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Not well though. Twice he’d jerked awake in the cave, convinced he’d heard the rattle of iron chains. Those shackles had begun to feel like an extension of his physical body. It still felt odd to be able to move freely and not take short, awkward steps.
Nonetheless, he didn’t mind that the others slumbered now.
He needed to think, anyway.
Cern had slipped away for the night; meanwhile, Rùn and Thicket snorted nearby as they shifted position under the branches of a nearby oak.
Darach cast his stallion an affectionate look. He’d missed Rùn over the past moons. Indeed, he’d thought he’d lost him and had been sorry. But it seemed the stallion had found Fern on that fateful night. She’d looked after him since then.
It was quiet out here in the wilderness. You could almost believe they were the only people alive. The Wolds were peaceful at night too, but the silence here was deeper and the darkness heavier. Every creak of a branch made him glance over his shoulder.
He wondered where those warriors his brother had sent had made camp. Had they gained ground or fallen further behind? They needed to stay vigilant.
He remembered that strange glen they’d passed earlier in the day, the home of the Bean Liath. He’d never heard of such a faerie. But, like the others, he’d taken Fern at her word.
His hand lifted slowly then, his fingers brushing the hilt of the sword he’d strapped across his back, where the pommel rose just above his shoulder. The leather strap rubbed against his sore ribs.
The darkness shouldn’t put him on edge, but it did. He couldn’t help but feel as if he was intruding on someone else’s land.
“Nervous?” a familiar, slightly amused voice intruded then.
Whipping around, Darach saw Fern stalking toward him, her boots barely whispering on the damp ground.
The sudden movement had pulled painfully at his side, and he frowned. “What are you doing up?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” she answered. “I haven’t rested easily for years now, so I thought you might like some company.”
He didn’t actually, but didn’t want to appear rude. “I suppose so.”
“Also,” she said, halting next to him, her keen gaze sweeping the surrounding darkness, “I thought, as a southerner, this place might make you uneasy.”
“Aye, it does.” His lips thinned then as he glared out into the night. “However, I’m ready for whatever lurks out there.”
Fern cast a thoughtful look in his direction. “I’ve no doubt,” she murmured. Was he imagining it, or did he hear a note of grudging respect in her voice? “You’re still standing,” she added then. “Many wouldn’t be.”
Darach’s lips curved. “Most people don’t have deep reserves of hate to call upon.”
Fern inclined her head. “That’s why you’re going to fight for the High Queen … for revenge?”
“I am.” He didn’t bother to deny it. Instead, he deliberately hardened his voice.
He waited then for her to frown or say something about vengeance being for fools, but she didn’t. “He’s got it coming,” she replied with a shrug. “I hope you get to meet him eye to eye and give him what he deserves.”
Darach smiled. Her lack of judgment was refreshing. However, it was time they turned the conversation away from him. “How’s the arm?” he asked, gesturing to the fresh bandage Kayla had wrapped around it earlier.
Fern waved him away, as if the question irritated her. “Healing nicely. Thank you.” She ran a speculative eye over him. “You’re still favoring your left side.”
He pulled a face. “Bruised ribs take their time … for Marav at least.”
She nodded.
“So,” he said after a pause, determined to keep the focus on her, “The infamous Half-blood is your brother?”
To be honest, ever since Fern had revealed her connection to the prince consort, he’d wanted to ask her more.
“We share the same father.” Her tone shifted then, wariness creeping in. “He met a comely Marav lass in the woods, and Alar was the result. I didn’t know about him until a few years ago … and when I discovered that I had a half-brother, I can’t say I was pleased.” She heaved a sigh then. “But we traveled together to the North to face those marauding spirits at The Shattered Crown, and somewhere along the way … he grew on me.”
Darach smiled once more. “Sounds to me like you might be fond of him?”
