Mor and Dorka also provided a welcome distraction.
“She’s going to get on its back,” Alar murmured, dumping his whin bush near the fire. “Look.”
Indeed, Mor moved forward, one hand sliding along Dorka’s neck to her shoulder.
The feline had relaxed now though. Her tail no longer swished, and the rigidity of her spine had softened.
“I don’t understand why this matters to her so much,” Roth muttered.
“For a Shee ruler to ride a clag-doo carries much prestige,” Fern replied, favoring him with an arch look. “If Mor can gentle Dorka, she will earn herself great respect among our people.”
Roth raised an auburn brow. “Doesn’t she have their respect already?”
Fern sneered at him. “Of course.”
Lara glanced back at where Mor now ran her hand gently along Dorka’s spine. Realization dawned then. This wasn’t about prestige or respect for the Raven Queen, but about something far more primal. As a ruler herself, Lara understood. To rule was to be alone. A queen always had to be on her guard. But if this clag-doo would submit to Mor, would agree to carry her on itsback, she’d have a special relationship with it. Intimacy. Something of her own.
Ren sang on, her soft song drifting through the gathering dusk.
Mor took her time. Continuing to stroke Dorka’s plush black coat until she purred. And then, gathering her skirts, she climbed onto her back.
The feline stiffened, her long tail starting to whip from side to side.
“Stop singing,” Mor called to Ren. “I need to touch minds with her.”
The bard ceased, dropping her hands to her sides.
As Lara looked on, Mor reached forward, stroking Dorka’s neck. “That’s it, my lovely,” she murmured. “Listen to me … trust me. We shall be friends, you and I.”
A shiver rippled through Dorka’s sinewy body. And then, she made an odd chirping sound. “Pass me the chain,” Mor said then, glancing Ren’s way once more.
The bard hesitated, clearly wary of coming any closer to those deadly jaws and claws.
However, Mor nodded to her, and she did as asked, retrieving the end of the chain and handing it to her. She then backed away, joining Lara and the others by the fireside.
Dorka threw back her head then and gave a loud howl.
The surrounding Shee muttered oaths. Some of them even reached for their weapons. But an instant later, Dorka leaped forward. The Ravens rushed toward the clag-doo. It was too late, for she bounded up the mountain path, disappearing within moments with Mor clinging to her back.
“Well, that’s it,” Roth murmured, watching clag-doo and rider go. “We won’t see either of them again.”
But the Raven Queen wasn’t so easily rid of.
They were sitting by the fire pit, while the carcasses of the hares and the boar sizzled, when she appeared once more—still astride Dorka’s back.
Mor’s Ravens rose smoothly to their feet, their gazes riveted upon their queen.
Mor flashed them a grin.
“Well played, cousin,” Vyr greeted her, approval shining in his dark eyes.
Nodding to him, Mor slid to the ground and led Dorka over to where a dead hare had been left for her. She then looped the chain around the hawthorn. Eagal still perched upon a branch, glaring down at the clag-doo. After that, she joined everyone at the fireside, dropping down into a cross-legged position with loose-limbed ease next to Alar.
He glanced at her, surprised. As was Lara. Mor usually took her place amongst her Ravens in the evenings. However, when Lara’s gaze slid around the fire pit, she realized they were no longer segregated. Sablebane and Fern sat with Ruari and Annis, and Vyr had taken his place to Lara’s left, while Bree and Cailean sat to her right.
Had last night’s near disaster shaken them? Maybe. The atmosphere had definitely shifted. For the first time since setting out together, they seemed like one group rather than two.
Eagal swooped down then, landing upon Mor’s shoulder. She reached up a hand, stroking his back in greeting. “I timed my return well, I see,” she said, glancing over at where Eithne and Duana were gingerly removing the hare carcasses from the spits. Her gaze then flicked to Ren. “My thanks to you, bard.”
