Page 23 of The Queen and the Half-blood
His gaze held hers, even as his pulse quickened. “If that’s what you wish … aye.”
Lara stared back at him for a few moments before lifting her cup and draining its contents in a long draft. Alar watched her, uneasiness feathering through him.
When she lowered the cup, her lips were stained red. “Very well,” she said hoarsely. “I shall wed you.”
Alar’s heart kicked hard, although he kept his expression veiled. “You do me an honor.”
Tension rippled through her body, and for a moment, he thought she might withdraw her agreement. Instead, she cleared her throat. “I shall call in my chief-enforcer … so he can witness this.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I’ll need something more binding than that.”
Enough feeling sorry for her. Lara would try to wriggle out of this the moment his back was turned. He had to make their pact ironclad.
She stilled. “Excuse me?”
“I require you to make a blood oath.”
Her breathing hitched. Her lips then compressed. “Is that necessary?”
“Aye.”
And it was. This was one thing he wouldn’t yield on.
“Do you think I’ll go back on my word?”
“You’re in a corner right now and will do anything to get out of it.” Her pine-green eyes darkened to jade, and her full lips thinned, yet he continued, “The blood oath requires but a small nick in the flesh … it won’t take long.”
Her fingers clenched so tightly around her empty cup that her knuckles turned white.
Alar stilled. Had he gone too far? It wouldn’t help him if she shouted to her chief-enforcer and had him hauled from the camp. His breathing grew shallow as he waited for her to weigh up his words.
The blood oath was something you only resorted to when desperate. The people of Albia believed that if you broke a promise made in blood, The Five would damn you.
Lara squeezed her eyes shut then, as if praying to the Gods for strength, and Alar drank her in. Shewasyoung, around five and twenty summers at most. At first glance, she appeared soft, pliable, yet he sensed a steeliness to her. She’d bend, but she wouldn’t easily break. The High Queen was no fool.
The realization both pleased and unsettled him.
He had no wish for a mewling, whining wife, although he could see Lara mac Talorc wouldn’t be easily manipulated. He, on the other hand, had to be wary of being played.
“Very well,” she ground out finally. “Get it over with.”
“I’ll need a knife … as you can see, I don’t carry one at present.”
Jaw set, she put aside her cup and drew a thin-bladed dagger from the leather scabbard at her belt. Alar recognized it. The knife was the same one she’d defended herself with against the powries days earlier. Now, as then, she drew the weapon with confidence—someone had clearly shown her how to use it—before holding it out to him, grip first. Her throat worked as she did so.
It was a vulnerable gesture, one that surprised him.
Putting down his wine, Alar took the dagger. He then rose to his feet and stepped toward her. “Stand up.” She obeyed, even though the groove between her eyebrows had deepened. She’d gone the color of milk. “Hold out your left hand.”
A tremor went through her, and for a moment, he thought she might change her mind. But then, she thrust out her hand. Her gaze glinted as she dared him to hurt her.
Gently, he took hold of her wrist and turned it over, exposing the translucent skin underneath. It was the finest skin he’d ever seen, and Alar hesitated a moment. He was loath to mar it, but this was necessary.
He drew the sharp blade swiftly across her wrist, hearing the hiss of her breath follow. Then, he turned his right handover and cut himself. A sting of pain followed, and a sensation of warmth followed as blood welled. Usually, he wore leather bracers upon his forearms, but he’d removed them before coming here this evening, in anticipation of making the blood oath.
Aye, he’d planned this.
He then placed his wrist against hers, curling his fingers around her slender forearm. The flesh beneath his was soft, the bones delicate. “Grip my wrist tightly,” he commanded, and a moment later, her fingers formed a bracelet around his arm, her hold surprisingly strong. It struck him then that this act was very similar to the handfasting that would soon bond them as husband and wife. Indeed, the words of the blood oath were similar to handfasting ones.
