WHAT ARE YOU doing?
Urging Bracken down the rocky hill toward where a burn sparkled in the silvery autumn light, Lara berated herself. Had she lost her wits? She’d had her chance to send Alar away. Their alliance had ended. The deed was done. But instead, she’d asked him to accompany them south.
Of course, she knew why.
She loved him.
Her pulse quickened, memories of that betrayal haunting her once more. The shock that had punched into her stomach, the slowly dawning realization that she’d been played. His face ashe’d stood in the rain before her. Unrepentant. Scornful. Those memories were etched upon her forever.
Queasiness rolled over her then. Could she ever forgive that?
Don’t think about him, she told herself firmly.You’re alive. The rift is closed.Focus on what you’ve achieved.
An exhausted yet companionable silence had settled between the small group as they left the Darkmere behind them. They were all drained, all happy to travel without making conversation. Lara rode alone, deliberately so; she needed time to sort her thoughts out. Half a furlong ahead, Alar led their band, Reedav’s long stride easily outpacing everyone else, while the others traveled in twos and threes behind him.
Despite that they were in the far north and winter now breathed down their necks, the sun held a surprising amount of warmth this morning. It soaked into her back and warmed her limbs. After days of fever, weakness, and a muddled brain, it was a relief to feel like herself again. The clouds had literally parted.
And despite that Alar kept intruding on her thoughts, relief glowed deep in her chest.
We did it.
After so many disappointments and defeats, something had finally gone right. Spirits still dwelled in Albia—as they always had—but its people would no longer dread the night. Nor would malevolent wraiths hunt them. Lara could now focus on other things. On dealing with her overkings properly. On uniting the south of Albia, at least.
And what about the borderlands?The wulvers and the Circines could prove a thorn in her side.
She pursed her lips, irritated that she couldn’t just let herself enjoy this moment.One problem at a time.
Her gaze traveled forward once more, settling again on Alar’s back.
She could spend the day ruminating, or she could face him. What was it to be?
Making her choice, she urged Bracken forward then, into a rapid canter. The mare leaped the burn at the bottom of the hill and raced up the other side, drawing alongside Alar and his stag.
He glanced her way. “Lara.”
“Alar.”
He looked rough, as if he’d been trampled by a clutch of trows. A bruise marked one cheekbone, and his eyes were hollowed. Crusting scratches marred his shoulders and arms. His long black hair spilled in a tangled mane down his back. His right arm was in a sling, and his left hand thickly bound with a bandage.
“How’s the shoulder?” It was an inane thing to ask, but she was suddenly nervous.
He grimaced, giving Lara her answer. His gaze then roamed over her face. “And how areyou?”
“Better,” she admitted.
His brow furrowed. “So, the fire-madness … has it gone?”
Uneasiness shifted in her belly. She’d tried not to think about that. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “Maybe … we know so little about the effects of fire magic on the wielder.”
“Don’t use it then,” he said, alarm flaring in his eyes. “There’s no need.”
“I don’t intend to,” she replied huskily. “Although my reign so far hasn’t been easy … fire was a useful weapon in a tight spot.”
“Then let me stay by your side … to help protect you.”
Lara’s heart started to pound. “Why would you—”
“We can’t go back to how things were.” His voice lowered, urgency in it now. “I can’t be your husband any longer … but I could be yourwarder, like Bree.”
