The Savage Queen (The Aisling Trilogy #2)

Chapter XX

CHAPTER XX

AISLING

It snowed inside Fionn’s bedroom. This, despite the glass dome overhead, allowing the stars to spill into his ice-polished chambers. A room of pale hagwood carved with snowflakes, bears, and interlacing thorns. Floors draped in fluffy furs, and his four-poster bed blanketed in velvets, silks, and the hide of some Unseelie Aisling preferred to be ignorant of.

“His lordship will be here shortly,” Greum said, disappearing back through the mirror from which they’d entered.

Aisling walked further into the room.

Aisling was alone with her thoughts after the hours of chaos that ensued Lir’s first victory. Her own heart still twisted and sore from the exertion of spectating his win. And if this was merely Fionn’s first test, Aisling dreaded knowing both the second and the third were yet to come.

A familiar ripple sounded behind Aisling. She turned, expecting to find Fionn but instead meeting the eyes of a particularly small dwarven hare carrying a tray of bulb-shaped bottles. Aisling did a double take considering them more closely even as the hare’s paws trembled.

The creature stuttered, at last, managing to speak.

“Apologies, mo Lúra , I thought his lordship was here, but I see I’m mistaken so I’ll just?—”

“No!” Aisling said, biting her tongue lest she sound overeager. Those bottles were significant, Aisling knew. “Were you delivering something for his lordship?” Aisling gestured to the tray.

The hare nodded her head, eyes narrowing in the same breath.

“You’re more than welcome to leave it here until he arrives.”

“I really shouldn’t leave this unattended without his lordship’s approval.”

“Greum informed me Fionn would be here any moment,” Aisling reassured her. Still, the hare seemed unconvinced.

“I’ll return later.” The hare spun on her heel, facing the mirror once more.

“Very well, I’ll do my best to convince Fionn you bore good intentions.”

The hare paused.

“He despises when those around him aren’t punctual, but his temper is no match for me,” Aisling continued, arching her brows to feign sincerity.

The creature’s whiskers fluttered, attention darting between the tray and the not-so-mortal queen.

“I suppose it’s the lesser of two evils.”

Aisling internally rejoiced, doing her best to mask her interest.

The hare set the tray down beside Fionn’s bed before hopping off, offering one last glance before she disappeared through the mirror.

Immediately, Aisling wandered toward the tray. Atop it were seven bottles. One forest emerald, one bone-white and frothing, one rare violet, one blue and foaming, one lusty crimson with the consistency of cream, one clear and still, and one pink as peonies. Each swirling as though recently ladled from a bubbling cauldron.

Beneath each one, words were written on parchment in Rún.

Aisling cursed herself for not understanding, swearing she’d commit to learning the divine language at a later time.

A ripple sounded behind her.

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 my draiocht .”

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 your draiocht , I haven’t shackled it. Merely dulled it.”

Aisling blinked before checking the abyss within where her draiocht lived 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 the draiocht ’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 my draiocht so?” 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 your draiocht . 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 my draiocht , 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, your draiocht is 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.”

“I can’t say I’m not disappointed,” Aisling said. She heightened her voice, doing her best to sound melancholy despite the running of her heart. If Fionn would just lean a few inches closer, she could grab the parchment atop the tray of potions without him knowing.

“I’d hoped the silence of my draiocht was a result of a greater power and not the weakness of my own.”

“Not weakness. Youth. With time, I can teach you how to surpass such limitations. With time, you’ll grow alongside me.”

Aisling cleared her throat.

“Lir taught me how to summon my draiocht to begin with.”

Fionn reacted viscerally to the sound of Lir’s name. Nostrils flaring.

“Then your teachings have been insufficient.”

The memory of Sakaala flashed across Aisling’s memory. The merrow’s lawless, lusty magic, a potent influence, in what Aisling found, was powerful magic indeed.

“I’m open to your influence,” she said, leaning a hair closer. Lengthening the curve of her neck and holding Fionn’s gaze the way Sakaala had done with Lir.

Fionn, still rigid from overhearing his brother’s name, appraised Aisling anew. His eyes darting across her expression.

