Page 80 of The Queen and the Half-blood
Lara pursed her lips. “A fire-wielder who doesn’t know what she’s doing.” She swallowed then. “And I’m supposed to be hiding my abilities, remember? Not flaunting them.”
“There are ways to keep the camp secureandkeep your secret.” Alar unfolded his long body from the chair and rose to his feet. He then gestured to where a jug of wine sat next to a stack of wooden cups on the nearby table. “I’m getting another … do you want one?”
She hesitated a moment before giving a stiff nod. She needed to calm down. The broch was secure tonight. Even so, she couldn’t stop thinking about the havoc those vicious spirits were possibly wreaking in the fort. Would they rip apart the dwellings they’d already damaged as they hunted? Would they manage to claw their way into the buildings where Duncrag’s residents sheltered?
Tonight would be endless as she waited to see the damage.
Alar crossed to the table, filled a cup with wine for her, and refilled his own. Their fingers brushed as he handed Lara her drink.
Her breathing hitched.
Her reaction to him unnerved her.
She was both attracted to and repelled by the man she’d married. He was clever and could be surprisingly protective and supportive of her. She liked his irreverent sense of humor, his aura of calm. And often when he looked at her, the intensity of his gaze left her lightheaded and unsettled. Whenever he walked into a space, her gaze tracked him, and sometimes she caughtherself daydreaming about their handfasting night and wishing he’d touch her like that again.
But there was a viciousness to Alar as well.
Like when he’d killed that man. The lout had insulted her—and she’d been about to have him punished for it—but Alar hadn’t shown a shred of remorse after taking his life. Instead, his manner had been aloof ever since.
Even more unsettling was the fact that there was a part of her that didn’t shy away from his darkness.
Moving away from her husband, Lara sat down in her chair opposite him. The howling outdoors rose to a spine-tingling crescendo then, and the flames in the hearth guttered.
Lara’s pulse leaped, and without thinking, she extended a hand toward the fire, clenching her fist and then snapping her fingers straight. The flames roared up toward the smoke vent, and the shrieking subsided.
“How did you learn to do that movement with your hand?” Alar asked, eyeing her as he sat down once more.
She lowered her gaze to the hand in question, frowning. “I don’t know … it’s instinctive. If I clench my fist and focus on the flames, it forms a … connection of sorts. And then, when I straighten my fingers, it seems to do my bidding.”
“Do you have a cairn stone yet?”
She nodded, patting the pouch at her waist, where she kept a lump of smoky quartz. “Mirren found me one … her mother collects such things.” She took a sip of wine then. “Ruari’s been showing me some ‘mind-clearing’ techniques … but I’m not having much success.”
He snorted. “Give yourself some time.”
“That’s the problem. I don’t have any. We’re supposed to be leaving any day now, remember?”
His gaze met hers. “And we shall,” he said firmly. “And we’ll ensure you have the privacy you need to practice every night on the road north. Ruari will help you … and so will I.”
Silence fell in the alcove as their stare drew out.
Lara was the first to look away. “You’re a man of contradictions, Alar.”
“How so?”
“When we first struck our deal, I suspected you’d try to seize power once you got settled at Duncrag … that what you really wanted was my crown. That you were lying to me.” She paused then, forcing herself to meet his eye. “But you’ve stood at my side … encouraged me.”
Discomfort flickered across his proud features.
Warmth stole over her then, embarrassment rising. She should stop talking now, yet she couldn’t seem to prevent herself. “I put on a brave front, but I used to feel a bit like a sheltered princess playing at being High Queen. I feared failure … and the judgment of others. But you treat me like there’s nothing I can’t achieve.”
A pause followed, and Lara’s chest tightened. She couldn’t believe she’d blurted all of that out. His silence made her wish she could haul every word back. Curse her, she’d just handed him a weapon to use against her.
“You give me too much credit,” he said finally, his voice gruff. “I’m not the only one who believes in you.”
“No,” she replied softly. “But you make me feel less alone.”
Alar observed his wife over the rim of his cup.
