Page 90 of The Queen and the Half-blood
His belief banished her lingering doubts and fears like The Sweeper clearing away sea fret on a spring morning.
Gods, she wanted to prove him right.
A misty rain began to fall as another long day of travel ended. Rubbing her back, which was stiff after a day in the saddle, Lara walked at Alar’s side through the encampment.
And all the while, her gaze kept flicking west.
The Slew always came from that direction, and she had to be ready for them. At the first sign, she’d rush back to her tent and throw on her cloak.
Her palms grew damp then. She hoped she could wield fire out here as successfully a second time.
Approaching the eastern perimeter, Lara’s gaze traveled over where warriors were pushing torches into the damp ground and lighting them.
They’d camped off the road, in a wooded glen. The silhouettes of tall, dark pines stood out against an indigo sky, and the rugged outline of the Shiel Range was a faint shadow to the south. They were well into the borderlands now. Albia would grow wilder from this point on.
And among the trees, golden lights flickered. Corpse candles.
Lara halted, her breath catching.
The Mother bless her, she’d never seen so many of them. With the spirit world churned up at present, the faerie lights had come out to play in force. Nonetheless, they were far more pleasant visitors than the ravenous Slew or the sorrowful wail of The Weeper.
The corpse candles lit up the wet dusk like hundreds of lanterns moving through the pines.
Memories of that evening near Doure rolled in then, returning with vivid clarity. They called to her now too, beguiling and beautiful. TheOrd-ree sealon her right hand flickered, answering the flames.
“Careful, Lara,” Alar’s voice drew her away from the flickering lights. “Don’t stare at them too long.”
Shaking herself free of the corpse candles' call, she swiveled on her heel and came face-to-face with her husband. She wiped the rain off her face before grimacing. “Thank you.”
Alar stepped in close then, glancing around to make sure they weren’t overhead before murmuring. “Your love of fire betrays you … the corpse candles sense it.”
Her heart kicked, and she cut a wary glance back at where the lights still burned amongst the trees. She wanted to deny his words, but her gut told her he was right. The dancing flames were likely more attractive to her because she was a fire-wielder. It was best she kept her gaze averted from the woods at dusk in future.
She looked up at the sky once more. “No sign of the Slew … yet.”
“They haven’t come two nights in a row so far,” he replied. “Although that doesn’t mean they won’t. There doesn’t appear to be any pattern to their arrival.”
“No,” she agreed, even as her pulse sped up. Taking back The Uplands from the Shee was going to be hard enough without having to fight off malevolent spirits along the way.
Heaving a sigh, she raised her face to the rain. Its gentle caress was soothing, yet it couldn’t wash away her worries. Ardroth hadn’t been the only village plagued by wraiths. They’d passed through another at noon with similar tales to tell. Grimlochs had been causing problems too—putting out hearthsand filling homes with choking smoke. The villagers were frightened, and they’d looked to her for answers.
However, she couldn’t give them any. Not yet.
“There are so many things I need to put right,” she whispered. “But I swear by The Five that I will.”
Alar watched his wife as her eyes fluttered shut. A faint sheen of rain covered her lovely face. Nonetheless, there were lines of strain there. She hid it well, but he could tell this campaign was already taking its toll on her.
Unfortunately, it would continue to.
His chest tightened.
He didn’t want this woman to suffer.
“You aren’t responsible for everything, Lara,” he said finally, choosing his words with care. The last time they’d ventured into this territory, they’d argued. But he didn’t want to clash with her this evening.
Opening her eyes, Lara shifted her attention to him. Her gaze was dark, reflecting the flickering flames of the nearby torches. “Someone has to be accountable,” she said huskily.
He frowned. “Aye … but we all have our limits.”
