He snorted.
Meanwhile, Ruari roused himself, reached for a saddlebag, and started digging around. “Those scratches need tending. I’ll fetch you something.”
Lara listened to the murmurs of their voices as Ruari located the dried woundwort and mashed up a paste with a little water in his pestle and mortar. However, she was listening to them as if from afar. Her fever had broken again, yet she found herself strangely lightheaded. Distracted.
“Lara.” Alar gently nudged her with his elbow. “Mor just asked you something.”
She blinked and forced herself to focus. “Sorry,” she muttered. She then met Mor’s gaze across the fire. “What did you say?”
A groove etched between the queen’s brows as she watched Lara. The intensity of her stare made Lara’s skin prickle.
“You’re often leagues away when the rest of us are talking,” Mor said. “Is something worrying you?”
Lara sighed, rubbing her eyes, gritty and sore from fatigue, with the back of her hands. “I’m fine.”
“No, you aren’t. I’ve noticed how distracted you are … but it’s getting worse.”
Lara’s pulse quickened as everyone around the fire now watched her.
Curse it. Of course, she’d already spoken to some of her escort about this—but discussing it so openly made her uneasy. Vulnerable. However, judging by the stubborn set of Mor’s jaw, she wasn’t going to let this go.
“Aye … I’m not myself at the moment,” she admitted after a long pause. “My mind is muddled. I’m often exhausted. Feverish. Every day, there are now periods I can’t remember.”
Mor’s frown deepened. “Fire-madness.”
Lara leaned forward. “I know little about the power that burns in my veins. But you discovered scrolls about fire magic in your vaults. What did you learn?”
Mor regarded her for a moment. Eagal sat on her shoulder, roosting. “I read some of the history regarding your bloodline,” she replied finally. “But I don’t recall a remedy for fire-madness. I’m sorry.”
Lara’s breathing grew shallow. “So, it’s incurable?”
“I don’t know.”
“And what happens,” she asked, “As it progresses?”
No one answered. They didn’t need to. Lara was already imagining her descent into madness. Distraction would slide into paranoia, and then into rage. Eventually, she’d see enemies everywhere. Eventually, she’d turn on those she cared for.
“Your dream,” Ruari spoke up then. “The dangerous secret it warned of …”
Lara glanced over at him, aware that the Shee had all tensed. Irritation spiked through her. She’d asked Ruari not to say anything to Mor or her Ravens about her premonition, yet he’d just blurted it out. “Aye,” she snapped. “The one that referred to me?”
“It seems clear now that itwasreferring to fire-madness,” the seer replied, meeting her eye, even as his cheeks flushed. “It’s slowly taking you.”
A fragile silence settled around the hearth.
“Maybe it’s time to stop wielding fire, Lara,” Alar said then, an edge to his voice. “Your symptoms might subside if you do.”
“After our task is complete, I don’t intend to use magic again,” she answered, surprised by the vehemence in her voice. This wasn’t something she’d articulated before, even to herself. It didn’t ease the knots in her belly though, or the tightness in her chest—the fear of what would happen if the fire-madness took hold.
Mor’s gaze met hers across the firepit. “Fire magic is a part of you. Could you resist its lure?”
Lara nodded. If the alternative was madness, she would.
A sickly sensation flooded through her then.What if it’s too late?
Lara’s mind whirled as she retreated into silence.Gods. She didn’t want to think about that. What if she ended up a danger to those she’d sworn to defend? What if her own people—her friends—would be forced to turn on her in the end?
Around her, murmured conversation rose and fell around the firepit. The atmosphere among their band had definitely shifted tonight. Despite her worries, Lara had marked it. Sheeand Marav were still wary of each other—that would likely never change—but today, they’d worked together.
