Page 67 of The Queen and the Half-blood
Lara shook her head. “No … thank you.”
The handmaid put away the hairbrush and scented oil she’d used to help Lara ready herself for the furs and then nodded to both the High Queen and the prince consort. A moment later, she turned and hurried from the alcove.
“I make your maid nervous,” Alar murmured. “Every time I enter a chamber, she leaves.”
Lara sighed. “It’s not you personally. She’s not comfortable around men, that’s all.” She turned to him then, her gaze sliding over the sweat that gleamed off his naked arms. “Didn’t the training go well?”
“Well enough. Why do you ask?”
“You seem … on edge.”
He huffed a sigh. “It was a tougher session than usual, that’s all. Lyall was in an aggressive mood tonight. He bested Dolph and three other opponents before I took my turn with him. He then tried to hammer me into the ground.” Setting his cup down, he reached up and massaged his shoulder before wincing. “I should wash before we retire.”
Lara’s belly did another traitorous wee dip. “There’s fresh water and soap in the bathing alcove.”
He drained the rest of his cup and nodded. A moment later, he disappeared through the curtain into the adjoining chamber.
Telling herself not to be a goose, Lara shrugged off the woolen shawl around her shoulders and hung it from the back of a chair. Then, clad only in a thin sleeveless tunic that reached mid-thigh, she padded across the sheepskins to the sleeping nook and climbed inside.
She was lying on her back, cocooned by furs, when her husband emerged from the bathing alcove. Clad in nothing but a pair of leather breeches, he walked barefoot across the alcove and lowered the iron cover on some of the lamps on the way, dimming the light. His expression had smoothed over now, his gaze no longer troubled.
When he reached the edge of the sleeping nook, he started to unlace his breeches, and Lara hastily cut her gaze away.
She was still looking up at the stone ceiling when he climbed in next to her and covered himself with furs. “The Sweeper has a vicious bite tonight,” he said as he settled himself. “You can tell Gateway is just a couple of days away.”
Lara sighed. Months of dark and bitter cold awaited, yet she wouldn’t spend them huddled around a fire. Instead, she had The Uplands to take back.
“I appreciate you standing by me during our council meetings,” she said, even as heat rose to her cheeks. It embarrassed her to bring this up, yet she couldn’t help herself. Her advisors—especially Annis, Roth, and Gregor—continued to challenge her. “Your advice has been … valuable.”
Silence followed these words, and she inwardly cringed, wondering if she’d just made a fool of herself. She’d told herself she’d never trust a man again, and here she was extending a blade, hilt-first, to her husband.
“You’re making the right choice, Lara,” he replied eventually, and—curse her—her breathing grew shallow under his praise. “This isn’t the time for indecision. A wavering flame is easy to extinguish.”
She grimaced, knowing he couldn’t see her face. “I suppose my father never campaigned in winter.”
“No, it’s not the ‘traditional’ choice … but we have the advantage over the Shee in the cold, and we’d be fools not to use it.” He paused then. “Besides, wulvers are hardy.”
Lara’s mouth curved. She glanced his way, observing his shadowed profile. The sleeping nook was wide, and he lay around three feet from her. “What was it like living amongst them?”
He didn’t answer immediately, and when he did, his voice held a slightly strained edge. “They are my people … they gave me a home when everyone else turned their back on me. They saved me.”
He didn’t look her way, although she turned on her side now, observing him with interest. “They did?”
“Aye … remember that story I told you about how Evin mac Darach strung me up by the throat from that pine … and left me to slowly choke?”
“Aye.” She wouldn’t forget it.
“Well, a wulver named Hrol found me. He’d been out fishing in a nearby burn, and he cut me down.” Alar paused then. “I was half-dead by that stage, but he carried me back to the lair he shared with his mate, and they healed me.”
“And you stayed with the wulvers after that?”
“I did. Hrol and Isa became my family for a long while. I spent summers fishing with them in the deep, cold lochs of the north and wintered in the Hallow Woods with their pack. Dolph is their son.”
“Hrol and Isa are dead now then?”
“Aye … they joined the Hearthkeeper over twenty winters ago.”
Lara considered this story, imagining what it would have been like for him to live amongst people who weren’t his own but who treated him like family. It reflected well on the wulvers. He’d piqued her interest, and she wished to learn more. “Did the wulvers make you their leader voluntarily?”