“Then truly bind with me. Here and now,” he said, his voice deepening as his shoulders relaxed and he mirrored her posture. Those words rang in the air between them. A true binding . If it wasn’t a union, Aisling wasn’t certain what it was nor what it meant. How two souls could weave their fate threads into the Lady’s tapestry of their own will.

“How is that done exactly?” Aisling asked.

“It’s better demonstrated than explained.” Fionn cupped her jaw, leaning closer. “And I can demonstrate now.”

“I said ‘open’ to your influence not ‘committed’. You’ll have to convince me to engage in any demonstrations,” Aisling said. “At least until the tests are done with.” Aisling blinked away the rage inspired by the memory of Fionn’s deception: how he and the Lady had ensnared her and almost severed the bond between she and Lir without her consent. Nevertheless, rage, anger, vengeful thoughts would only get her so far. Fionn responded to Aisling most when she was coy and eager to participate in his games.

“Is that not what I’ve done these past several days?”

“If you believe that effort enough, then you’ve lost the battle before it’s begun.”

Aisling placed her hand beside where Fionn sat, forcing herself to lean closer. Nevertheless, she still wasn’t quite near enough to snag the parchment.

“What will it take to convince you then?” He moved further into her, the tip of his nose near brushing hers as he tilted his head down. His chest rising and falling in great breaths.

“It wouldn’t be a true victory if I merely gave you the answers, Your Lordship.”

“Call me Fionn.”

“Very well, Fionn, you’ve a great task ahead of you.” Aisling inched closer, her lips almost brushing against his. Enveloped in his perfume of northern spices, of wintertide mornings, and frozen lakes.

He closed his eyes, tracing her arm with his fingertips, her shoulder, finding her neck, and pulling in for the kiss.

Their lips met and Aisling’s stomach tossed. Sickened by the cold strangeness of it. When she’d kissed Lir, it’d been realm-shattering. When she’d kissed Dagfin, it’d felt soft, familiar, and kind. Kissing Fionn was uncomfortable. Wholeheartedly wrong. Frigid and stiff. Yet if escaping this prison meant continuing her venture toward Lofgren’s Rise, she found she’d do anything. Including paying the cost of a meager kiss. One without feeling and untethered by heartstrings. A cantrip easily dealt when desperate.

The kiss did the trick. Aisling pushed far enough into Fionn’s embrace to reach and snatch the parchment behind him, slowly drawing it into the folds of her skirt while Fionn was distracted.

At last, it was well hidden, and Aisling tore herself from Fionn, hardly able to endure another moment.

Fionn blinked, registering the sharp contrast with a confused expression.

“I’m exhausted,” Aisling said, leaping to her feet and moving toward the mirror.

“You can rest here,” Fionn said, gesturing to his bed. His silver hair dangling across his flushed face.

Aisling felt a bout of nausea churn inside her stomach, but she stifled it, baring her teeth in a grin instead.

“No, no, it’s best I take my leave and allow you a respite as well.”

Aisling placed her fingertips against the mirror, ready to dive into it before Fionn noticed the parchment was missing.

“Wait. Aisling.”

Aisling cursed her name.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice painfully genuine. “You won’t regret giving me the chance to prove myself or Oighir’s worth. The entire realm will be better for it.”

Aisling didn’t look back before she dove into the mirror. Swallowing all that’d just unraveled, darting through Castle Oighir and back to her chambers.

The journey back to her rooms was longer than Aisling expected. This, in part, because she’d materialized outside the wrong mirror, on the opposite side of Oighir than she’d intended.

Aisling sped down the corridors, avoiding meeting any of the servants’ or guards’ lingering glares. Aisling had never traversed these passages alone. She’d always been accompanied by either Greum, Frigg, or Fionn himself, and so, her solitude was enough to draw suspicion.

Aisling lifted her chin, feigning confidence as she rushed across bridges, down spiraling staircases, and to the east wing where her rooms were nestled.

That was, until someone or something grabbed Aisling.

Aisling stifled the urge to scream, squirming against her captor. A hand over her mouth and another wrapped around her waist, pressing the back of her body against the firm edge of someone much taller than herself.

Then Aisling smelled him. Wet leaves, rain-steeped earth, cypress needles, and smoke.

