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“And yet, he’s enslaved all those Circines warriors, who now hate him.”

Darach’s gaze flicked to the column marching ahead, to the banners fluttering in the breeze. “Niall has the massive army he always wanted, but likely still craves the one thing he can’t force … respect.”

32: ON THE EVE OF BATTLE

A FLASH OF white caught Ailsa’s eye.

Snowdrops.

The first of them for the year, poking their way through the damp soil, tiny white bonnets perched upon bright green stems.

She smiled.

Hope.

The first of the spring flowers was a good omen, wasn’t it?

She shifted her attention then, peering over Darach’s shoulder at where the column marched ahead along a muddy road flanked by a tangle of woodland—rowan, ash, birch, alder—all of it still naked of leaves and awaiting spring’s kiss.

“This is the place,” Darach announced then. “We’re stopping.”

Sure enough, riders were veering off the road. Moments later, the woodland drew back.

The road was slightly elevated, the ground not as boggy as it had been. They had clear views back the way they’d come and several furlongs ahead. The road sloped down, narrowing slightly as it funneled between the dense woods to the south and glittering marshland to the north.

Ailsa’s mouth curved. The perfect place to set a trap.

“Still no sign of Alar,” Darach said then.

Her smile faded. “Maybe something has happened to him?”

He shook his head. “If anyone can stay ahead of trouble, it’s Alar.”

Ailsa didn’t reply. She appreciated his confidence; she just hoped he was right.

They rode on, and after a short while, Darach drew Rùn up. They slid from the stallion’s back, and Darach led his horse toward the enclosure that was going up for all the horses. Leaving him to it, Ailsa headed off to find Kayla.

Weaving her way through the throng, she marked how quickly tents were being erected and cookfires were being lit. Every warrior seemed to know his or her role, but she hadn’t been given any instructions.

Ailsa wished someone would. She liked to feel useful.

She had healing skills, but those would only be called upon after battle.

There was a slight hum in the air this afternoon, a tension that had been slowly winding tighter since their departure from Duncrag. Warriors spoke together in low, clipped voices. Some of them kept glancing east—the direction trouble would come from.

Their journey was over. This was where they’d make their stand.

Ailsa caught sight of her mentor then.

She was standing with a group of red-robed sacrificers several yards away, and they were deep in discussion about something. Kayla was holding forth, gesticulating as she spoke, while the others, Mairead included, nodded earnestly.

Ailsa drew to a halt. She was pleased Kayla had found a role for herself here. However, she didn’t want to intrude. In truth, she didn’t understand half of what the druids talked about. Maybe she should see if the warriors wanted help with the tents.

Turning, she nearly collided with Bree.

The queen’s bodyguard had tied her long hair back in a tight braid, numerous iron blades strapped across her body. She looked ready to run headlong into battle, despite that her role was to hang back and protect Lara. She and Ailsa had trained together at Duncrag—Bree was even quicker on her feet than Darach and had taught her a few useful moves of her own.

“Evening.” Bree’s gaze swept over her, assessing rather than critical. “You look a bit lost.”