37 GOING HOME

THE SIGHT OF Duncrag’s beehive-shaped broch, thrusting against dark skies, made Bree’s stomach flutter.

Strange, how it felt as if she were going home.

A rueful smile tugged at her lips then as she remembered the first time she’d set eyes on this fort—the dread that had churned inside her as she considered the mission Mor had given her.

All of that was behind her though. She was making a new start.

However, this time, she was doing so as a lone Shee female, surrounded by Marav. And iron. Already on the journey south, she’d burned herself twice on it. Once, when she’d accidentally picked up an eating knife. The metal had bitten into her palm like a snake. Then, she’d brushed her arm against Cailean’s chest when he’d just slung his knife belt across his front. The burn had made her yelp, even through layers of clothing.

She sat behind Cailean now, astride Feannag. Traveling in the wagon had become too uncomfortable for him, every jolt painful. As such, it was easier for him to ride, although Eldra had strapped his chest up first.

Fortunately, he’d tied his broadsword and fighting dagger to the front of the saddle so she didn’t touch them.

“I never thought I’d return here.” The rumble of Cailean’s voice roused her then. “I told myself that chapter of my life was done with … that there are some rivers you can never cross twice.”

“I believed the same,” she admitted, tightening her hold on his waist. “But the twists of fate can surprise you.”

“Indeed, it has brought us back here … together.”

Her throat tightened, her eyes suddenly hot and prickly. Shades, she was on the verge of tears. “It feels right too,” she said, her gaze traveling over the fort's high stone walls. “There are worse places to live than Duncrag.”

“Are you ready for this?” Concern crept into Cailean’s voice then. His big hand covered hers, firm and warm. “A Shee female guarding the Marav High Queen will create a stir.”

She snorted. “It will … but over the past moons I’ve realized a few things about myself.”

“Such as?”

Bree smiled. She leaned in then, her lips brushing against his ear. “You’re a protector … and so am I.”

The mood within the fort was somber, especially once word spread that only the High King’s daughter, and a sparse army, had returned from the north.

Lara hadn’t delayed in announcing the news. She addressed the swelling crowd gathered inside the gates, and when she moved on—making her way up The Thoroughfare toward the broch—the wail of grieving widows had followed her. The haunting lament blended with the shrill sound of The Whistle as a grey afternoon slid into dusk.

Bree escorted Lara into the broch now. Her skin prickled as the iron doors loomed before her, yet she set her jaw and kept moving. Luckily, the guards waiting there pulled the doors open as they approached, even if they stared at the sight of a Shee female at Lara’s side.

Once they were indoors, Lara went straight to the hall.

“Are you sure you still want me at your side?” Bree murmured, following her across the reed-covered floor. Although they’d only just arrived back, Lara would be expected to give an audience. Already, men and women were pouring into the hall, the agitated rise and fall of their voices echoing high into the rafters. “This isn’t going to be easy.”

Lara gave a soft snort and lowered herself onto her father’s carven chair upon the high seat. “Nothing will be … from now on.”

Cailean joined them then, weaving through the press to take his place behind Lara. However, Bree marked how stiffly he held himself, and how ginger his movements were.

“You should be resting,” she murmured, casting him a frown.

Cailean harrumphed, his gaze meeting hers. “There will be plenty of time for that. Right now … I need to be here.”

Before them, the circular space filled up. Standing next to Lara, Bree weathered frightened, accusing stares. As expected, she was causing quite a stir. Meanwhile, at the fringes of the crowd, she spied figures robed in red, white, blue, and green—druids. Torran waited there too, with the other remaining enforcers. And near the doors, looking like he wanted to bolt, stood Gil. His mouth was pursed as if the smell in here overpowered him.

Guilt knifed through Bree as she watched her brother. He looked so lost standing there, trapped in a Marav body amongst people he’d always considered enemies. She wanted to make this easier for him, but she couldn’t. She was relieved he’d accompanied them to Duncrag though; Bree didn’t like the thought of Gil roaming Albia, utterly alone in the world.

Despite everything, they were closer these days than they’d been in a long while. Living in Duncrag together would make settling in Albia easier for them both.

Lara waited until the din of voices, some of them sharp with hysteria, died down. And then, she rose gracefully to her feet, surveying their anguished faces.

