Page 63 of The Queen and the Half-blood
One of the enforcers barked at her, warning her to keep working, but she ignored him. Instead, her baleful gaze drilled into Alar. She likely hadn’t forgiven him for branding her with his iron blade back in Doure.
Moving out of the shadow of the storehouse, he approached her.
“Watch yourself,” an enforcer warned gruffly. “I wouldn’t get too close … these goat-eyed fuckers move like greased eels.”
Alar nodded, taking the man’s point. He halted a few yards distant from Fern, his right hand rising to the grip of one of his daggers. A warning.
A nerve flickered on her smooth cheek. “Come to gloat, have you?”
“Not at all.”
Around them, the noise of the others working—the scrape and squelch, and the creaking of wooden barrows—mingled with therumble of a busy fort. They stood apart from the other prisoners and the watching druids. If they kept their voices low, they wouldn’t be overheard.
Fern studied him for a few moments before uncertainty flared in her eyes.
Alar knew why. “I look likehim, don’t I?”
She jolted. “What?”
“It was dark when we fought … maybe you didn’t get a proper look at my face. But when I learned your name, I knew.”
Her fingers tightened around the shovel she gripped. She looked like she wanted to swing it in his face. “You speak in riddles,” she growled.
Alar held her gaze, tension coiling between them.
Is this wise?He checked himself then. He shouldn’t be here—but when he’d found himself at the middens, he’d been unable to stop himself. In truth, ever since he’d heard the name ‘Sablebane’, it had lodged in his head and given him no peace.
Turn around and leave.
Wise advice, but he didn’t heed it.
“Look closely at my face again,” he murmured. “Whom do I remind you of?”
Her slender throat worked, her slitted eyes narrowing as she stared back. And then, when her chest hitched, he knew she’d made the connection. “No,” she whispered, her voice brittle now. “Itcan’tbe.”
Alar’s chest clenched. He’d spent a lifetime being treated as an aberration. He was used to it, but the horror in her eyes cut deep. Moments passed, and then he forced a smile. “It is.”
“Cailean tells me you took a walk this afternoon.”
Alar glanced up from where he’d been watching the flames dance in the hearth. He and Lara had retired to their alcove after supper and were relaxing together before bed. However, it hadn’t taken his wife long to pounce. “Aye … I saw the two enforcers tailing me earlier,” he replied, even as irritation speared him.
He’d known this conversation was coming, but wasn’t in the mood for it.
“Why did you leave the broch without an escort?”
“I don’t need one.”
“Maybe not before you married me … but now you do.” Seated opposite him, her slender fingers tightened around the cup of wine she held. “You can’t just wander where you want anymore.”
His irritation slid into annoyance.
He wouldn’t have his movements restricted, even by her.
Sensing his rising temper, her brows arched. “What did you have to discuss with Fern Sablebane?”
He sighed, leaning back in his chair and crossing a booted ankle across his left knee. Here was the real reason she’d brought up this subject. “Aren’t I allowed to have any secrets?”
“No,” she replied. “Not any longer.”
