Page 80 of Fang & Fury

“Something to remember me by.” Fern’s lips tilted into a slightly embarrassed smile.

Ailsa turned the feather over in her hands, warmth suffusing her chest. “Thank you.”

Nodding briskly, Fern tightened the strap holding her quiver in place and glanced over her shoulder at the gates that were slowly creaking open.

Wordlessly, the huntress stepped back and turned on her heel.

And as Ailsa, Darach, and Kayla looked on, she stalked away through the gates without looking back.

A moment later, Eagal launched himself from the battlements. With a harsh cry, he wheeled once above the courtyard before following her into the gathering dusk.

Watching him fly away, Ailsa curled her fingers around the feather.

25: I SAW SOMETHING IN YOU

Somewhere in The Uplands

NIALL WALKED THROUGH the camp, watching as warriors lit cookfires and put up tents. Another day on the march had ended.

They had reached the eastern edge of the mountains now and would soon cut south to Doure. From there, they’d take the Western Road through The Borderlands.

Niall’s breathing clouded the cold air. Although winter was waning, the weather still hadn’t warmed. He’d awoken to hard frosts the last couple of days and marched under cold blue skies.

His gut tightened then.

The days had passed, yet there had been no word of Darach and the tattooists.

His warriors should have hunted them down by now. They should have met the Circines on their way back along this road. But they hadn’t.

Clenching his hands at his sides, he quickened his step. Curse it.

He couldn’t risk the High Queen knowing about his army.

He wouldn’t relax until they dragged his brother’s corpse before him, until Ailsa and Kayla were in chains.

Continuing his path, he wove between the Circines as they readied the camp for the night. As always, he didn’t walk unescorted. Maol and four other warriors he’d brought from Braewall followed him. Silent, watchful shadows.

Niall passed a woman who was striking a flint and steel together, starting a fire. She glanced up, her gaze meeting his.

For an instant, they just looked at each other, and then the woman recognized him.

Her eyebrows drew sharply together, and her full mouth twisted. Heat flashed in her sky-blue eyes.

He kept walking. However, he paid more attention to their faces now, their eyes. Aye, he couldn’t miss the stares, the way some of the warrior’s fingers clenched around the hilts of the daggers or throwing knives strapped to their bodies.

Only Gregor’s binding sigil kept them leashed.

They’d have torn him to pieces otherwise.

Fighting a scowl, Niall turned right before making a wide circle back to the center of the camp, back to the safety of his pavilion, where he wouldn’t have to see their faces.

By the time he pushed aside the flap and ducked inside, his mood was sour.

“Wine!” he barked as he heeled off his boots by the entrance.

A slave darted toward the ewer and cups sitting ready on a low table.

Hastily, the lad—a Circines boy who was too young and spindly to wield a blade—poured him a drink and brought it over to him.