Eventually, Alar raised his head, eyes opening. Steeling himself, he looked at his wife.
She stared back. Her cheeks glistened in the light of the glowing lantern. Earlier, when she’d come, it had flared bright. He’d barely noticed though. He’d been too far gone. And now, his chest constricted. She was weeping.
Swallowing, he raised a hand, brushing away the tears with his knuckles.
Before meeting this woman, words had come easily to Alar. But now they deserted him. He couldn’t apologize—not after his disastrous attempt earlier. He couldn’t make light of this though, or pretend everything was fine.
It wasn’t.
They’d both needed this, but sex couldn’t fix what was broken between them. It couldn’t rewrite the past. He didn’t know what to say.
“This never happened,” Lara whispered finally.
He nodded, even as his gut clenched. “Is that what you want?”
“Aye.”
Their gazes fused. “Then I will respect your wishes,” he said, hating how wooden he sounded. “I will also keep my distance from now on.”
Her pine-green eyes glittered.Fuck. He couldn’t leave things like this.
“I swear it on my mother’s memory … but know this.” Catching her hand in his, he lifted it to his lips, kissing the back of it gently. “You’re the only beautiful thing in this Gods-forsaken world.”
Lara entered the roundhouse first. Alar would wait outside for a while. The hearth glowed at the heart of the space. Slumbering bodies, wrapped in cloaks, lay around it. Skaal had stretched out before Cailean and Bree’s alcove, her snores rumbling through the shadowed interior.
Lara darted for her own alcove, pushing the curtain aside and letting it fall behind her.
And only then did she let herself go. Hands lifting to her face, she lowered herself to the sheepskin rug. The dyke gave way, and hot tears coursed down her cheeks. A sob clawed up her throat, but she choked it down.
No. She couldn’t crumble.
The Shattered Crown awaited her, and so did an important task. The shadows that were slowly smothering Albia had to be driven back. The rift her ancestors had made had to be mended. She couldn’t focus on anything else.
She wouldn’t let him break her.
But tears still flowed, and the ache in her chest was almost unbearable. It was just as well she was strong, for life seemed intent on testing her mettle. Tonight, she walked upon a knife-edge edge though. Her defenses were brittle, and her frenzied coupling with Alar had left her fragile.
Hiccoughing, she climbed to her feet and did her best to scrub away her tears. “Pull yourself together, woman,” she whispered. “You’ve cried enough over him.”
She moved then over to the shelf where her rosewood figurines sat. Their polished surfaces gleamed in the light of the flickering cresset on the wall above.
Lara picked up the figurine of The Mother. Then, whispering a heartfelt prayer, she brought the idol to her lips, kissing it lightly. That was a mistake, for the gesture reminded her of Alar’s in that dusty storehouse. The pain in his eyes had been raw. The huskiness of his voice had betrayed him.
Heat washed over her as she recalled how she’d lost control. Her rage had felt good initially. Righteous. But then it had slid into desperation. Need.
I will always be sorry that I can never rebuild what I broke.
Gods. The anguish in his voice.
Tears rolled down her cheeks once more. She squeezed her eyes shut, her fingers tightening around the figurine.
“Hold fast,” she whispered.
27: KEEPING HIS WORD
REEDAV SHIFTED BENEATH Alar, snorting and tossing his head. Alar leaned forward and stroked the stag’s muscular neck with firm, steady pressure. “Easy,” he murmured. “We’ll move when I say.”
The stag settled. Barely. His muscles still coiled like springs ready to release.
