Page 111 of The Queen and the Half-blood
“The Warrior’s balls,” the chieftain growled. “Just ignore her.”
Pain lanced through his chest, making it difficult to breathe.I can’t.
“She’ll get tired of this game soon enough,” Lyall said, stepping closer to Alar then. The rain had slicked his fur down, emphasizing the power of his massive jaws. “Maybe, it’s time you just—”
Alar whirled away from the walls, shoved his way in between Lyall and the wulver next to him, and made for the steps.
“Where are you going?” Beathan shouted through the roar of the rain.
“To speak to my wife.”
Lara was shivering by the time the gates creaked open a crack, and a tall, lean figure slipped out.
Clenching her shaking hands by her sides, she watched him approach in long, stalking strides. “There you are,” she whispered. “Couldn’t resist it in the end, could you?”
In truth, she’d started to think he wasn’t going to show his face, after all—that she’d wait here until dusk settled, until the cold and wet drilled deep into her bones.
But he surprised her.
Her gaze tracked him as he approached. Like her, he was drenched, water running in rivulets down his leather breastplate. Alar’s expression was wary, as if he expected her to rage at him.
She wouldn’t though. She was way past that.
The rain continued to thunder down, stippling the puddles that now formed around the base of the fort. It soaked through her thick cloak and all the layers of clothing beneath. It ran into her eyes, down her neck, and between her breasts. The wind bit at her exposed skin. She felt as if she’d just emerged fully clothed from an icy dip in a loch.
Twisting, she looked over her shoulder at where Cailean, Bree, and Roth waited, weapons still drawn. Likewise, rain sluiced down their faces and plastered their hair against their scalps. All three wore grim expressions. “I need some privacy … move farther back.”
The chief-enforcer scowled deeply. “My Queen.” His tone was harsh. “You—”
“Just do it, Cailean,” she countered, cutting him off. “I take full responsibility for my actions.”
“This isn’t wise, Lara,” Bree answered. Her voice was strained. “Talking to him won’t change things.”
“It will.” She continued to stare the three of them down. Roth remained silent, although he watched her with a shadowed gaze. “Move back.”
Moments passed, and then, reluctantly, they obeyed her. Their boots squelched as they moved.
She eyeballed them until they were around fifteen yards distant. Well out of earshot.
That was better.
Now, she and Alar could talk.
41: A VALUABLE LESSON
ALAR HALTED A few yards away and folded his arms across his chest. The rain had slicked his black hair down, and his face glistened. It gave him a savage edge. “Hello, Lara.”
“Alar.”
Silence followed, broken only by the steady drum of the rain beating against the ground around them, before he asked, “What do you want?”
Lara blinked water out of her eyes. “An explanation.”
He studied her for a few moments, as if wondering what to make of her calmness. Maybe he’d expected rage, tears even, but he wouldn’t be getting any. “You trusted the wrong man.”
“Clearly.”
“I played you.” An edge crept into his voice. “I used your desperation, your hunger to take back what your father lost, to get what I wanted.”
