Page 31 of The Queen and the Half-blood
Lara frowned. “I was hoping we might use this victory to our advantage and push on, up the east coast,” she said firmly. “We could take Rothie next before cutting west to Cannich.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Ambitious, aren’t we?”
Heat washed over Lara. Was he mocking her? Her plan was an embryonic one that she’d mulled over in the bath earlier. She hadn’t said anything to her council yet. Instead, she wanted to talk to him first. “It makes sense,” she said stiffly.
“You’re rushing,” he answered, holding her eye. “And taking Cannich from the east is the hardest route. Best to strike out from Dulross instead.”
“Why?”
“Dulross is still yours, so you won’t waste resources winning it back. ‘The Brooch of Albia’ sits at a strategic point in the southern Uplands.”
Lara’s jaw tightened. He was right about that. Dulross was important. It was said that whoever held Dulross, held the realm. The Raven Queen would want the fort, but she wouldn’t get it.
“But that’s not the only reason why your plan is flawed,” Alar went on. “The road from Rothie to Cannich takes you right by Bracehell Barrow. It’s too risky to march an army through there. The Shee will swarm us before we get as far as Morae.” He paused then. “Our alliance isn’t just about reclaiming The Uplands, Lara … it’s about Marav and wulvers living as equals. You’ll need time to return to Duncrag and prepare your people. Soon, my brothers and sisters will reside at the capital … and its residents must be ready.”
Lara’s stomach clenched. Once again, he was telling her what to do. Curse him though, was he right? Was she in too much of a hurry? He did have a point; she had to warn the residents of Duncrag before an army of wulvers turned up. Her breathing grew shallow at the thought. Who was she fooling? It didn’t matter how much time she had. Her people were never going to like this.
It galled her to wait though, especially when her gut told her they should keep going. But she wasn’t a military strategist. Alar had more experience in these matters, and she’d be a fool to disregard his advice.
“So be it,” she finally managed. “I shall await your arrival.” Feeling sick, she turned from him, her fingers curving around the rough stone wall. It bore scorch marks and grooves, scars from the recent battle.
To her consternation, Alar moved closer. His proximity made her freeze. He smelled of leather, mixed with the woodsy, earthy scent of oak, with the undertone of something fresh like mint. It wasn’t unpleasant, yet she wanted him to step back, to give her space. Pulse racing, she shifted forward, pressing herself against the sturdy bulk of the wall. It steadied her.
“Have your overkings been putting pressure on you?” he asked finally.
“Of course … and they’re right to. They know what will happen if the enemy crosses into The Wolds.”
“The Shee will never take the South, Lara,” he replied, steel creeping into his voice then. “I promise you that.”
Surprised by the vehemence of his answer, she drew in a steadying breath, her gaze traveling over the dark pinewood that covered the hills to the north. She was about to ask how he could make such assurances when something in the sky above the forest caught her eye. “Shades … what’s that?”
The scuff of boots on stone followed as Alar stepped up to the wall next to her, so close that their elbows accidentally brushed.
Ignoring him, she craned her neck forward and narrowed her gaze. The last glimmers of daylight were fading now, yet there was no mistaking the dark shapes that twisted and dove like monstrous swallows above the tree line.
Alar whispered an oath under his breath. “It’s the Slew.”
Alarm shivered through her. “But it’s not yet time.”
“No … they’ve grown … active … of late.”
Lara’s pulse sped up. Over the past years, the Slew had become more vicious at Gateway—even forcing their way into dwellings to steal the souls of the sick, weak, or frightened. But seeing them on the wing outside of Gateway made her belly churn.
This is the last thing we need.
“There’s a burial ground in the middle of that pine forest, and they’ve been straying from it,” Alar added. “But this … is not something I’ve yet seen.”
As they watched, the dark shapes rose and fell. From this distance, it resembled a great swarm, and Lara held her breath, readying herself to flee from the walls should they head in her direction. But they didn’t. Instead, they arched high once more before diving beneath the canopy of dark conifers again.
Lara’s heart pounded as she continued to stare at the pinewood and the sky over it, searching for more black, writhing shapes. But The Unforgiven didn’t reappear. Only then did she exhale, her lightheadedness returning.
“We should probably get off the walls,” Alar murmured.
“Aye,” Lara agreed. “Let’s go.”
They stepped away from the edge, turned, and made their way back toward the steps leading down to the inner ward.
“Before we go inside … there’s something I’d like you to see,” Alar said then.
