Page 59 of The Queen and the Half-blood
He twitched then, waking up.
Hastily, Lara pulled one of the furs over herself to cover her nakedness. It was pointless really, since he’d already seen everything, but it made her feel more comfortable. More in control of things.
With a groan, he rolled over onto his back and gave a long, cat-like stretch. “Shades,” he murmured. “I slept like a hibernating trow.”
Lara’s mouth curved. “Fortunately, you don’t snore like one.” When she was a bairn, her mother had told her that the rolling boom of thunder during a summer storm was the sound of trows snoring. The creatures hid away in their knowes during the warmer months, for sun on their skin would turn them to stone. However, ever since the Shee had taken the North, things had changed. News reached Duncrag regularly that trows ventured out in sunlight, and powries strayed far from their ruins. The reminder made Lara’s mood sober.
With this man’s help, she’d put things right.
“I’ll be holding a council meeting this afternoon,” she said then. “And you’ll join us.”
His lips quirked. “Of course.”
“There’s still so much to organize before we head north,” she went on, ignoring the teasing edge to his voice. “We’ve had the ironsmiths working double shifts ever since we got back … and Captain mac Tav has managed to recruit more warriors from The Wolds. They’re young … and green … but, hopefully, they should be ready in time.”
“And what is the mood amongst your council these days?”
Lara frowned, wariness rising. “They are behind me.”
“Really? Last time I joined one of your meetings, the atmosphere was … frosty.”
“Aye, well … they were upset … concerned I’d made the wrong choice.”
“They’ve forgiven you?”
“Aye.”
That was a wee lie—for although she was getting along better with her advisors these days, they still weren’t happy about the alliance she made. But once she drove the Shee from The Uplands, they would be.
“And what of the people of Duncrag? We didn’t get a warm welcome upon our arrival.”
Lara pursed her lips. “They’ve never had such close contact with wulvers before. Give them time.”
“Perhaps we need to hurry things along.”
Her gaze narrowed. “How exactly?”
He smiled. “Don’t look so suspicious. I’m only suggesting we take a walk through the fort this morning. I’ll take my captains with me … you bring your council. Seeing Marav and wulvers walking together, united, might help them thaw.”
Lara stepped out into the overcast morning and pulled her fur cloak tightly about her. She and Alar had just breakfasted on oatcakes, butter, and honey together. Later, they’d meet with her council in the hall, as promised.
But now, she was, reluctantly, taking his advice.
He was right. They couldn’t hide in her broch. The High Queen and the prince consort had to be visible. They hadto encourage the residents of Duncrag to accept change. The wulvers were here to stay.
Her breathing grew shallow then.
Why did she feel as if she’d crossed a river and then burned the bridge down behind her?
Alar stepped up to her side, clad in black leather and armed with his blades, as usual. She eyed him, considering whether the events of the night before had changed her opinion of the Half-blood.
They had.
It wasn’t just the sex—although the fact that he’d treated her gently and let it be her choice had surprised her—but that they’d both lowered their guard around each other. She’d revealed a vulnerability he could have exploited, while he’d told her a little about his past, a tale he didn’t usually share by all accounts.
She still didn’t trust him, and whenever their conversation shifted to war or politics, they often clashed. But the fact remained that Alar was a strong ally.
His gaze glinted as it met hers. “Ready?”
