Page 126 of Fang & Fury

Their story had just begun. There was no need to rush, no need to bind themselves to each other yet. They had time, and she wasn’t going anywhere.

And then, as if reading her thoughts, Darach’s lips curved into a wide smile.

EPILOGUE: ANOTHER KIND OF FREEDOM

Braewall, The Wolds

Twenty days later …

THEY ARRIVED HOME on a sparkling spring morning.

The hills south of the southern capital were golden with swathes of daffodils, and the sun on their faces held warmth now. The promise of a new start kissed their skin, and Ailsa turned her face up to the sky.

As always, she perched behind Darach upon Rùn’s sturdy back. Next to them, Kayla rode upon Thicket. When Ailsa glanced her way, she noted how her mentor’s gaze was fixed ahead.

At the fort that perched on the cliff.

The sea stretched behind it, a deep-blue swathe this morning. Gulls wheeled and shrieked, and the rumble of surf against rocks reached them as they drew closer.

Ailsa had enjoyed the ride south. It had felt good to be out on the road again. The journey reminded her of the time she’d spent with Fern. She wondered where the huntress was now. Somewhere deep in The Uplands, no doubt.

Once, Ailsa had envied Fern her freedom, and she still suffered the odd wistful pang. However, being with Darach was another kind of freedom, she’d discovered—one she hadn’t expected.

They didn’t ride into Braewall alone.

A company of fifty warriors, all southerners who’d deserted Braewall after Niall declared independence, accompanied them. The two warriors out front carried the leaping stag banner high, announcing the king’s return.

Darach had sent word south after the battle, while they returned to Duncrag and prepared to go home.

The steward who was loyal to his brother needed to ready himself, for Niall wouldn’t be returning. Darach would. And the steward wasn’t welcome. The man had been Niall’s toady for years now, had persecuted druids with glee and seen spies everywhere.

Hopefully, the man had the good sense to flee.

They’d soon see.

Ailsa squeezed Darach’s waist then. “What does it feel like,” she murmured, “to come back here?”

He huffed. “Strange, if I’m honest.” He paused then. “In truth, there were moments when I thought it might never happen.”

“But you never gave up, did you?” Kayla piped up then, overhearing them. “Stubborn bastard.”

Darach laughed, the sound carrying over the road.

As they drew closer to the fort, locals ran out to see them, gazes eager, faces full of hope.

If the messenger he’d sent had managed to spread word, they all knew that Braewall and Duncrag were united once more, and that the man riding home was Lara’s new overking.

Judging from the grins on their faces, the whoops and clapping, they were happy about it.

Warmth suffused Ailsa’s chest.

Darach deserved this. He’d been born for it.

As they approached the outskirts of the settlement around the fort, they passed the crossroads. And there, upon a scaffold, hung an iron cage.

A decaying body lay crumpled within, more skeleton than corpse.

Tatters of red fabric fluttered in the breeze. Nearby, a raven let out a loud caw.