The young woman’s spine stiffened. “My name’s Ren.”
Mor flashed her a warm smile. “Your skill with song is quite something,Ren.”
The bard’s cheeks flushed, and she dropped her gaze.
“Will you be riding Dorka from now on then?” Vyr asked.
“Aye … I’ve let my elk know it can return to Sheehallion.”
Fern grinned, nudging her father in the ribs with an elbow. In response, Sablebane’s lips actually tugged up at the corners in a ghost of a smile. Mor’s elation, her success, had buoyed their moods. The other Ravens were all smiling. Likewise, even Lara’s escort wore softer expressions this evening.
Eithne and Duana pulled the carcasses apart and handed them around the fire. The bed-slave collars around their necks caught the ruddy light as they worked. The boar would take longer, for it was a much bigger beast, although the rich scent of it made Lara’s mouth fill with saliva. Her fever was drawing back now, and her aches and pains subsided with it. She was still tired and looked forward to wrapping herself in her fur-lined cloak and stretching out on the ground, but the numbing fatigue was lifting too—and with it the gnawing dread.
At moments like this, she could almost forget there was something wrong with her.
Even so, as conversation rose and fell around the fire pit, she found her mind kept wandering. It was difficult to concentrate. Bree nudged her with an elbow then, passing her a hunk of roast boar.
Lara blinked. Didn’t the boar have a while to cook yet? Her gaze flicked to where Sablebane carved the roasted carcass.
Where did the time go?
She stilled then, cold creeping over her.Shades.It had happened again. She’d had another lapse.
Her chest constricted, her dread sliding into panic.No. I can’t go to pieces … not yet.
She had to hang on—had to keep her wits together long enough to reach The Shattered Crown. Otherwise, she’d let everyone down. Otherwise, the shadows would win.
Feeling queasy, she looked across the fire, her gaze meeting Alar’s for the first time all day. He was watching her. His expression was serious, his eyes slightly narrowed.
Her skin prickled. Curse him, he’d noticed. The Half-blood always saw too much.
21: FOOTSTEPS IN THE FOG
“I HEAR YOU wield earth magic.”
Alar glanced left to find Vyr riding beside him. The path had widened for a spell, drawing back a little from the precipitous edge of the mountain. They’d set off at dawn, with Mor leading the way upon Dorka. A knot of Ravens upon stags and elks followed the queen, with Alar and Vyr behind them. The morning was dull; a helmet of cloud had descended, bringing the sky oppressively close.
As always, Lara and her escort lagged a little farther back.
Alar eyed Mor’s cousin. Clad in black, the silver half-moon stud in his ear glinting despite the lack of sun, he was an enigmaof sorts. Alar had heard about Mor’s acrimonious relationships with kin. Frankly, it was surprising that Vyrnek still breathed. In truth, he was the only one among their Shee companions that Alar had warmed to. “I have few secrets, it seems,” he replied.
Vyr inclined his head. “I’ve watched you fight.” He grimaced then. “And I smelled pine and ash on you … so I asked the chief-enforcer.”
Alar snorted. He wasn’t surprised Lara had told others his secret. After all, he’d revealed hers to his wulvers and the Circines. He imagined Cailean wouldn’t have received the news well; druids didn’t like common folk messing with earth magic. “My tattoo allows me to channel earth magic, to make me faster and stronger.”
“But Shee blood runs through your veins. Earth magic should harm you, not help you.”
“I have Marav blood as well,” Alar replied with a shrug. “It balances things.”
An emotion Alar couldn’t quite place flickered over Vyr’s face. Like his cousin, he had proud aquiline features. “The very smell of earth magic turns my stomach,” he admitted. “And even now, I can feel the bite of iron on my skin from those daggers on your back.” He pulled another face. “Those things have always been our weakness … but if we are here to stay in Albia, that must change.”
Alar observed Mor’s cousin for a few moments. Vyr intrigued him. He wondered then at the cousins’ relationship. They seemed to get on well. However, appearances could deceive. Did Vyr secretly covet the throne? If he did, he wouldn’t be the first of Mor’s kin to consider overthrowing her. Lara had told him about the Raven Queen, and how she’d hunted her brother after he tried to usurp her. The Shee were asruthless as they were beautiful. To rule them was a double-edged blade. You gained power, but you could never let your guard down.
“Why are you here, Vyr?” Alar had conversed little with his companions since fleeing Dulross. Everyone had kept their distance from him, yet he sensed Vyr was ready to talk a little. And, in truth, he was curious to learn about the dynamics between Mor and her cousin. “I don’t imagine Mor suffers rivals.”
The Shee warrior’s lips curved. “She doesn’t … but she chose her escort carefully for this journey. We all have skills she values. Like her, I can wield moonlight and starlight with song.” He winked at Alar then. “Or in other words … I’m useful.”
Alar regarded him speculatively. Aye, he wasn’t sure what to make of Vyr. He appeared easy-going, charming even, yet that wasn’t the whole story. Alar knew what it was to wear a mask—often your survival depended on it.
