“It grows late,” Alar said finally. “We should all get some sleep.”
Many of their group nodded, stifling yawns. It had been a harrowing day; everyone needed to rest. Moments later, they stretched out by the fire, trying to get comfortable on the hard stony ground.
Lara was exhausted too. Despite that the fever had receded for a spell, her limbs felt weak, and her temples ached dully.
Alar rose to his feet then, catching her eye as he did so. He’d sat next to her all evening, and she’d been too distracted, too drained to demand he move elsewhere. It would have seemed petty. However, his proximity now put her on edge.
“You’ll weather this, Lara,” he said, his voice low and firm. “You’re strong … and after we’ve sealed the veil, you won’t have to use your fire magic again. Youwillrecover.”
Her breathing grew shallow at these words, and for a few moments, she let warmth suffuse her. However, she then pulled herself up short. After their handfasting, her husband had believed in her, supported her, encouraged her. Thanks to him, she’d grown in confidence. Blossomed. It had made his betrayal all the harder to take.
His reassurance now was a slap across the face. She’d agreed to be his ally, but he’d just overstepped.
“And you’ll be there to hold my hand, will you?”
His gaze shadowed. “I—”
“Save it.” Turning her back on him, she rose to her feet and went looking for somewhere else to sleep.
Lying on her back, Lara stared up at the night sky. Around her, everyone else was sleeping—everyone except Alar and Fern, who’d taken the first watch—yet she silently fumed.
The gall of him.
She knew his game. It was the same one he’d played the year before. Her husband couldn’t open his mouth without manipulating others. It came as naturally to him as breathing. And worse still, for a heartbeat, she’d been drawn to his words.
Above, the mist had cleared, and this high up, the belt of twinkling stars looked close enough to touch. The moon was well over half full now, a reminder that Gateway was breathing down their necks.
Nearby, the fire crackled, while a low rumble reverberated across the mountainside. A growled curse followed, and then the noise abruptly halted. Despite her black mood, Lara’s lips curved. Skaal snored like a hibernating trow. Over the past days, Cailean had often been forced to nudge the fae hound with his foot.
Her smile faded then, her temper smoldering once more. Not at Alar this time, but herself.
Don’t let the bastard get to you.
Every time she snarled at him, she played into his hands. She had to master herself. She had to crush that ember of longing that burned deep in her breast.
The rumbling started up again, and Lara stifled a groan. Skaal would keep them all awake tonight.
However, the noise grew louder, rolling in waves over the mountainside. Moments later, the ground started to tremble. Nearby, the horses squealed and pulled at their tethers, while Dorka yowled.
Something pinged off Lara’s cheek then. A sharp sting followed.
Cursing, she rolled onto her side as a rock the size of her fist punched into the ground where her head had just been.
Her heart lurched, and she rolled to her feet. Around her, some of the others sat up, dazed.
“Rockslide!” Alar shouted as he and Fern rushed to the fireside. “Run!”
There was no time to grab their bags. They scrambled away from the fire to free the horses. Mor dashed across to Dorka. Luckily, the elks and stags all roamed free overnight.
The rumbling grew louder, deeper.
Lara rushed to Bracken, untying her and hauling the mare after her. As she went, she looked over her shoulder and froze.
Moonlight frosted the mountainside, illuminating the craggy slope above their campsite as it gave way. Rocks, debris, and dirt rolled toward them in a great wave.
Her breathing hitched. It was the end of the world.
Alar materialized beside her, blood trickling down his forehead. Wordlessly, he vaulted onto Bracken’s bare back and grabbed Lara’s hand, hauling her up in front of him in one wrenching motion.