Aisling’s stomach dropped. Her mind emptied as she beheld him, a fireside tale brought to life before her. The past they’d lived together now more dream than reality. Seeing him from afar had been startling enough but so close, held by him, near wrenched Aisling’s heart from her chest.

“Ssshh,” Lir whispered against her ear, his breath hot against her skin. Aisling could’ve rolled her eyes back at the pure pleasure of it. The sound of his voice, thick and rough, thrumming through her core.

A Sidhe sentinel passed by then, gaze focused ahead and uninterested in the shadowy alcove Lir had drawn them both into.

“You’ve gathered suspicion traversing the castle alone,” Lir said once they were out of ear shot.

Aisling wrenched herself free from his grip, turning to face him. But even as she made to build the distance between them, Lir brought her closer, keeping her in the shadows.

Aisling’s heart hammered against her chest. Unable to swallow, to blink for the blinding light of his verdant gaze studying her. No memory, no dream, no vision, did the fae king justice. Lir was otherworldly defined, the dark hue of his windswept hair dyed by hands of midnight. The magic aura of him, blending seamlessly with her own and defrosting the cold that gripped her draiocht , morsel by morsel. As violently lovely as he was elegant and wild. His touch burning through Aisling’s flesh.

“You can’t be here— I shouldn’t be here,” Aisling whispered, her breathing uneven. “If anyone discovers we’ve spoken, much less?—”

“Much less what, ellwyn ?” He grinned, a beam capable of unraveling Aisling where she stood, forgoing reason in favor of whatever pleasure the glint in his eyes promised. The memory of their kiss at the arena heating the air between them. And the fear he’d ask for another, more frightening to Aisling than any other beast.

“Why do you call me that?”

“ Ellwyn ?”

Aisling nodded.

“After we reach Lofgren’s Rise, return with me to Annwyn and I’ll show you.”

Aisling bristled, shaking her head.

“You’re risking everything! Fionn will dissolve the test and you’ll have forfeited a victory if he discovers you’ve spoken with me.”

Yet despite the tone of her voice, Lir’s eyes flashed brilliantly, his smile descending into something far more wolfish.

“So, you want me to win. Perhaps I already have then.”

Aisling bristled.

“You’re the key to my prison and no more.”

“All I’m hearing is that I’m your salvation, ellwyn .”

“Once I’ve escaped Oighir, I continue on my own, lest you smite my chances of discovering the answers I need.”

Lir’s attention darted to the right, something catching his eye.

Without hesitation, Lir pulled Aisling against him once more, sinking further into the shadows. A group of more sentinels rushed past, their armor clinking together as they shouted to one another in Rún.

Lir pressed his hands flat against her abdomen, curling his fingers into the fabric of her dress the tighter he held her.

“Don’t move,” he said against her ear. Aisling heated, her heart in her throat even as seven or so boars gathered just outside their alcove. They babbled back and forth in Rún, but by the tone and cadence of their voices, Aisling knew they were arguing over which direction she’d wandered.

“Fionn asked them to trail you back to your quarters,” Lir translated as quiet as a wolf in the wood. Aisling’s body moved of its own accord tilting toward the deep curve of the fae king’s voice. Lir stiffened in surprise, swiftly recovering and pulling her closer still.

The boars squabbled back and forth until one paused, doing a double take at their shadowy alcove.

“Hold your breath, ellwyn ,” Lir commanded. Aisling hesitated before the boar stalked a pace closer, eyes narrowing in suspicion. Then the pressure of the air shifted, Aisling’s ears popped, and magic filled the air.

The boar drew his mace, moving closer still. So, Aisling held her breath as the boar met her eyes. There was a moment of pause, a stilling of everything as Lir’s arms hardened around her, the firm edge of his chest scarcely rising or falling so as not to be discovered. A foil to the thudding of Aisling’s heart, the heating of her flesh, or the murder of silver-eyed ravens taking flight in her stomach. Until, at last, the boar withdrew, turning back to his partner.

“ There’s no one ,” he said.

Lir had glamoured them. What the boar saw, Aisling knew not. Only that Lir had somehow cloaked their presence.

