Page 94 of Ashes of Betrayal

“Aye, well, luckily for you, I’ve been busy,” he replied with a wry smile. “I’ve got a fire burning nearby … and a haunch of venison roasting. It was Mid-Winter Fire, after all.”

She rewarded him with a grin. “Welcome news, indeed.” She paused then, glancing around at the swirling snow. “I suppose we should build a shelter. We won’t be going anywhere in this blizzard.”

Cailean smiled. “Fear not … that’s already taken care of too.” With that, he scooped her up in his arms once more and turned, heading toward the tree line.

Silently, Feannag and Skaal followed.

Bree laughed, even as she wound her arms around his neck. “What are you up to?”

He grinned down at her. “You’ll see soon enough.”

And with that, he carried her into the woods.

EPILOGUE: HOLDING FAST

Four moons later …

“DON’T GRIP THE blade so tightly, Lara.”

“Very well … like this?”

“Better … but hold it lower, and closer to your body. Otherwise, I can do this.”

Like a striking adder, Bree’s hand shot out, her fingers folding around Lara’s slender wrist, holding it fast. Aye, she no longer had Shee reflexes, but she was still quick.

Lara made a frustrated sound in the back of her throat. “Cods!”

“I made the same error, Your Highness,” Mirren quipped. The maid, who was busy folding clothes in the corner of the wide alcove, wore a solemn expression, although her blue eyes twinkled. “We all think waving a blade in an assailant’s face is the way to scare them off.”

The High Queen flashed her handmaid an irritated look yet didn’t contradict her.

Swallowing a smile, Bree moved Lara’s wrist down so that it was level with her belly and pushed it closer to the High Queen’s torso. She then adjusted her grip on the handle. “The trick,” she added. “Is to keep moving. That way, you’ll be much harder to stab.”

Lara muttered an unqueenly curse, causing Mirren to still in her folding and Bree to raise an eyebrow. “Maybe I should give up these lessons … I feel like a bumbling fool.”

“Everyone does when they start,” Bree reminded her. “But you’ve already learned how to defend yourself with your fists … and do so well. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Lara nodded, although her expression remained strained.

In the moons since Bree had stepped into the role of her warder and advisor, she’d noticed Lara had grown increasingly critical of herself. The woman barely slept. Every eve, she stayed up late studying the scrolls that Gil dug up for her or meeting with her druidic council.

The Shee still held the north, although they’d been silent ever since the battle just after Gateway. Ominously so. Aye, they hadn’t expected an attack during the bitter season—for moving an army through snowstorms would have been foolish indeed—but now that the weather was warming up, the atmosphere in Duncrag grew tense.

Lara knew that Mor was preparing herself for another campaign—as such, she’d spent the winter and most of the spring, so far, rebuilding her armies. New overkings sat on the thrones of Braewall and Baldeen, cousins of those who’d fallen at Cannich. Lara had worked hard to conscript more men and women, to replace the many warriors Albia had lost. They’d also had to train them swiftly to strengthen the defenses at the new border forts of Dulross and Doure.

No word had come from the northern Uplands though—Strath, Rothie, and Morae—so it seemed that those places too had fallen to the Shee.

It had been a difficult time. Lara had yet to prove herself as the High Queen. Word arrived regularly of just how low morale was throughout The Wolds; especially since those in southernAlbia learned that the hill-tribes and faery creatures had sided with the Shee.

“I feel as if I’m standing still when I should be running,” Lara admitted then. “The waiting is getting to me.”

“Your people are calling for you to take back The Uplands, Your Highness,” Mirren said then, her brow furrowing. “Will you?”

Lara’s lips thinned, a hard glint appearing in her pine-green eyes. “Aye.” Not for the first time, the look reminded Bree of the High Queen’s father, Talorc mac Brude. She’d inherited little from her sire—save a stubborn streak and a vindictive edge that surfaced occasionally.

The latter concerned Bree a little. Talorc mac Brude’s insatiable hunger for reckoning had been his undoing, and striking off his former master’s head hadn’t brought Cailean the satisfaction he’d craved either. Revenge was a double-edged sword.

Aye, their recent defeat had caused something dark to take root inside of Lara, and if she wasn’t careful, it would consume her.

---