Page 84 of The Queen and the Half-blood
Lara nodded back, even as her belly hardened. It was but a small gesture. Not enough.
“The Weeper wails outside after dusk,” another woman called out from the crowd that now gathered. “Are we all doomed?”
“No,” Lara replied firmly, her pulse skittering. Like the Ben Neeya, the Weeper was a harbinger of death. Usually, her appearance—although unwelcome—was rare. “These are troubling times, but they will pass.” She paused then, before announcing, “I am traveling north … to take back our lands from the Shee.”
Murmurs of approval rippled through the crowd of villagers. Their brows smoothed, and their gazes brightened. It warmed her to see hope spark in their eyes.
“It isn’t just the Shee we fear, My Queen,” the elderly man said then, his eyes, milky with cataracts, fixing upon her. “What if the Slew attack us again?”
“Or the botach starts stealing away our children?” The woman holding the bairn clasped him closer to her breast.
Lara’s breathing grew shallow. She glanced then to where her husband had drawn up his horse a few yards ahead. Alar had twisted in the saddle to observe her exchange with the villagers. Her pulse quickened when she noted the tension on his face.
Few things rattled the Half-blood. But if he looked worried, then she should be as well.
She shifted her attention back to the waiting crowd. They were looking to her for answers, and she had to allay their fears. “Once we drive back the Shee, balance may be restored,” she replied, wishing she knew that for sure. “But even if it isn’t, I swear, I will do everything I can to ensure your safety.”
30: JUSTIFY NOTHING. REGRET NOTHING.
THE WEEPER WAILED as Lara walked through the camp, flanked by Bree and Alar. The folk of Ardroth weren’t the only ones being paid a visit. The wraith’s mournful cry was awful—harrowing grief distilled into one drawn-out howl.
Bree muttered a curse under her breath, although Alar remained silent. Nonetheless, there was a harshness to his profile that betrayed him.
Few could listen to The Weeper and not let sorrow and foreboding overwhelm them.
The spirit was somewhere in the oakwood to the west. Corpse candles glowed amongst the trees there too, although Lara was careful to keep her gaze averted.
It was late, and their encampment was quiet, watchful. Torches burned around the perimeter, and the enforcers had laid ward stones before Ren and her bards wove a protection sain. Gregor and his sacrificers had done their bit too, beheading pigeons and chanting to the Gods as they spread their entrails.
Fortunately, the Slew hadn’t appeared, although it had been a breathless wait at dusk.
The news from Ardroth had no doubt made its way through her army. Until recently, it was faerie creatures, Mor’s allies, they’d been wary of. But now the restless dead and other wicked spirits were the ones stirring up trouble.
The trio wove their way through the press of tents toward a circle of supply wagons. All three of them were cloaked and hooded, shadows in the darkness. There, they slipped between two canopied wagons and ducked into a large pavilion that had been erected beyond.
Within, Lara found Cailean and Ruari waiting for her. The druid stood before a brightly burning brazier.
This was where she’d continue her fire-wielding practice.
Halting before the brazier, Lara pushed back her hood and held out her hands, warming her fingers over the flames. A clear, crisp day had given way to a cold night; a frost was settling outdoors. She glanced around then at the four individuals who now watched her, and frowned. “I didn’t expect to do this with an audience.”
Indeed, until Gateway, she’d only ever played with fire in private.
She wasn’t sure she could ‘perform’ while being watched—especially with Alar present. She didn’t want him here, yet he’d insisted.
“Just pretend we aren’t here,” her husband drawled.
Lara cut him a sharp look and retrieved her cairn stone from the pouch at her waist. Holding up the chunk of quartz to the light, she stared into its smoky depths. “I still don’t understand how a lump of rock is supposed to help me calm my emotions and focus my thoughts?”
Indeed, she’d tried using it before her departure, with little success.
“I told you,” Ruari answered. “Smoky quartz is grounding and protective.”
Lara glanced the chief-seer’s way. Exasperation flickered in his eyes.
Embarrassed that she’d seen his reaction, the young man dropped his gaze to the grey lump of gleaming stone upon herpalm. “Cairn stones are more powerful than most folk realize, My Queen,” he muttered. “It should help you … contain … your ability.”
Marking the catch in his voice, Lara closed her fingers tightly around the lump of quartz. Ruari had agreed to help her master this, yet he feared her ability to wield fire.
