Page 60 of The Queen and the Half-blood
She nodded. “Let’s face them.”
They crossed the yard to the gates, following Cailean and Torran—and Skaal. Bree and Roth flanked the royal couple, while Lyall and Dolph strode behind them. The rest of the High Queen’s council brought up the rear.
As soon as they left the broch’s perimeter behind and stepped out onto The Thoroughfare, they drew a crowd.
That was a good thing, even if the atmosphere was strained. Bairns clung to their mothers’ skirts as they eyed the wulvers, while the men and women of Duncrag watched their High Queen with resentment simmering in their eyes.
Lara pretended not to notice. Instead, she spoke brightly to them, stopping at intervals on the way down the hill to introduceher husband and his captains, and to assure them that the wulvers would help them win back the North.
It was hard work.
Many of those she approached were too distracted by the sight of the wulvers, Lyall especially—for he was a hulking figure—to concentrate on her words. Usually, it was Cailean’s fae hound who drew the eye. But today, no one paid Skaal much attention.
“Where will the wulvers live once The Uplands are reclaimed?” One man asked, his tone belligerent. He was one of the ironsmiths, who’d ventured out of his forge wearing a soot-covered apron. “Will they remain here?”
“Aye,” Lara replied with more conviction than she felt. In truth, she and Alar hadn’t discussed what would happen afterward—she could only deal with one obstacle at a time—but this smith wanted a clear answer. “And you will welcome them.”
“And what will they eat?”
“The same food as you. There’s plenty for us all.” Indeed, the fields around Duncrag were fertile, and it had been a good harvest this year. No one in this fort would go hungry.
“We are good at fishing,” Lyall said then, his gravelly voice carrying across the crowd. “And we are happy to share our catches with you all.”
The man scowled at this, eying the wulver captain as if he’d just offered him a turd.
“Wulvers aren’t savages,” Alar said smoothly, speaking up for the first time. “They’re peaceloving by nature. They’d have lived alongside you years ago, if you hadn’t shunned their kindness and driven them out.”
Dolph growled something under his breath then, while a rumble went through the surrounding crowd.
“Gone are the days when the Marav had nothing to do with faerie creatures,” her husband continued. “The world haschanged … and we must adapt … or the Raven Queen will march upon Duncrag and take it for her own.” He paused then. “Would you rather wulvers shared this fort with you … or that the Shee became your masters?”
Muttering began then, and they moved on.
Leaving the top terrace of Duncrag behind, they walked through the two levels of the wulver encampment. Here, Alar called for more of his brothers and sisters to join them. Lara’s gut tightened when they did.
This ‘stroll’ wasn’t going well, and the lower levels of Duncrag were rougher than the top ones. She hoped Alar knew what he was doing. At the same time, she wanted the wulvers with her. The unfiltered hostility toward their new allies was starting to leave a bitter taste in her mouth. This had always been a Marav problem: the belief that they were superior to the other races who inhabited Albia.
But their prejudice couldn’t continue.
Farther down, they walked past the middens, where their Shee prisoners pushed barrows of rotting food, excrement, and offal over to deep pits before emptying them.
Lara wrinkled her nose. She usually only ever passed the middens on horseback and would urge Bracken into a brisk trot to escape the stench. But today she was on foot, and there was no escaping the putrid odors that enveloped her.
And as they walked by, she marked the way Alar watched the Shee.
“They fascinate you, don’t they?”
His head jerked her way. “Not really.”
She huffed. “You must want to ask them about your father.”
An emotion she couldn’t quite place rippled across his face. “Why would I?”
“Because everyone wants to know where they came from.” She paused then. “I’m surprised your mother didn’t tell you about him.”
“Well, she didn’t.”
His answer was blunt, his tone a warning, and she heeded it. She’d touched a raw nerve.
