9
I held in my outburst until we were halfway up the mountain. Fergus led the way and Wulfgar walked behind me. I wore a silky dress that left my arms bare and a wreath of white flowers on my head. My hair was unbound.
My steps slowed when Wulfgar caught me around the hips.
“Are your legs weary, Muriel?”
“No.” But I couldn’t make them move.
Fergus grinned back at me. “Do ye wish me to carry ye over my shoulder? ‘Twill be a fine sight, but it might muss your wee crown.” He plucked a flower from my headdress. I swatted him halfheartedly.
“What’s wrong, Muriel?”
“I fear for you.”
Wulfgar wrapped his arm around my waist and lifted me, carrying me off the path into the forest. Once there, he set me down in front of a lichen-covered boulder. “Place your hands on the rock, Muriel.”
“Wha
