Page 75
“Aye … the night seems quiet enough.”
Ailsa stepped up to her shoulder, surveying their surroundings. The trees were thinner at this edge, opening to reveal the moonlit curves of the hills to the north. The night was quieter than it was in the depths of The Uplands. It reminded her more of The Wolds. Aye, faerie creatures and wraiths stirred at night in these places too, but they were more timid near campfires, less willing to intrude or bother travelers.
All the same, they had to be wary tonight.
Who knew if Niall had sent more warriors after them? Even if he had, Ailsa reminded herself they were a great distance ahead thanks to Isleen. As swift as those men and women were, they’d have to work hard to catch their shadows now.
“It’s my turn to keep watch,” she said after a pause. “Go get some rest.”
Fern nodded, although her gaze now roved over Ailsa’s face in that probing way of hers.
“What?” Ailsa asked.
The huntress smiled. “I was sure you’d made a mistake following your mother into that hill last night.”
“Aye, you didn’t look impressed at the time.”
“I was wrong though. Whatever passed between you, it’s helped … hasn’t it?”
“It has.”
“Good.”
A companionable silence fell between them then, although after a moment or two, Ailsa found herself studying Fern now. The moonlight frosted the proud lines of her face. Tonight, even without seeing her eyes, there was no mistaking her for a Marav woman. “Why aren’t you with your people, Fern?”
The huntress gave a soft snort. “I prefer the freedom of the wilds.”
“Do you ever get lonely?”
“Sometimes. But I like answering to no one more.”
Ailsa nodded. She understood that. “Do you have family waiting for you … back in Sheehallion?”
Fern’s features tightened slightly before she shook her head. “No, not anymore.”
Watching her, Ailsa wondered about the life Fern had walked away from, and why. She had no proof, yet her gut told her she was running from something. “At least you have Alar here,” she said finally.
“I do. The first time we met, I was trying to kill Queen Lara. Then, when he intervened, I attempted to put a blade through his chest too.” Fern’s lips lifted at the edges. “These days, we get on much better.”
Rùn’s feathered hooves squelched over muddy ground.
Meanwhile, the rain fell, sweeping in a biting curtain across the road.
Ailsa barely noticed, though.
Instead, arms wrapped around Darach’s torso, she peered over his shoulder at where the outline of a great fort shadowed the western sky.
They had ridden in from the east along the pebbly shore of the Firth of Fallow. The tide was in as they’d left the estuary behind, following the banks of the River Lethe now over a gently rising hill.
A curtain of mountains formed a spine to the north of the capital—the Shiel range was a barrier between the fort and The Uplands—but even in the rain, Duncrag was a sight that made Ailsa’s breathing catch.
She suddenly understood how small Braewall really was.
Duncrag was easily thrice the size.
Tier after tier of stone walls rose up from the mossy banks of the river and the smooth green hills around it, finishing with a massive beehive-shaped broch at the top.
This was it. The seat of the power that would stand against Niall—against what he’d done to those Circines, and what he might do to those living within these walls too, if given the chance.
