Page 43

Chapter

Thirty-Eight

Adara

“ H ave you allies in Guston? Any who would rise against your father?”

All eyes landed on her.

Adara licked her lips. “I believe most would follow me if it comes to a battle. However, many do not want to risk their livelihood to usurp someone that, if they lost, could come down harder on them. They would need a guaranteed win.”

Someone behind her snorted. Paul rolled his eyes, throwing his hands to the roof then turning away. From Grahame’s other side, another man shouted an oath.

“We would like the same, though it appears we do not have the option. We must fight,” Branton’s deep voice drowned out the others. He cocked his head as Adara met his stare, a mocking challenge in his blue eyes.

Adara swallowed around the dryness of her throat, brushing her clammy hands on her skirts. Across the room Yrsa ran a hand through her shortened hair, tossing a look of warning to Ridley he didn’t catch. Rather, his gaze remained fixed on Adara, narrowing.

“Fickle allies are not welcome, as much as they are needed.”

Adara ground her teeth against the ire that swelled. The backs of her eyes prickled. She would not show her frustration with tears. These people rightly hated her, yet she still had to fight for those who were their adversaries. She felt as if her limbs were being pulled on the rack.

“They are not fickle. They are concerned with living,”she said.

“As are we!” a male voice shouted.

She shifted her gaze to the table, to the grain of the wood, choking on her pride.

“Be mindful of how you speak to my wife.”

Grahame’s voice sliced through the room. It was enough to silence the angry murmurs. Slowly, he stood, claiming attention. The fire’s warm light slithered over his strong jaw, the column of his throat.

“Clayton house has arms. It has allies. We have promised reparations to those in Hyrstow who have suffered. I know it will never be enough. We will continue to strive to make repairs. However, this can only happen if we reclaim Clayton House!”

Grahame’s shoulders rose, making him appear larger. He braced his knuckles on the table top, his jaw grinding as he allowed those gathered to mull over his words.

“I am Hyrstow’s son. We will have our vengeance. I swear it.”

Murmurs rumbled through the room. The people of Hyrstow were not simple-minded. As much as they resented her for her role in their suffering, they recognized a forced ally.

“He will!” Ridley’s voice boomed around the room.

Adara startled, twisting toward him.

Hyrstow’s chieftain had stalked to the head of the table. Arms crossed, a confident smile grew within his trimmed beard. He spoke with such authority Adara completely understood why he’d been such a force for his earldom.

“Adara is Eadric’s heir. Grahame, her husband. If we can get inside Clayton House, get to Eadric, we can remake his earldom.” He nodded toward Grahame. “You are Hyrstow’s son. You will be Earl if we make it so.”

The words rang around the room, sinking into those assembled. Every gaze flew to her husband. Adara saw Grahame blanch under the weight.

“I am not…” he trailed off. For once, Grahame did not have a jovial retort.

She knew he saw himself as a shepherd, married into power. Adara surmised the farthest he’d thought ahead was to survive the visit with her father. Perhaps ruling Clayton House with her, if he chose to remain. Granted, that was before her father had attacked.

Ridley did not speak falsely. She was Eadric’s heir. And though claiming the earldom was another risk entirely, it was the quickest way to ensure the safety of her people and his.

Another voice joined the hot murmuring of those assembled.

“Grahame is a born ruler,” Yrsa said, standing beside Ridley, navy eyes shining.

She looked them both in the eye. “Adara moreso. I’ve seen first hand what they can do together.

And if the earl of Bernira has come to shatter the lands of a woman who cares for her people, who knows how to rule, he knows nothing. We will triumph, because we have her .”

It was Adara’s turn for speechlessness. A flush spread from her chest up to her cheeks. Part of her agreed with Yrsa—she felt the innate call to rule and could understand the weight it carried—yet another part screamed her failures.

Elvin had cowed her. Grief had warped her. Revenge had driven her to amass a wealth of wrongdoings. Now, she was nothing more than a discarded daughter, a shepherd’s wife. Whatever power she had held was scattered in her lands at her father’s hand.

“You think Grahame can be an earl? What you speak of has not been done. Bernira must have a cousin, an uncle, that would claim the title if Eadric is gone.” Paul’s tone ensured the others would doubt Ridley and Yrsa’s assessment. It was bold.

“There are none,” Adara croaked.

Heads turned to her. She took a breath, her own gaze finding Grahame’s.

The doubt in his handsome features caused her heart to go out to him.

Grahame did not think himself worthy of much.

It was why he put on a jovial front with his friends.

Yet he held a quiet strength and natural air of ability that others followed.

Adara confirmed what Ridley wished.

“My father has no relatives. His father was Earl before him and he is dead. His uncles have died, and no sons were sired. My father has kept hold of his earldom with brutal will. Much to his disappointment, I am his only surviving child.”

