Page 41 of Fang & Fury

Darach stilled. “Your brother?”

“Aye.” Her lips quirked. “You might have heard of him … Alar mac Struana.”

Silence fell in the cave.

Kayla was the first to break it. “The prince consort is your brother?”

“My half-brother,” Fern replied with a shrug. “It’s complicated.”

“And this friend of yours?” Ailsa asked.

Fern smiled at her. “You’ve met him before. Eagal … a large raven. He carried a scroll to Alar.” She paused then, her expression sobering. “However, he doesn’t know Niall is about to move.”

“How long will it take us to reach Duncrag from here?” Kayla asked, briskly moving the discussion on.

“Seven days … if we ride hard,” Fern replied with a deft nod.

Darach nodded too. However, his thoughts had circled back to his reckoning with Niall—the moment on the battlefield when he’d finally run a sword through his brother’s chest.

Until now, Niall had always been one step ahead.

That had to change.

Darach became aware then that Ailsa was looking his way. Her expression told him she’d guessed at the direction of his thoughts. He didn’t care that she’d caught him out. For years now, he’d lived in the shadows, being forced to survive by his wits and his blade while his brother gloated over his victories.

No more. He was about to even the score.

Their gazes held for a long moment before Ailsa’s attention shifted to Kayla and then Fern, before flicking back to him. “So, we’re all united in our goals?”

Darach didn’t hesitate. “Aye.”

Kayla nodded, even as her features tightened slightly. Her gaze that lingered upon Ailsa was shadowed.

Meanwhile, Fern’s lips curved. “Looks like it.”

“Well then.” Ailsa smiled back. “I guess we’re leaving at first light.”

13: A WISE CHOICE

IT WAS JUST like old times: Darach rode Rùn while Ailsa perched on the saddle behind him, arms loosely looped around his waist.

Only it wasn’t.

The first time they’d ridden together, she’d clung to him because she barely knew how to stay astride a horse. Now, she kept her balance easily, yet held onto him out of habit.

And because the contact reassured her.

Neither of them spoke much, the silence between them both companionable and weighted.

They’d set off early, just before dawn’s blush brightened the eastern sky.

Like the day before, Fern bounded ahead on her stag, Cern, circling back intermittently to make sure all was well. Meanwhile, Kayla rode a few yards in front of Darach and Ailsa upon her cob named Thicket. The cob’s heavy feathered hooves spat out turf behind him.

Rùn stumbled then, throwing Ailsa up against Darach’s broad back.

Her belly dipped in response.

Darach’s time at Craeg Aonaranach had taken a toll on him. His new clothes were too loose, his face gaunt—and she’d seen the bruises that mottled his body, the scabbed cuts and scrapes. He’d been in a state when he arrived at the falls the night before, yet she was as drawn to him as she’d ever been.