30 JUSTIFY NOTHING. REGRET NOTHING.
THE WEEPER WAILED as Lara walked through the camp, flanked by Bree and Alar. The folk of Ardroth weren’t the only ones being paid a visit. The wraith’s mournful cry was awful—harrowing grief distilled into one drawn-out howl.
Bree muttered a curse under her breath, although Alar remained silent. Nonetheless, there was a harshness to his profile that betrayed him.
Few could listen to The Weeper and not let sorrow and foreboding overwhelm them.
The spirit was somewhere in the oakwood to the west. Corpse candles glowed amongst the trees there too, although Lara was careful to keep her gaze averted.
It was late, and their encampment was quiet, watchful.
Torches burned around the perimeter, and the enforcers had laid ward stones before Ren and her bards wove a protection sain.
Gregor and his sacrificers had done their bit too, beheading pigeons and chanting to the Gods as they spread their entrails.
Fortunately, the Slew hadn’t appeared, although it had been a breathless wait at dusk.
The news from Ardroth had no doubt made its way through her army. Until recently, it was faerie creatures, Mor’s allies, they’d been wary of. But now the restless dead and other wicked spirits were the ones stirring up trouble.
The trio wove their way through the press of tents toward a circle of supply wagons. All three of them were cloaked and hooded, shadows in the darkness. There, they slipped between two canopied wagons and ducked into a large pavilion that had been erected beyond.
Within, Lara found Cailean and Ruari waiting for her. The druid stood before a brightly burning brazier.
This was where she’d continue her fire-wielding practice.
Halting before the brazier, Lara pushed back her hood and held out her hands, warming her fingers over the flames.
A clear, crisp day had given way to a cold night; a frost was settling outdoors.
She glanced around then at the four individuals who now watched her, and frowned.
“I didn’t expect to do this with an audience. ”
Indeed, until Gateway, she’d only ever played with fire in private.
She wasn’t sure she could ‘perform’ while being watched—especially with Alar present. She didn’t want him here, yet he’d insisted.
“Just pretend we aren’t here,” her husband drawled.
Lara cut him a sharp look and retrieved her cairn stone from the pouch at her waist. Holding up the chunk of quartz to the light, she stared into its smoky depths. “I still don’t understand how a lump of rock is supposed to help me calm my emotions and focus my thoughts?”
Indeed, she’d tried using it before her departure, with little success.
“I told you,” Ruari answered. “Smoky quartz is grounding and protective.”
Lara glanced the chief-seer’s way. Exasperation flickered in his eyes.
Embarrassed that she’d seen his reaction, the young man dropped his gaze to the grey lump of gleaming stone upon her palm. “Cairn stones are more powerful than most folk realize, My Queen,” he muttered. “It should help you … contain … your ability.”
Marking the catch in his voice, Lara closed her fingers tightly around the lump of quartz. Ruari had agreed to help her master this, yet he feared her ability to wield fire.
Swallowing, she shifted her attention to the brazier. “Come on, then,” she muttered. “Let’s get started.”
“First, you need to quieten your mind … as I showed you in Duncrag,” the chief-seer replied.
Lara closed her eyes. Gods, this was the most difficult part.
Her first couple of sessions with Ruari had felt like she’d been trudging through a bog.
Her thoughts often flitted off in various directions.
But she was determined to do better this evening.
There wasn’t any time for a wandering mind. She had to focus.
Moments passed, and as Ruari’s instructions filtered through the tent, she forgot about her audience and focused on the rise and fall of his voice.
And, eventually, a stillness crept over her.
That was better. It felt as if a calm pond had settled deep inside her chest.
“Are you ready to try again?” Ruari asked softly.
“Aye,” she whispered back.
Her eyes flickered open then, and she tightened the fingers of her right hand around the cairn stone, as she had in Duncrag.
Her gaze then shifted to the flames dancing in the brazier.
To her surprise, she forged a connection immediately.
It was so much easier in a calm state, and the reassuring feel of the stone against her palm made something quicken inside her, an understanding that she’d lacked previously.
At Gateway, she’d wielded fire like a blunt instrument, but now, it felt like a lyre. She just had to learn how to play it. Tentatively, she reached out her left hand, wiggling her fingers slightly. And in response, the flames in the brazier jumped high into the air.
Ruari muttered an oath, but Lara ignored him. She needed to retain her focus, her inner calm.
Meanwhile, Cailean, Bree, and Alar looked on intently. They wanted to see what she was capable of—and she’d show them.
An instant later, the flames were dancing on her palm, like the corpse candles had on that fateful day. The day she and Alar met.
The flames on her palm went wild, flaring upward in greedy golden tongues. Of course, they were mirroring Lara’s emotions—for thinking of the man who stood just a couple of feet away caused the still waters inside her to ripple, as if stirred by a breeze.
