guilt but anger. Anger that it still bears any power over me at all.”

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