11 AT A CROSSROADS #2
His mouth twitched once more. “You’ll like this one … I swear.”
Lara stepped through the rose-covered archway and stopped short. “The Mother’s tits,” she whispered, momentarily forgetting her manners. “What is this?”
“The Shee love their gardens, it seems,” Alar replied, his voice unnervingly close. “So, they have grown one here.”
She took a smart step forward to put some more distance between them.
All the while, she gazed at the beauty around her.
White trailing roses covered all the surrounding walls, their sweet perfume heavy in the air.
The usual stone pavers had been replaced with gleaming white stone, and a fountain made of the same material tinkled at the heart of the courtyard.
Stone cressets dotted the space, where fires glowed.
“I had the fires lit earlier … for you.”
Lara cut Alar a sharp look over her shoulder, to find him watching her. His words set her already tight nerves further on edge. Their upcoming marriage was an arrangement. He didn’t need to impress her—in fact, she wished he wouldn’t.
“Apparently, this area was once the guard barracks,” he added. “Although you’d never know to look at it.”
Lara turned away from him and walked into the heart of the courtyard.
Her gaze rested on the fountain once more—the smooth stone had been carved into the form of a bird.
The Great Raven. The Shee didn’t worship The Five.
Water gushed from its beak and fell into a basin that drained away beneath the fort.
She guessed a well had once sat here, but since Doure already had one well in the inner ward, the Shee had turned this one into a decorative feature.
How decadent. Her people wouldn’t put that much energy into something that served no practical purpose. She couldn’t help but marvel at the fountain’s beauty though, and wondered how they’d managed to create it.
Eventually, she turned her attention away from the fountain and surveyed the rose-covered walls around her. “Bree told me that the Shee love roses,” she murmured to herself. “White ones especially.” She shook her head incredulously then. “But how did they grow them so fast?”
“The Shee have their own magic … different from the earth magic of druids.” To her consternation, Alar was standing right behind her again. “Haven’t you heard the tales of how they can whisper to animals and plants?”
Lara’s skin prickled. Aye, she had. But stories were one thing; seeing it with her own eyes was another.
“Can I ask how Bree knows so much about the Shee?” Alar’s tone was casual, although she detected sharpness just beneath.
“I was wondering when you’d ask me that,” she admitted, turning to face him. “The tale hasn’t spread as far and wide as I’d thought, after all.”
He inclined his head, inviting her to continue.
“Bree was once one of the Shee … an assassin sent by Mor to Duncrag as a spy.”
Alar stilled at this admission, and a frisson of satisfaction rippled through Lara. It was a relief to see him on the back foot for once. The bastard always looked so sure of himself. He had answers for everything.
“And?” he prompted.
“And … she posed as the Maid of Albia Cailean ordered himself.”
“The chief-enforcer ordered himself a bride?”
“Aye … my father insisted he take a wife … but the Shee intercepted her on the way to Duncrag.”
Alar frowned. “How did he not see through her glamor?”
“She didn’t glamor herself … she passed through The Ring of Caith into our realm … and in doing so became Marav.”
He jerked as if she’d just jabbed him with a pin. “What?”
Lara favored him with a rueful smile. “Aye … it appears the Shee can pass through our stone circles … and change form when they do so. Only at certain times of year though.” She paused then, marking the calculating glint that suddenly sparked in his eyes.
“And no, Marav can’t do the same apparently …
although you could take your chances, if you wish.
” Certainly, that would be one way of ridding herself of him, although being a half-blood, he might survive the trip.
He snorted as if guessing her thoughts. “So, why is she still alive?”
Lara sighed. “It’s a long tale … but let’s just say that Bree and Cailean fell in love, and she chose him over her queen.
” She halted then, another wry smile tugging at her lips.
“And she also proved her loyalty to me … which is why she’s now my warder.
And you might as well know that her brother lives at Duncrag too.
He’s taken Marav form as well and is now my archivist.”
Alar considered her words, one long-fingered hand lifting to rub the lean line of his jaw as he observed her. Her admission had rendered him speechless.
“Are you conflicted when it comes to the Shee?” she asked then.
His gaze narrowed. “In what sense?”
“Their blood flows through your veins. Do you ever wonder if you’re on the right side?”
He snorted. “I’m the result of one reckless encounter between a Shee warrior and a Marav lass.
My father tumbled my mother in a forest glade and then disappeared.
I have no loyalty to the Shee.” His voice was low, yet she picked up the edge to it.
This wasn’t a subject he was comfortable discussing.
Silence fell between them, broken only by the soft tinkle of the fountain. The sky above was dark now, ropes of stars twinkling overhead.
Tiredness swept over Lara then, and she raised a hand to her lips, hiding a yawn. She couldn’t wait to crawl into her furs. Today had exhausted her—as had her conversations with the Half-blood.
“Come,” Alar murmured. “Let’s go inside.”
Lara nodded, moving away from the fountain. She headed toward the archway, not waiting for him to fall into step next to her. They’d spent enough time together today.
However, she’d only gone a few steps across the smooth pavers when a lithe figure burst out from the shadows. Steel flashed in the firelight then, as a blade flew at her throat.