Page 82 of The Queen and the Half-blood
Before her, the High Queen’s banner snapped in the wind. A black wolf on a snow-white field. The Whistle gusted through Duncrag this morning, its shrill notes whining as it battered the high walls. The sky above was pale blue and filled with scudding clouds.
It was a fine day to set off on a journey.
The southern enclosure was a sea of leather and mail-clad bodies, bristling spears, and horses this morning. Gazes snapped her way, and a cheer went up, echoing off stone. They were waiting for her to join them.
Lara smiled, anticipation tightening her chest.
It’s time.
Since her return from Doure, the smiths of Duncrag had worked hard to provide her with enough iron. She’d have liked more weapons for this campaign—for some of the warriors would go into battle armed with nothing but pikes—but since Braewall and Baldeen had turned on her, she would have to make do. Likewise, she didn’t have as many warriors as she’d hoped for, although the carpet of iron helmets spilling out of the enclosure and onto The Thoroughfare beyond reassured her. Roth had done an admirable job.
The wulvers heavily outnumbered her own army—but this would still be aMaravvictory.
“I should be coming with you, My Queen.” Lara turned to find Mirren standing behind her. Clad in a sky-blue tunic that matched her eyes, her handmaid clutched a woolen shawl around her shoulders. A deep groove had etched between Mirren’s eyebrows. The lass then cast a look over at where Florie, Ani, and Lilith—dressed in thick woolen tunics and fur-lined cloaks—stood behind Lara, her lips compressing.
She’d have three rather than four attendants on this trip.
“Not this time, Mirren.” Lara moved closer then, taking hold of her hands and squeezing gently. “I may not return for a moon or two … in the meantime, I need you to help run the broch.” She nodded to where a tall, lanky figure stood a few yards away. The wind ruffled Torran’s dark-blond hair. The enforcer was watching them, his grey eyes sharp. “I have left Torran in charge of defending the fort … butyouwill be my steward.”
Mirren’s eyes snapped wide, her lips parting.
Lara squeezed her hands once more. “Don’t look so shocked,” she murmured. “You haven’t been an indentured servant here for a while now. Aye, you’re my handmaid … but you’re so much more as well. You’re as sharp as a whip and strong.” Her mouth quirked into a smile. “You will do me proud.”
Mirren made a strangled sound in the back of her throat, even as her eyes glistened.
Releasing her hands, Lara glanced back at Torran. “You’ll give my steward the guidance she needs?”
He nodded, although Lara caught the way his jaw tensed. “Of course, My Queen.”
Meanwhile, panic flared in Mirren’s eyes.
Gaze flicking between them both, Lara wondered if it was wise to throw these two together like this. Had they not spoken since her handfasting? Protecting and stewarding Duncrag together would bring them in much closer contact. However, they were the people she wished to leave in charge.
She didn’t know when she’d be back and needed a steward she could trust. Mirren would act in her best interests.
However, there was another reason the lass was staying behind.
Lara had no family now, and she couldn’t bid Bree to remain at Duncrag—her friend would have flatly refused anyway—but shecouldprotect Mirren. She’d left a strong garrison behind too—despite that those warriors would have been useful in the North. A handful of enforcers, two sacrificers, and two bards were staying as well. The fort was vulnerable these days, both from her overkings and the Slew. She couldn’t leave Duncrag exposed.
Her belly contracted then.What if I fail?Her father had set out from Duncrag, full of optimism and determination, but he’d never returned. She had the wulvers, but they didn’t make her invincible.
And what of her fire magic? At present, it was more of a liability than a gift. She wasn’t sure she’d ever learn to wield it properly—and even if she did, how would she keep it secret?
And what if the Slew returned again? They would have to be vigilant at dusk on the road north.
Her breathing grew shallow then, her chest tightening. There were many obstacles ahead, but she’d take each as it came.
Turning from Mirren and Torran, Lara’s gaze traveled down the steps to where Alar approached.
Like her, he was dressed for travel. Thick leathers encased his body, and a heavy black woolen cloak rippled from his shoulders. He looked like an enforcer dressed all in black, but ever since they’d met, he’d worn no other color. His leather breastplate, embossed with the Hearthkeeper’s Endless Flame, gleamed in the morning light. The twin hilts of the blades he wore strapped to his back thrust up above each shoulder.
The Whistle screeched through the yard then, catching his long dark hair and whipping it around. Pushing it out of his face, Alar secured his hair at his nape with a thong as he approached.
The sight of him made her belly clench.
They’d barely spoken since their argument. Two tense days had followed. She’d thrown herself into preparing for their departure, doing her best to avoid her husband. Yet there was no escaping him this morning.
Meanwhile, she was aware of eyes upon them. Bree and Cailean’s gazes were sharp. They’d noticed the frostiness between the High Queen and the prince consort over the past couple of days. Bree had questioned Lara about it the evening before, but she’d brushed her off. She didn’t want anyone to know about her lapse in judgment.
