Chapter 17 A Break in Hostilities #2
She’d told the seer about her dream, and the changes to it, but he hadn’t yet answered her.
Instead, he appeared deep in thought. Not long after they’d begun the day’s journey, she’d left Bree’s side and reined Bracken alongside Ruari.
All the while, The Gaulas heckled her, yet she did her best to ignore it.
They were lucky that it wasn’t as oppressive as the Heather Path, or none of them would have lasted this far.
“Well?” she pressed, finally losing patience.
Ruari pulled a face. “Fire in dreams can signify many things … but in your case, My Queen, it’s … complicated.”
Her breathing grew shallow. “Aye?”
“Well, apart from the fact you’re a fire-wielder, fire in dreams represents intense emotions … like rage … but also desire and love. Usually, it signifies that these feelings have been repressed.”
Heat washed over Lara. Unfortunately, unlike the night before, she couldn’t hide her embarrassment under the cloak of darkness. She cleared her throat. “Anything else?”
“Fire turns a vision inward. In the past, your dreams indicated that someone close to you held a dangerous secret.” Ruari met her gaze squarely then. “But this time … you’re the one with the secret.”
Lara stilled. She was aware then that around her, the others of her party were all listening in on their conversation.
“I’m not,” she assured them, her voice catching. The Shee and Alar were riding around a furlong ahead. Fortunately, they wouldn’t overhear them, especially with the voices on the wind.
“Are you worried about something, My Queen?” Annis asked gently.
Lara cast the counselor a rueful look. “Besides our current situation?”
Annis held her gaze, steady and unflinching. “Perhaps you’re embarrassed to share your concerns.”
Lara shook her head, even as her belly clenched.
“Ruari could be right … you might be repressing it.”
Irritation spiked through Lara’s chest like a hot needle.
But beneath it—worse than it—panic unfurled its wings.
She was hiding something. From them. From herself.
The heat that had pooled low in her belly when she’d shaken Alar’s hand.
The way her pulse had quickened despite her anger.
Her body’s traitorous response to a man who’d destroyed everything.
She could feel it now—that shameful wanting coiled in her gut like a serpent.
Still hungry. Still aching. After everything he’d done.
Her fingernails dug crescents into her palms. What kind of woman burned for the man who’d betrayed her? What kind of fool let desire override reason, let her body sabotage every vow of vengeance she’d made?
Lara squeezed her eyes shut, as if darkness could keep the knowledge from taking root. But it was too late.
Curse Alar. And curse her too for seeking him out.
She’d avoided him ever since, though she’d been unable to stop herself from watching when Mor gifted him that magnificent stag.
The confusion on his face first. The wariness.
Then—the Gods help her—the wonder that had rippled across his features.
Something in her chest had warmed at the sight, an ember she’d thought long dead suddenly glowing.
He’d spent his life as an outcast, accepted by neither Shee nor Marav. The Raven Queen had made a generous gesture, one that would mean everything to a man who’d never belonged anywhere.
But the wind twisted even that moment of sympathy into something darker.
Too generous. The warmth in her chest turned to ice.
The certainty crept up her spine like frost: Mor had plans for him.
Plans that might unite them against her.
She could see it now—how easily the Shee might turn on her once she’d served her purpose.
How Alar might choose his people over her. Again.
Her breath came shorter, shallower. The boundaries between The Gaulas’s poison and her own thoughts blurred.
“Lara?” Bree’s voice cut through the spiral, and she opened her eyes to find her warder had reined in her cob alongside. Concern etched lines around Bree’s eyes. “Are you all right?”
“Not really,” she ground out, the words scraping her throat raw. Her jaw ached from clenching. “Those voices never let up, do they?”
Bree’s gaze shadowed. “No … but you just withdrew from us again.”
“Aye, and you sometimes stop talking in the midst of sentences,” Cailean added gruffly. As always, Eithne perched behind him, and she watched the High Queen with wide, curious eyes.
A sickly sensation washed over Lara. Of course, her complicated feelings for Alar weren’t her only secret. There was another, one that soured her belly and made her pulse falter. Her fear that she was in the grip of a strange illness.
“Do I?”
Her gaze swept around her companions. One by one, they nodded.
“At least four times since we departed from the Golval Woods,” Roth confirmed, brow furrowed. Duana still rode with him. Like her sister, she watched Lara, although with a sharp, speculative gaze.
Lara’s heart started to pound in her ears. There wasn’t any point in denying this. It was time to tell them the rest. “I’ve also been losing time.” Confusion flickered over their faces, and so she elaborated. “Half a day will go by, but I have no recollection of it.”
Her gut churned once more, especially when alarm flared in their gazes.
“When did this start?” Annis asked, her tone gentle, like a healer dealing with a skittish patient—one who was in denial about a grave sickness. No one liked to admit The Reaper was standing over them.
“It’s happened occasionally over the past turn of the moon … although more frequently since we began our journey north.”
“That’s worrying, indeed,” Ruari murmured.
“It’s not a secret though, is it?” Roth pointed out, frowning.
“Perhaps not.” Lara looked away, dread dragging at her lungs. “But it indicates there’s something seriously amiss with me, doesn’t it?”