And then there was Alar.
Just thinking about him made her stomach burn.
Ironically, she had some things to thank the prick for. Their marriage had helped forge her. It had toughened her up. Even though his support had all been mummery, she’d believed in it at the time. It had allowed her to step into her own power. Bythe time his betrayal happened, she’d been stronger. Surer of herself. Despite hardships and obstacles, leadership had been much easier ever since.
But now, thanks to Mor, the earth shifted beneath her feet.
After besting the Baldeen army, she’d been unwavering in her resolve. She’d had a plan. She understood what she needed to do and had been ready to do it. But this new development changed everything.
“The idea of allying myself with you and the Half-blood doesn’t overjoy me either,” Mor said then, irritation lacing her voice now. “If there were another way, I’d have taken it.”
Lara pulled a face. “Can you assure me it’ll work … this binding between the three of us?”
Mor shook her head. “Nothing is certain. However, with you as our anchor bearing the ring, we have a strong chance.” She paused then, impatience flickering across her features. “We shall be traveling fast and light. We must, if we wish to reach The Shattered Crown by Gateway. I have only my most loyal Ravens with me … I suggest you choose just a handful of warriors and druids to accompany you. Send everyone else home.”
Lara tensed. Mor was talking as if she’d already agreed, and she hadn’t. The Shee queen was making sense—nonetheless, she’d never traveled without an army before. It would make her vulnerable.
When she didn’t reply, Mor huffed another sigh. “If this is going to work, you’ll have to trust me a little.”
Lara’s pulse quickened.
Trust is a blade offered hilt-first—dangerous to give, deadly to refuse.Her chief-seer had told her that, and she’d replied that trust was just betrayal waiting for the right moment.
A year on, and she still stood by her response.
Where had trusting someone ever gotten her? Hurt by her father. Abused by her first husband and betrayed by her second. Abandoned by her overkings. But the need to trust was forever raising its head. And now, she was supposed to put her faith in her enemy so they could work toward a common goal.
Suddenly, she was standing on the edge of a cliff with nothing but darkness beneath her. The future was yet untold, but she wasn’t powerless. She had a chance to make a difference.
Long moments passed, the weight of gazes pressing down upon her. Everyone, her own people and the Ravens standing behind Mor, was awaiting her answer.
Lara glanced at Bree, their eyes locking for a few moments. “Very well,” she said finally, even as her heartbeat thumped in her ears. “I’ll do it.”
“Your warriors aren’t happy, My Queen.” Roth’s announcement made Lara’s fingers tighten around her wooden cup. She stood before a roaring fire in Cobblebrae. Her army had put up tents inside the new palisade overnight, but she and her advisors had gathered around a hearth outdoors. Her council members all nursed cups of warmed wine, their expressions drawn in the flickering firelight.
“That’s because you’re making a mistake,” Gregor ground out. The chief-sacrificer’s battered face was set in severe lines this evening. He spoke with a slight lisp through swollen lips. “One weallwill regret.”
A gust of wind shoved at her back, making the flames gutter. The Sweeper had pushed the rain clouds and mist away, yet daysof rain had left the air heavy. And all the while, the Weeper continued her lament. But this time, the strains of another voice, female and melodious, joined it. Ren had climbed up onto the watchtower on the palisade and now sang a soothing sain.
I already do.Pain thumped through Lara’s temples at the thought of the first stop they’d be making, and the man who waited for her there. The next time she saw the Half-blood was supposed to be on a battlefield. Gods, how this would choke her.
Pushing aside her churning thoughts, she took a sip from her cup. She usually enjoyed plum wine, yet tonight, it tasted sour. “It wasn’t an easy decision, Gregor.”
“They’re calling you a traitor.” He stared her down across the fire. “They’re saying your father would never have had dealings with the Raven Queen.”
“They’re wrong on both counts,” she shot back, anger rising in a red tide. “I’m doing this for them. And we’re in this mess because of my father’s choices. Don’t compare me to him and expect me to hang my head. I won’t.”
Silence followed. Gregor looked as if he’d just swallowed a mouthful of nails.
Lara glared at him.Gods. Belligerent prick. She wished she didn’t need the chief-sacrificer on this journey—that she could send him back to Duncrag with the rest of her army the following morning. As Mor had suggested, she was bringing a small group with her: Bree, Cailean, Roth, Annis, Ruari, Ren … and Gregor. No one else.
A savage howl cut through the village then.
Across the fire, Annis started, wine sloshing from her cup. “The Hag’s scythe,” the chief-counselor gasped. “What was—”
“It came from the direction of the Shee camp,” Lara replied.
Another howl followed, this one filled with rage.
