Chapter 37 I WILL NOT YIELD
LARA REACHED FOR another slice of roast duck and avoided looking at Cailean and Bree.
The couple was oblivious to her anyway. They’d taken a seat farther down the chieftain’s table. Cheeks flushed, eyes bright, they kept sharing lingering looks and secret smiles.
Lara pretended not to notice. Their loud lovemaking had ruined her bath.
Music filled the roundhouse. Two men playing bone whistles had struck up a tune next to the huge square stone-lined hearth at the heart of the roundhouse. The din of voices and the squeal of the bone whistles were deafening.
“What a feast.”
She looked up to see Alar slide onto the bench opposite her. Clad in his usual black leathers, he looked dangerous. There wasn’t much space, and Roth had to shuffle along to accommodate him. The red-haired warrior, who sat next to Duana, cast Alar a veiled look.
“Enjoy it,” Lara replied, pouring gravy onto her duck. “It’s in our honor.”
“In your honor,” Alar replied. “Connor mac Garth wishes to thank his High Queen … and rightly so.”
Lara gave a soft snort. The crannog-dwellers had outdone themselves. It was a feast worthy of the ones her cooks prepared for special occasions at Duncrag.
Men, women, and bairns lined the long tables that formed a square around the hearth inside the chieftain’s roundhouse, as they tucked into roast duck and smoked eel.
They passed around baskets of crusty oaten bread, helped themselves to spoonfuls of soft goat’s cheese, and drank mead and ale from wooden cups.
Next to Lara, Annis was spreading cheese onto a huge slice of crusty bread. The counselor then took a large bite, her eyelids flickering in pleasure.
A smile tugged at Lara’s lips. Her attention flicked back to Alar, her belly fluttering when she found him watching her. It was a look she recognized; one he reserved just for her. A steady, smoldering gaze. Soft and knowing.
Aye, this man understood her. She’d never been able to hide from him.
Her cheeks warmed then. This was awkward; she wished he’d squeezed in elsewhere. But he hadn’t. Dropping her gaze, she took a bite of duck. Rich flavor exploded on her tongue as she chewed.
“How long will we remain at Crask?” Alar asked then.
“Forever,” Roth replied, pouring Duana and himself some more ale. “With hospitality like this, I may never leave.”
Duana laughed, and Lara smiled. “We shall stay a few days at least. I think we’ve all earned it.”
“A toast!” The chieftain shouted then, his voice cutting through the roar. “To our brave High Queen!” Connor had risen to his feet and now held a horn of mead aloft. His high cheekbones were slightly flushed. “She faced down the shadows and vanquished them. Songs will be sung about her bravery!”
Embarrassment prickled Lara’s skin, especially when Roth murmured, “He’s laying it on thick, isn’t he?”
“A speech from our High Queen!” The chieftain thrust his horn high into the air, mead sloshing over the brim.
“Speech!” A roar went up, shivering through the smoky air and shaking the rafters.
Swallowing her mouthful, Lara exchanged a look with Alar—who was now smiling—and rose to her feet. A pause followed as she marshaled her thoughts.
“This isn’t just my victory,” she said once the cheering had died down, her voice carrying across the now silent roundhouse. “But that of those who have protected me on this journey. Cailean. Bree. Roth. Annis. Ren” —her gaze flicked to the man seated opposite— “and Alar.”
Smiles followed these words, but Lara wasn’t done.
Over the years, she’d become comfortable with speech-making.
She’d grown up watching her father hold an audience in the palm of his hand and had always marveled at his confidence.
But it wasn’t that difficult, once you learned how to connect with those listening.
“We lost our brave seer, Ruari, at The Shattered Crown. His soul has now traveled to the Otherworld … but I’d like us all to raise our cups now, to remember him.”
“To Ruari!” Around her, a sea of cups thrust high into the air.
“Have you made peace with the Shee now?” Someone, a warrior with a florid face, shouted. There was a note of belligerence in his voice.
“Not as such,” she answered. “Ruari wasn’t the only one to fall at The Shattered Crown.
” She halted then, letting the tension build.
“The Raven Queen is also dead.” Shock rippled through the roundhouse.
Once it had settled, she continued, “Mor’s cousin, Vyrnek, now leads the Shee.
He has promised to treat with us. We shall see if he holds true to his word. ”
A rumble followed this news. The crannog-dwellers exchanged wary looks. Clearly, few of them believed he would. However, none of them knew what had taken place inside that broken stone circle. Or that Mor had intended to betray her cousin.
“I can’t give you all reassurances about the future,” she went on, her chin lifting. “But you are proud crannog-dwellers. Uplanders. You’ve weathered many storms … and are strong enough to outlast more.”
Connor, who still stood at the end of the table, nodded, raising his drinking horn high once more. “Aye!”
“Aye!” Cups thumped against wood.
“But there will be changes … both here in the North, and in The Wolds too,” she went on, once the noise had died down.
“Going forward, we shall learn to share our world with others. It won’t be easy.
There will be obstacles, yet on this, I will not yield.
My father persecuted the Shee, wulvers, and half-bloods. I won’t.”
A hush settled then.
Lara had spoken those last two words with deliberate emphasis, and fire pulsed in her belly as she stared the crowd down, daring any of them to contradict her.