A cacophony of shouts threatened to bring down the high, thatched roof. She stared at her husband and he stared back, unwavering faith in his gaze. It caused Adara to tremble. That faith bolstered her.

Slowly, Adara stood. She looked to Ridley, to Yrsa, even Branton. She pressed her hands to her thighs, willing strength into her words.

“Grahame will be a wonderful leader. He is diplomatic yet ruthless when need be. He understands finances and people. I have knowledge of tenants, food stores, and the earldom. Together, we make a formidable pair. Anyone blind to that is free to leave, though I implore you to consider whether you’d prefer the pair of us or the rule of my father if he manages to take what he wants.

Guston, Hyrstow—these lands have a long memory.

He sees them as something owed. But what if Hyrstow’s son becomes an earl?

Bernira would be ours, the conflict no more. ”

Adara did not allow herself to dwell over the treason she just spoke about. Rather, she turned to Hyrstow’s chieftain, whose mouth twitched upward.

“Adara’s right. I would rather have Bernira ruled by one of our own than wait for it to claim us,” he said.

The words settled over the others amid contemplative sips of ale. No one spoke for long moments, their gazes fixed on their hands, the table, the roof.

“Let us discuss this amid our own people,” Ridley offered.

It was a gesture of goodwill. One Adara was glad for. She backed away from her seat. To her surprise, Grahame threaded his fingers through hers, following.

Outside, the late-morning air was fresh and joyous, a contradiction to the stifling conversation.

Bursts of blue and vermillion flowers decorated the path between the huts.

Arm in arm, they hobbled north, making their way past the hall to the road that led out of Hyrstow.

Several women passed as they went, their attention locked on Grahame.

One sighed, her mouth folded in a frown.

Indifferent, Grahame slung his good arm around Adara’s shoulder. She wrapped her arm around his waist, her hand landing on his muscled side. His lips traced the shell of her ear.

“What if we remained here? Defended our lands and built a little house on my parent’s hill? Your father might retreat and leave us be. What if we simply loved one another until the end of time?”

Adara ducked her chin to her chest. The backs of her eyes prickled at the vision she knew would not come true. She released a scoff, adding to the illusion.

“Indeed, we could have Bran cut new timber, have Ewan build the hut. We could set to work on making babies.”

“Aye, I’d have a baby in you by fall. It would be a girl; I’ve always wanted one, despite the need for a dowry. A girl first, to help soften the four boys that would come after.”

A tear slipped down her cheek as a little laugh escaped. She was grateful to have never had a child with Elvin though the thought of not having a baby with Grahame suddenly created a deep ache within her soul.

“And you would take over your father’s flock, and we would travel to markets all year long and make so much coin we would never want for anything. The children would grow to know how to work hard and love harder.”

Adara looked up to find Grahame’s chin wobbling as he, too, stared at the horizon.

“I would keep you in the gowns you love, of course,” he said, his voice shaky.

“Of course.”

“And there would be no need for war, no need for the earldoms to hate one another. We would be safe. Our families and our friends would be safe. And we would love one another until the end of our days, happy.”

They halted on a slight hill before it turned downward into a singed, black field that should have been barley.

Adara nodded, unable to speak around the lump in her throat.

Grahame cleared his own. He pulled her into his chest, shuddering breaths rattling from both of them.

Tears blurred Adara’s eyes enough to close them.

“If there is any hope of that future, we must fight. You must become earl.” Her words felt like stones she used to beat him with. He’d never wanted that future.

“Aye,” Grahame said, his voice thick with gravel, “I know. But, I can only do that with you by my side.”

Adara opened her mouth, an apology for changing his life so drastically at the ready.

“No,” he said, his tone firming as he cupped her cheek.

His thumb trailed over her healed split lip.

“You will not say what you’re about to say.

You think you’re so good at hiding, ’Dara.

But I know you. You feel guilt over what is required of me.

I can understand it—we never thought it would come to this.

I was yours long before our wedding day and have been every moment after. ”

He bent to place a kiss on her lips. It was bittersweet and gentle. When he drew away, his lips were turned upward like a flower rising to the sun.

“I will do what is best for you. And Hyrstow. And Goddamn Guston. I will do what is right, but only if you rule by my side. My only request is that you see that future, the one we just spoke of, as real. No more talk of trapping. No more guilt. You love me with your whole heart. It’s you and me. As one. Against everything.”

If Adara’s heart could have burst, it would have.

Her actions had cornered him into that fate.

And yet, he didn’t hesitate when needed.

Grahame would be hers and her earldom’s, by his own choice.

She had no words. Rather, she let her hands and hips and mouth speak.

She pressed herself into her husband with everything she had, wishing her love was enough to see them through it all.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” he murmured against her lips.

Adara grinned, her arms encircling him, and nodded.