Page 41 of The Queen and the Half-blood
“I can’t believe you weren’t bitter about that.” Mirren was watching her closely, as if trying to catch her out.
“I wasn’t,” she replied honestly. Bitterness had come later. “I was told of my duty from an early age … and accepted it.” She halted then, studying Mirren’s pale face. “Torran is a decent man … but you don’t have to partner with him, if you don’t want to. You have freewill, Mirren.”
The lass stiffened then, and Lara wondered if she’d overstepped. Despite their differences in rank, they were friends—but they both had held back certain things. Mirren had never learned about what had happened on Lara’s wedding night or the morning after.
Lara wouldn’t confide in her now either. Some things were best left unspoken.
Her handmaid lowered her gaze. “I wanted Torran once.” A blush rose to her cheeks then. “I watched him like an adoringpuppy … and dreamed that one day he’d actually notice that I breathed. It’s ironic that he finally has … although I don’t understand why he’d choose me.”
Lara watched her for a few moments before giving a soft snort. “Well, I’d say it proves he has good taste.”
During supper, Lara picked at her venison stew and dumplings, letting conversation swirl around her. It had been an exhausting day, and concern about her overkings gnawed at her. Not only that, but the days were passing with frightening swiftness. They were doing their best to prepare themselves for their upcoming campaign, but it didn’t feel like enough.
After her meeting with Artair and Niall, she worried she wouldn’t have enough spears, blades, arrowheads, and fighters ready in time. Their losses in Doure had to be replaced. Just another reason why they needed the Circines to partner with them. The less reliant they were on the wulvers, the better.
And soon, the Half-blood would arrive.
Despite that she was impatient to strike north, she wasn’t ready to see him again. And she definitely wasn’t ready for their handfasting. He’d share her alcove, her furs. He’d do what Dunchadh had—
No!She swiftly cut herself off. She couldn’t let herself think about such things, or she’d claw Alar’s face off if he tried to touch her.
Pushing aside her stew, she picked up her goblet of wine and took a large gulp.
Her gaze then traveled along the table, and she surveyed those who’d joined her on the high seat. Bree’s brother, Gil, was deep in discussion with Cailean and Torran. The chief-enforcer looked exhausted. His chiseled features were drawn, and he had dark smudges under his eyes. He’d worked tirelessly since his return to Duncrag, but that wasn’t the reason for his fatigue. Heneeded tonight’s blood-letting. In contrast. Gil’s lean face was animated.
It pleased Lara to see her archivist happier here these days. When he’d first come to live at Duncrag, he’d been traumatized—ripped from his old form and reluctantly living amongst the Marav. Unlike his sister, Gil hadn’t chosen Albia as his home. Instead, the Raven Queen had cast him out when she’d discovered his sister had left Sheehallion.
Her attention shifted then to Torran.
Tall, lanky, and covered in woad tattoos, with close-cropped dark-blond hair and grey eyes, the enforcer was undoubtedly attractive. She could see why Mirren had been drawn to him.
Worry tightened her belly as she took another sip of wine. Maybe itwasbest Mirren kept her distance from the warrior druid. Torran had always seemed decent; however, the earth magic that flowed through enforcers’ veins made them aggressive, unpredictable.
She was pondering this when Cailean and Torran excused themselves from the table.
It was time for the blood-letting.
Flanked by two of the Fort Guard, Lara climbed the steps to the walls. Usually, Bree would accompany her, but this evening, she was with Cailean.
Inhaling the frosty air, Lara pulled her fur cloak tighter about her to ward off the chill. Above, the sky was a glittering carpet of stars. There was no veil between the world and the Gods tonight. Perfect weather for the ritual that would take place on the hill northwest of the fort.
As she stepped up to the ramparts, the glow of torches below caught her eye.
There they were walking in pairs down The Thoroughfare—enforcers and the women they’d chosen to partner them. Onlywomen partnered with the warrior druids for the blood-letting, for they were closer to earth magic and provided a better channel during the ritual. Cailean led them, Bree at his side. As always, they made a striking couple. Cailean was brawny and raven-haired, and although Bree had taken Marav form, she still walked with the posture and smooth stride of one of the Shee.
Of course, not all the enforcers were men. Thalia strode among them. Tall and proud, her long dark hair plaited in thin braids, the female enforcer walked alongside the woman who’d partner her for the ceremony.
And toward the end of the procession, Lara caught sight of a small woman with curly dark hair, walking next to a tall, blond, tattooed enforcer.
Mirren and Torran.
Lara was sitting by the fire in her alcove when Mirren returned.
Florie and the twins were downstairs, helping clean up after supper, and so she’d enjoyed a rare moment of solitude. She nursed a cup of warm wine. Earlier, she’d even risked whispering to the flame burning on the low table beside the hearth—and had made it dance for her. Playing with fire helped relax her. It was a welcome distraction from her worries.
However, the flame now flickered sedately once more as the curtain swished open and Mirren hurried inside.
Her blue eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed. She’d never looked prettier.