No one did. Nonetheless, she marked the uneasy glances some of them shared. Change was coming, but that didn’t mean it would be easy, or that they’d like it.
She lowered her gaze then, meeting Alar’s eye across the table. Their gazes fused, and as their stare drew out, her pulse went wild. Suddenly, it didn’t matter what anyone else in this roundhouse thought.
Only his opinion mattered.
The wulvers had turned on her, yet could she blame them entirely? Even at Duncrag, her people had treated them like vermin. Things had to change.
She wanted Alar to believe her, to know that she was committed to this.
Over the last years, she’d teetered on the edge, torn between taking her father’s path or her own.
However, revenge only ever left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Aye, she’d deal with her overkings. But that wasn’t about justice or about restoring her birthright.
It was about stopping greedy, ambitious men from destroying The Wolds.
Slowly, Alar smiled—and she knew he understood.
Lara rolled onto her back, staring up at the shadowed ceiling of her sleeping nook.
Curse it. The night drew out, and everyone else slumbered. But she couldn’t.
The furs were deliciously soft, embracing her like a warm hug. After everything she’d endured of late, and with a belly full of rich food and drink, she should be sleeping deeply.
But she was wide awake.
And no, it wasn’t Cailean and Bree’s nocturnal activities that disturbed her. The alcove next to hers was mercifully silent.
Her mind wouldn’t let her rest. Not with so much unsaid.
She’d said plenty earlier. Her speech had shocked many of the crannog-dwellers. The mood afterward hadn’t been quite so merry as beforehand, yet Lara had lowered herself back onto the bench seat with renewed determination.
She voiced something that had burned inside her for a long time.
But not everything.
There were things she needed to say to Alar, and until she did, she’d find no peace.
Growling an oath, she threw back the furs and clambered out of bed. Her bare feet sank into the sheepskins as she threw her cloak around her shoulders.
She then ducked out of the alcove, stepping out onto the rush-strewn floor.
The hearth burned low. Above, the rafters creaked as wind buffeted the roundhouse. The drifting smoke swirled. A low rumble filtered through the air. Skaal lay curled up on a sheepskin by the fire, snoring.
Careful not to disturb the fae hound, Lara tiptoed across to Alar’s alcove.
Halting before it, she hesitated, her courage faltering for a few instants.
Irritation surged up. You’re not backing away from this … or from him.
And so, reaching out, she pushed aside the curtain and slipped inside.
Alar was asleep, propped up against a nest of rolled furs.
Those furs covering his body had slipped down, revealing his naked torso.
Fresh bandages wrapped around his chest and hand; he’d visited the crannog’s healer shortly after their arrival.
The light of a dying cresset played across his bare skin and the wolf’s head tattoo.
The wolf’s eyes glowed red then, as if it had just seen her.
Alar stirred awake, his own eyes opening. When he saw Lara, he stilled.
Embarrassed, Lara cleared her throat. “Sorry for waking you up,” she said softly.
He stretched before wincing as his shoulder announced itself. Gingerly, he rolled it, testing it. “It’s late … is something wrong?”
Her pulse started to thunder in her ears. Suddenly, she felt foolish. Tongue-tied. Maybe it would be easier if she just blurted everything out.
“I need to tell you why I love you.”
He eyed her, his brow furrowing. “I thought you didn’t know.”
“Well, I do now.” Gods, she wished she didn’t sound so breathless.
His gaze softened, tenderness sparking in its depths. “You don’t need to do this.”
She shook her head. Aye, she did.
“You’ve always believed in me, even when I doubted myself,” she began softly. “You listen. When you’re at my side, I can take on the world.” She paused, feeling lightheaded now. “Like tonight.”
“That was a strong speech,” he replied. “I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
She took a step closer. “You’re wrong. You’ve opened my eyes to many things … even when I didn’t want to see them.” She paused then, her pulse fluttering. “You told me that Albia was changing … and that I couldn’t put things back to how they once were, do you remember that?”
He nodded, his gaze veiling.
“Well, you were right. The old order died with my father. Why would I want to continue it?”
“I was harsh.”
“You spoke the truth. I like that about you … the way you say things others don’t. You have an ancient wisdom … one I want to learn.”
He made a noise in the back of his throat.
She took another step forward. “You are a part of me now. Together, we’ve weathered betrayal, darkness, fire, and blood. We’ve emerged on the other side. Scorched but still alive. I love you, Alar. All of you. The darkness as well as the light. There’s shadow in all of us.”
“Not in you,” he said huskily.
“Aye, especially in me.” Her gaze fused with his, even as her pulse thumped in her ears. “Whether I use fire or not, I’m still a fire-wielder. Madness sleeps in my blood. I must always guard myself against it … and with your help, I will.”
His eyes widened. “What are you saying?”
“When I ride back into Duncrag, I want to do so with you at my side. My husband.”
Alar stared back at her. His chest rose and fell sharply. “You want me back?” His voice was hoarse, his eyes bright.
“Aye.”
He swallowed. “Are you sure?”
Lara shrugged off her cloak, letting it fall to the sheepskins. She then reached down and grabbed the hem of her thin tunic, pulling it over her head so that she stood naked before him. “I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life.”