Page 84 of Fang & Fury

Kayla smiled. “Once … although these days, it feels as if that life belonged to someone else.”

“She didn’t distract you, did she?” Ailsa asked, motioning to Darach’s thigh.

Kayla huffed. “No.”

“That’s a relief to hear.” Darach gingerly rolled off the table and pulled up his breeches, lacing them. “Thank you, Kayla.” His gaze then flicked to Ailsa. “Thanks to both of you … you’ve given this reckless bastard a second chance.”

Ailsa’s lips tugged into a soft smile. “Aye, well … you deserve one.”

Ailsa followed Kayla up the stairwell. It was narrow and steep, crammed between two thick stacked-stone walls, and they were following a guard up to one of the higher levels of the broch.

They were on their way to see Gil and Mairead, as promised.

It was early, but this wasn’t a day to linger in the furs.

Kayla and Ailsa had been given an alcove to share, while Darach had one of his own on another level, as befitting his rank. As such, the women hadn’t disturbed him when they’d risen, eaten a quick breakfast of oatcakes and butter, and set off.

“Have you noticed how comfortable Darach looks here?” Ailsa panted as they passed yet another floor. Duncrag’s broch was huge; she’d lost count of how many levels they’d just climbed. “I swear, you could put a crown on him today, and he’d look right at home.”

Kayla cut her a look over her shoulder. “He certainly does … and others have noticed it too. The queen was eyeing him warily yesterday though. And yet, she’s still invited him to a war council this afternoon.”

Ailsa marked the glint in her mentor’s hazel eyes. “They didn’t ask you to join them as well?”

Kayla pursed her lips. “No.”

“You’re offended?”

Kayla snorted, turning away.

“You are?”

“I just thought they might like the benefit of my opinion on a few things, that’s all.”

Ailsa smiled. Why didn’t that surprise her? Kayla liked to feel in control of things; she hated being excluded.

“Rank matters in a place like this,” Ailsa said after a brief pause. “Out in the wild, you don’t give it much thought.” Indeed, on the road, nobody had cared where she slept, who spoke first, or whether a prince shared a fire with a tattooist. But here, everything had a place.

Her voice must have had an edge to it, because Kayla glanced back at her once more. “Prince or not, he’s still Darach. Don’t let any of these trappings fool you. Kings or beggars, we’re all the same when it comes down to it. We all bleed. We all die.”

Ailsa raised her eyebrows at this. Kayla was even pricklier than usual this morning.

If she had to guess, being at Duncrag—being reminded of the life she could have had—was affecting her.

The final landing loomed ahead, where their escort awaited them.

He was an enforcer, a big brute with a shaven head, blue woad tattoos coiling like snakes up his arms and neck. He wore a vexed expression, clearly unimpressed that he’d been saddled with escorting them.

Ailsa couldn’t blame him entirely for that. Enforcers weren’t scholars or seers. They were weapons. Earth magic flooded their bodies until violence became instinct. Someone who wasn’t blessed by the gift wouldn’t be able to handle the sheer amount of power that surged through their veins when roused.

Not for the first time since hearing Kayla’s numerous warnings, Ailsa wondered what damage Gregor had done to those warriors.

In battle, it might tear them all apart.

“In there,” the enforcer grunted, nodding to the curtained doorway.

Kayla led the way, pushing aside the heavy curtain and entering the alcove.

Ailsa followed her and stepped into the wide space with floor-to-ceiling shelving. Neat piles of scrolls filled each wooden shelf.