Shit. Despite that she’d done her best to distance herself from him since their argument, he still affected her. A painful knot of loneliness, longing, and frustration clenched deep in her chest then. She was stronger than this.
Sensing her turmoil, the flames on her palm scattered haphazardly.
Lara sucked in a deep breath, frustration beating against her breastbone. This won’t do.
“Give each thought a name, remember.” Ruari’s voice intruded then. “And imagine putting them, one by one, into a sack.”
Lara nodded, doggedly following his instructions. She’d master this.
“Now … tie the sack up and throw it aside.”
She did. It worked, and moments later, the flames danced merrily on her palm once more.
“What else can you do, Lara?” Alar asked, a challenge in his voice. “Show us.”
Heat washed over her. Prick . He was right though: summoning fire to her palm wasn’t so hard. However, she was suddenly nervous to push it further. What if she lost control?
The flames guttered.
Breathing an oath, Lara closed her eyes and let stillness settle. She hadn’t realized what a bubbling cauldron of emotion she was on the inside. All it took was a few words from the Half-blood, and her temper spiked.
Fire doesn’t lie.
She was going to have to work hard if she wanted to wield fire successfully with Alar present.
Opening her eyes, she noted that the flames flickered eagerly in the center of her palm now, as if waiting for instruction.
“That’s better,” Ruari said, his tone soothing. “Mark things rather than respond to them. The flames will respond better if you stay calm.”
She loosened her grip on the cairn stone with her other hand, gently rubbing it with her thumb. And when she did, the flames formed a neat ring and began to dance like revelers around a Bealtunn Fire.
Lara’s lips curved. She’d never done that before.
It dawned upon her then that the flames were fickle.
They didn’t like to be dominated or ordered around, which she’d mistakenly done at Gateway; instead, they had to be treated with respect.
Elation swept over her—reminding her of how she’d felt that evening in the woods when the corpse candle had danced like a pixie on her palm—although she quickly throttled the emotion.
Calmness returned. Continuing to rub the stone, she ‘asked’ one of the flames to move into the center of the circle—and it did. She then concentrated on that single flame, watching as it rose like a burning pillar.
Nearby, Bree breathed something under her breath. However, Lara ignored her. She couldn’t let anything distract her from the flame.
She nudged it once more with her mind, a gentle request, and the flame began to curl and twist before splitting off into four tongues. Exactly as she’d requested.
Her eyes grew wide. It was difficult to keep calm now, not when she’d been so successful. She wanted to flash Alar a victory grin, but to do so would shatter the connection she’d formed. No, she’d celebrate later.
For now, she’d enjoy this moment. Silently.
Alar swirled the dregs of wine in his cup and glanced across at where his wife was brushing her hair, readying herself to retire. The light of the nearby brazier caught the red in her auburn hair and burnished her creamy skin. “That was impressive earlier.”
Lara cut her gaze his way, her lips pursing.
His praise washed off her these days. He’d hurt her more deeply than he’d realized.
Discomfort stirred within him then. Navigating this marriage was like trying to swim across a loch infested with aughisky.
One wrong move and he’d be pulled under.
When Lara had confided in him, he’d panicked.
They were getting too close; he couldn’t let her expect anything from him.
But ever since he’d pushed her away, he’d regretted his harshness.
The urge to apologize to her rose then, but he smashed it down.
Justify nothing. Regret nothing . A mercenary he’d once shared an ale with, years ago now, had told him that. He’d never forgotten—indeed, he’d lived by those words ever since.
It was getting late. They’d returned from the ‘practice pavilion’ and shared a silent cup of wine. Lara had ignored him as they sat by the brazier, her eyes unfocused as she stared into the flames.
“I mean it,” he said, even as guilt needled him once more. “You showed remarkable control … for a beginner.”
She pulled another face before dragging the hog bristle brush through her hair with more force than necessary. “It better be enough.” Her tone was clipped. She refused to meet his eye.
“It has to be.”
Her fine features tensed. “What if the Slew return before I’m ready?”
“They probably will.” She cut him a sharp look then, her brows drawing together. However, he merely shrugged. “And you’ll repel them as you did at Gateway … but with a little more control.”
Lara looked away once more. “And how will I wield fire without anyone recognizing me?”
Alar lifted a hand and stroked his chin. “You’re right,” he murmured. “That’s an issue.”
“Aye … and one we can’t ignore.” Lara rose to her feet and moved across to the pile of furs in the corner of the royal pavilion, her bare feet sinking into the sheepskins. She wore nothing but a thin linen tunic that clung to her lithe body as she walked.
Alar blinked before cutting his gaze back to the smoldering embers of the brazier. Moments passed before he cleared his throat. “I might have a solution.”