Page 83 of The Queen and the Half-blood
Alar halted before her, his expression inscrutable. “Your army awaits your command.”
The wind pushed Lara’s hood back and whipped strands of hair into her eyes. Sighing, she gave up trying to fight The Whistle. It had serenaded them all morning; its icy breath made her cheeks tingle.
She was relieved to be on her way though. Bracken’s step was lively. The mare was enjoying being on the road again. After leaving Duncrag, they now rode through a woodland of sycamore, ash, and oak.
The western edge of the Shiel Range rose up to her right, etched sharply against the blue sky. Once those mountains lay behind them, they’d leave The Wolds and enter the borderlands. However, this stretch of highway was relatively safe.
The Shee held no sway here, and the chieftain of Dulross had done an admirable job of protecting his territory farther north. The trouble would likely come once they entered The Goatfells.
Misgiving feathered down Lara’s spine. No word had ever come from her emissaries. The Circines wouldn’t be the allies she’d hoped for.
“You’re quiet this morning,” Bree noted then.
Rousing herself from her thoughts, Lara glanced over at her. “Just readying myself for what’s to come.”
Bree nodded, even as her brow furrowed. “Any concerns?”
Lara snorted. “Plenty.”
“Is your husband among them?”
Lara stiffened, her gaze shifting to where Alar rode up ahead. He was out of earshot, and the whine of the wind made it difficult for even those nearby to overhear them. All the same, she responded cautiously. “Always.”
Bree’s gaze glinted. “He’s done something to offend you, hasn’t he?”
Lara huffed a sigh. She’d hoped Bree wouldn’t bring this up again. “No,” she lied. “I’m just aware that a woman in power has to be careful.”
“Aye … I’m sure Mor would agree with you.”
Lara’s lips thinned. She didn’t like being compared to the Raven Queen. Nonetheless, Bree had a point. Mor was ruthless. She’d even had Bree assassinate her brother when she discovered he was plotting against her.
“Mor has never co-ruled, has she?” she asked after a pause.
“No.” Bree’s tone turned rueful. “She would never share power … besides, no male has the spine to equal her.”
Lara’s breathing grew shallow, fire igniting under her ribs. One day, she wanted people to say the same thing about her.
Toward the end of the first day of travel, they reached the village of Ardroth. It was tiny, little more than a scattering of squat roundhouses gathered around a dirt square. But as Lara rode in, she marked the damage to the sod roofs.
Gaunt-faced villagers emerged from their homes to catch a glimpse of the High Queen. However, many of them shrank back, their expressions slackening in shock when they spied the wulvers marching behind her.
“All is well,” she called out. “The wulvers are our friends!”
Murmurs and oaths rippled through the crowd.
As Lara passed through the market ground at the village’s heart, a woman approached her. Barefoot, her dark hair matted, she was wild-eyed. A small infant wailed in her arms.
Raising her hand to signal to the others to halt, she drew up her mare. A rumble of voices rippled out behind her, as her warriors called to those following to stop. “Is your bairn ill?”
The woman swallowed. “He hasn’t been right since a boggart tried to smother him two nights ago. He just cries and cries.”
Lara’s pulse leaped.Boggarts?She’d heard plenty of tales about them, none of them pleasant. They were broonies—a household spirit—who’d turned vengeful, usually because of ill-treatment. Observing the young woman’s drawn face, Lara couldn’t imagine what she’d done to offend one.
“Boggarts have plagued us ever since Gateway,” an old man, likely a village elder, spoke up then. Frail and bent, he leaned heavily on his cane. He kept stealing nervous glances at the wulvers. “I woke up last night with one sitting on my chest, its clammy fingers pinching my nose. When I pushed it off me, the boggart screamed insults in my face.”
A chill skated down Lara’s spine. Things were bad enough in Duncrag. Outside the capital’s walls, things were wilder than she’d thought. And The Unforgiven weren’t the only restless spirits out after dark these days. She glanced back at the womanwith the bairn. “I have healers with me. They can take a look at your son … and make sure nothing is ailing him.”
The woman dipped her head, clutching the howling infant to her breast. “Thank you, My Queen.”
