Page 98 of Immortal Game

He seemed to be stalling. Shea tilted her head. “So I am.”

“I will hear your request presently. Only…” With no other formality to draw upon, his composure splintered. “Only allow me to ask one thing of you. I beg of you, do not take her from me.”

And then, the High King of the Irish Otherworld—Midir of Bri Leith and the Silver Eye and Golden Hair and the Thousand Talents and God knew what else—dropped to his knees before her. Shea stared down at him with complete and utter mortification. What if someone saw him like this? Did he have no pride left to lose?

“Get up,” she said hastily.

Slowly, Midir lifted his head and blinked as though rousing from a dream. He did what she asked, then readjusted his mantle with an air of self-consciousness. Clearly, both of them were beyond ready to move on.

“I’m not going to take her from you,” Shea said. “She’s not some prize pony to exchange between us.”

“No. She is not.” His gratitude gave way to wariness. She could see the unspoken question in his eye:What do you want, then?

When she hadn’t been drowning in theory, this was the exact question she’d turned over. How could everyone win in a zero-sum game? How could she set all of them free? Now that she’d spoken to Aideen, the answer seemed so simple. “Give your crown and your title—and all the powers they come with—to Aideen. Name her the ruler of the Irish Otherworld.”

This, he obviously did not expect. Midir reeled back as though she’d slapped him across the face. “Name another prize.”

Shea glanced at Aideen. Her sister stared back at her with plain shock—and a hope that made her entire being seem to glow. Emboldened, Shea said, “No.”

“There must be something else you desire,” he countered, with an edge of desperation to his voice. “Riches or immortality. A magical ability of your choosing. Name anything, no matter how trivial or seemingly impossible. Name it, and it is yours.”

“I already have. I want my sister on your throne.”

Midir cast his gaze about helplessly, willing someone to come and wake him from this nightmare. When nothing materialized, he removed his crown. Shea could not even begin to guess what he was thinking as he stared down at it. How long had he worn it? How much longer had he expected to? Then, with newfound resolve, he approached his wife.

“Aideen Echraide,” he said hoarsely. Then, he amended, “Aideen Fury. Be Find. Dearest and gentlest and loveliest.” He spoke as though every word were simultaneously extracted under torture and plucked from a poem. He spoke with reverence and terror and awe, like an acolyte before his cruel goddess. “Sovereign Queen of the Irish Elfmounds.”

He set the crown atop her head, a band of bright gold and silver branches against her flaxen hair. Once he did, the very earth trembled in recognition. The wind gusted, carrying with it some ancient, primal voice. It did not speak, only screamed, but Shea understood it all the same:All Hail Aideen, Queen of Tír nAill.

In the distance, Shea could hear the faint shouting of the crowd. They’d have to be addressed soon enough. For now, Midir and Aideen seemed to be the last two people on earth.

“What will be your first decree?” he asked brokenly. “Will you command me to go?”

“No, but I will ask you to,” Aideen said softly. “I have some things I need to figure out. Will you wait until I do?”

“Of course.”

“Even if it takes me a thousand years?”

“Aideen.” Midir took Aideen’s face in his hands. His thumbs brushed away the tears that had begun to fall. “I have loved you for a hundred lifetimes. I will love you for a hundred more.”

She did not reply. She only laid her hand atop his, then pressed a kiss to his palm. Shea couldn’t bring herself to watch anymore. Without a word, she slipped away and left the two of them to their goodbyes.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Eventually, Aideen found Shea in a forgotten corner of the gardens. Shea sat beneath a trellis of blooming jasmine. Butterflies in every color flitted around her, settling on her shoulders and nestling into her hair. On any other day, she might have swatted them away. Right now, they were oddly comforting. They reminded her of Ciara.

“Will you do one last thing for me?” Aideen asked.

Shea hadn’t expected to see Aideen again so soon—and certainly not looking so calmly determined. “Yeah. Anything.”

Uncertainty stole over her face. It made her look girlish, almost how Shea remembered her. “I should face Fuamnach after all this time. Will you come with me?”

“Why?” Shea asked guardedly.

“Because I’ve dreamt about her almost every single night since I got here.” Aideen wrapped her arms around herself. “I only remember flashes of her and what happened. But I do remember that I was shocked to see her in the castle. Midir never told me he had another wife.”

“Men,” Shea muttered under her breath.