Page 105 of Fang & Fury

It was a simple meal, yet on the road, pottage was a luxury. Although it didn’t take half as long to prepare as a stew might, some work was still required.

Better than dry oatcakes and cheese.

She, Kayla, and Darach had joined Lara and Alar for supper.

They sat in the royal pavilion, a comfortable space with sheepskins covering the damp ground, surrounded by small glowing braziers and servants at the ready, jugs of wine aloft. The sides of the tent snapped and billowed. The Gales of Complaint had gotten up.

There were no other members of the queen’s inner circle here this evening. No druids or even her captain.

“Can I ask you something, My Queen?” Kayla said finally, breaking the companionable silence as she scraped the last dregs of pottage from her trencher with a wooden spoon.

Lara took a sip of wine and nodded. “Of course.”

“Your fire magic … could it help us?”

Lara stilled at this. Next to her, Alar’s lean jaw tightened.

Ailsa caught the look Darach shot her. Kayla’s question was bold, yet worth asking, all the same.

“It could,” Lara replied quietly. “If I were happy to take that road.”

“Not even now?” Kayla pressed. “With so much at stake?”

“Fire magic has a price, as you know.”

“Is it true what the old tales say?” Kayla studied the queen intently. “That it affects your mind?”

Lara nodded. “The more I used it, the more I sickened. I lost time. I weakened.” Her jaw tightened. “Day by day, it broke me just a little more … and then when I wielded fire, I started to lose control of it.”

Silence settled in the tent. For a few moments, only the howl of the wind intruded.

Ailsa turned her cup slowly between her hands. “How close did you come?” she asked. “To losing control of it completely, I mean. Before you stopped.”

Lara’s gaze cut to her, something flickering in her green eyes. “Close enough that I frightened myself,” she admitted before pausing. “I won’t pretend that I’m not tempted to try again. It would help. It might even be enough to turn the whole fight in our favor.” Her fingertips dug into the tabletop. “But once fire consumes me, I don’t trust myself to stop … and I won’t risk incinerating those I’ve sworn to protect. Not even for this. I’m sorry.”

Ailsa held her gaze. “Don’t apologize. If you say the risk is too great, I believe you.”

Lara favored her with a tight smile in response, while Alar reached over, covering his wife’s hand with his own.

“Thanks to Fern’s warning moons ago, we’re ready for Niall,” Lara said after a moment, straightening. The fingertips of her free hand started to drum on the trestle table. She then growled an oath. “I just wish there was some weakness we could exploit.”

“There is,” Alar replied. “Niall.”

Darach cut him a look. “Aye … and that’s why our focus has to be on taking him down.”

33: MY TERMS ARE THESE

AILSA STRODE ALONGSIDE Darach, surrounded by a press of warriors around her.

Lara’s army was settling into position, stretching along the road at the bottom of the glen, hemmed in by marsh to the north and dense woodland to the south. Warriors crowded the road in disciplined ranks, shields and spears filling the narrow approach while archers took position behind them. Standards rose above the mass of bodies, snapping in the cold wind.

The Gales of Complaint weren’t letting up.

Pushing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes, Ailsa peered up at the sky. It was pale blue. The sun a cold white halo.

Runners darted through the ranks, senior warriors barked orders, and somewhere to her left a horn sounded twice in quick succession. Dawn had broken; the sun had cleared the tops of the pines to the east.

Ailsa’s gaze traveled east, to where the first glint of spearheads appeared at the far end of the road, beyond the rise.