“As many of you will have heard … we were defeated in the north,” she began, quelling the last of the murmuring. “I confirm that an army of Shee … aided by hill-tribe warriors, and a host of faery creatures from our own realm … laid siege to Cannich, and that my father, and his overkings … including my husband … are dead. The northern Uplands have fallen. Mor, the Raven Queen, now controls the land around Cannich.”

Some of those in the crowd cursed under their breaths at these devastating words, while others reached up and grasped the iron protection charms they wore around their necks.

“The enemy also attacked our rearguard and attempted to abduct my mother and me,” Lara continued, her voice catching slightly. “Queen Teva was killed in the ensuing struggle.” She halted there, raising her hand sharply to still the tide of agitated muttering that now rose around her.

Lara waited for the noise to settle before she gestured to her right. “This is Bree Fellshadow, my personal warder and advisor.”

A shocked silence fell then, as all gazes fixed upon Bree. Lara let them stare for a few moments before she spoke once more. “Aye, she’s one of the Shee … but she is a friend .”

Warmth suffused Bree’s chest at these words. Lara had no idea what such an admission meant to her.

“You won’t recognize her in this form,” Lara went on, “but the Raven Queen sent her here last spring. She impersonated the chief-enforcer’s bride so that she might learn where and when my father would strike the Shee next.”

Gasps and growled oaths followed this admission. Meanwhile, Bree’s belly clenched. She’d known that Lara would have to address, and explain, her presence here. Nonetheless, she hadn’t expected her to be quite so blunt about it. The glares upon her now felt as if they were stripping her skin away.

“Bree was sent to spy upon us … but she has redeemed herself,” Lara said, plowing ahead despite the muttering. “She risked her life to warn the chief-enforcer that the Shee were lying in wait at Mid-Summer Fire … yet failed to prevent the massacre that followed, for the Raven Queen attacked earlier than expected.”

These words didn’t appease the crowd. If anything, it stirred them up. Many of the warriors amongst them looked ready to grab their weapons and rush at Lara’s warder. A rumble of growing ire echoed off the damp stone.

Dragging in a slow breath, Bree flexed her fingers, fighting the urge to reach for her knives. She hoped Lara knew what she was doing, or things were about to get bloody. Her new position would end up a short one indeed.

Iron flay me , maybe taking this job wasn’t a wise choice.

“Bree and Cailean mac Brochan saved my life.” Lara’s voice, more strident now, cut through the muttering. “Together they challenged the Shee warriors who tried to abduct me and my mother.” She paused, her chin lifting as the crowd quietened once more. “She has pledged her loyalty to me and shall live amongst us now.” A hard edge crept into Lara’s tone then. A warning. “And anyone who raises a hand against her will face my wrath.”

Following Lara and Gil into the large alcove, Bree halted. Her gaze swept over the mountains of dusty scrolls heaped chaotically upon shelves and benches. A large table dominated the space, with more parchments littering its surface. A map of The Uplands of Albia had been rolled out, pinned down with iron weights at each corner.

Bree observed the chaos around her before murmuring an oath under her breath.

In response, Lara cut her a weary smile. As soon as the audience was over, she’d insisted on bringing Gil here.

However, Bree’s brother wore a guarded expression. Like her, he wasn’t sure what Lara was up to.

“My father never hired an archivist, even though he needed one,” Lara said finally. “Some of the scrolls in here were written by his great, great grandsire. It’s a mess … one that will take years to sort out.” She paused then, sympathy shadowing her green eyes. “I know it’s not the life you wish for, Gil … but the role is yours.”

Gil’s gaze jerked to her, surprise lighting in his eyes. “You’re offering me a position here?”

Lara smiled. “Aye, if you want it.”

He stared back at her, a nerve flickering under one eye. An awkward silence swelled in the alcove then before he swallowed and dropped his gaze. “Very well, I accept,” he said gruffly.

Bree flashed Lara an apologetic look for her brother’s lack of grace. However, her friend merely shrugged. She then focused on him once more. “We will meet again in a few days … and you can advise me on how you plan to catalog all of this.”

Gil nodded. Then, following Bree’s swift elbow to the ribs, he remembered his manners. “Thank you … Your Highness.”