And even after they’d passed, Lir continued stepping back, drawing them both into a new room entirely. A chamber clouded in steam till Aisling could scarcely see her own hand raised before her. They were in a public bathing chamber, snug against a wall decorated in polished pebbles, lest they fall into the baths to their left. The taste of winterberry soaps dappled her tongue.

“What are you doing?!” she asked, trying to look past Lir and further into the bathing chamber. It was futile. The steam was a dense veil, obscuring any and all vision.

“I needed to see you,” he said, releasing her and dipping his head to look into her eyes.

“You’ll see me this evening at the second test.”

His eyes narrowed, searching Aisling for something. The intensity of his eyes, his undiluted attention, curling her toes.

“It isn’t enough. The thread that binds us needs more. Will always need more. My draiocht responds to your own, Aisling.”

“That’s what this is about? Power?”

“What else is there?”

Aisling ground her teeth, pushing Lir back. He gave in to her touch, as though weak to it. And yet, he drove her mad, speaking words that magicked her heart, only to stake it with his true intentions. The fae king wasn’t capable of whatever he made Aisling feel. Despite everything Aisling had misunderstood, ignored, was lied to about, the fae king was still the nightmare muse of blood-soaked legends. The villain she was taught to fear all her life. His only role in Aisling’s life would only ever be a pursuit of strength and might.

Aisling bit down the darkening of her heart, pulling from her skirts the parchment she’d stolen from Fionn’s chamber.

“Here,” she said, offering it to Lir. “For tonight’s test.”

Her aid, offered in the name of escape and nothing more.

Nothing more , she repeated to herself.

Lir accepted the paper, unfolding it and reading its contents.

“Where did you find this?” he asked, considering her with a combination of confusion and amazement.

“In Fionn’s chamber.”

Immediately, whatever joy the contents had aroused in him burnt to a crisp the moment Aisling spoke the words.

“He gave it to you?”

Aisling tore her eyes away. “How I obtained it isn’t important, only that you have it now.”

Yet Lir’s suspicion was growing, evolving into anger and, if Aisling was seeing correctly, potent jealousy. Lir wasn’t accustomed to not having what he wanted.

“It’s important to me.”

“Whatever happens between Fionn and I hardly affects whatever bond you and I bear—or the power you wish to reap from it.” Aisling’s words were bitterer than she’d anticipated, cursing the emotion in her voice.

Lir’s expression narrowed, his jaw sharpening the harder he ground it. And when his eyes drifted to the collar at Aisling’s throat, he paused, the world stilling in anticipation of his rage.

“What happened between the two of you?”

“We kissed,” Aisling said, both syllables bleeding the steam that circled the chamber till Aisling smelled violence, then saw it in Lir’s eyes. A glint of blood rage and white fury that frightened Aisling even now. Sent chills racing down her spine. “A currency you’re familiar with exchanging.”

“You feel something for the son of Winter?”

“You mean your brother? One you deigned to mention much less any other information?”

Aisling wasn’t certain why this felt like a betrayal. Lir had never divulged Fionn was his brother, but the topic had never arisen and so he’d never bore the opportunity. Yet, Lir didn’t owe Aisling anything other than their union and the treaty it symbolized. One he betrayed as a result of Danu’s visions. And no kiss, or even two, could change that.

Lir focused. “That wasn’t an answer.”

“Are you jealous?” Aisling smiled despite herself, moving closer to him.

“Do you want me to be?” he asked.

Aisling squinted, chest to chest with the fae king. Ignoring the dipping of her stomach, the tilting of the world as they shared one another’s breath. “Now who isn’t answering?”

Lir’s attention shot to Aisling’s mouth. His chest rising and falling a pace quicker the longer his attention lingered.

“We don’t have time for this,” Aisling said, aware of the shouting of the guards outside the baths and then the alcove. If anyone found them, they’d both be doomed, and the boars earlier had been a close enough call.

Aisling pushed past Lir. “You can explain everything to me another time. When we have it. Right now, every second you’re near to me, is a second we risk the entire test.”

Lir followed her with his eyes.

“Win or lose,” he said, just before she turned the corner. “Fionn has sealed his own death.”