Warprize

Chapter 11

I laughed, delighted at my freedom, at the sun on my face, at the wind in my hair. The horse danced under me, eager to go. I wheeled it to face the city and the castle. I could go home.

The wind blew my hair into my face, and I used one hand to clear it away. I could go home, back to my old life, as if nothing had happened. Run to the kitchens and Anna’s loving arms and Othur’s grin and pick up the tatters of my life. Rebuild the stillroom, make Xymund see reason, and…

What if Keir was right? What if Xymund had tried to have me killed?

If I returned to the castle, I’d be under his authority. Anna and Othur may love me dearly, but they couldn’t stand between us.

Even more, if I returned to the castle, I returned to the known. The commonplace, daily routine of my life. Yet I’d been ripped up by the roots and the pot had been broken, and I wasn’t sure that I’d fit there ever again. Much less grow.

I hesitated, and wheeled the horse again. It puffed out its breath and stamped at the grass. This time we faced the road that led to the valley. I had skills, and there’d be those that would help me. I could go to the lands that my father left me, and start that school, living out my days teaching and healing. I could even leave for some foreign land. With some supplies and a few coins I could make my way anywhere in this world. Leave Keir and Xymund to weave their pattern and get myself out of this tangle that they called a ‘peace’.

The horse shook its head, jingling its tack, and stamped its feet, as if in disapproval.

If I tried to make my own way, I’d break a promise that my Blood had sworn to the people when Xy had first taken the throne. I might be free of my slavery to the Warlord, but my oaths and my duty still held me to my people. For it seemed to me that for the peace to have any chance, I must be at Keir’s side.

I wheeled it again and turned to look at the camp. I could hear Joden’s voice. “You are free, Lara. The only restraints on you are those of your own choosing.”

My breath caught in my throat. The camp of the Warlord, the camp of the dreaded Firelanders. A people who were a total mystery to me, for I had no idea of what my life would be like among them, or what awaited me at the Heart of the Plains. The camp of a man who was risking everything on the chance of building something better. Stronger. Brighter. For both our peoples.

Returning to the camp and Keir was a risk. A wild unknown, for no one could tell if his plans would survive to the dawn, much less work. And there was no way to predict what would happen to any of us if he failed.

There was another aspect to all of this, grand plans and kingdoms aside. I flushed to think of it. For certain, a Daughter of Xy contemplating her duties and obligations was not supposed to think of the touch of a man’s hand in the night, or how a simple brush of lips on her neck could raise such a heat in her breast. No, a loyal Daughter of Xy should think only of her duties and obligations, as I had when I knelt in the throne room to surrender myself to slavery.

And yet, what I had thought a claiming, had been a seduction.

What I had thought were chains, were tokens.

What I had thought was pride of possession in a certain pair of blue eyes was… the promise of a lifetime? Hope rose in my breast like a sunrise. There was but one way to find out. That was the only certainty I had. If I took either of the other paths, up to the castle, or out to my lands, I’d never know the answers. Or I could take the biggest risk of all, and open my heart and myself to Keir. Of all the possibilities, of all the paths, it was that one that set my blood afire. A future full of risk and dangers, potential and promise. For him. For me. For us.

I laughed and urged the horse on, and once again it sprang forward with a willingness. Down the rise we went, the horse’s hooves churning the soil. We galloped through the gate, without so much as a hail of the guard. I caught a brief glimpse of their expressions as we came back through, and laughed again, certain that they were thinking that I was no rider. I didn’t stop until I pulled the horse up outside my stilltent.

Joden was still standing there, and I could see the joy in his eyes as I slid from the saddle. Epor and Isdra ran to me, joy and relief on their faces.

“Thank the skies,” Epor spoke as I handed the reins to Joden.

“One more question.” I stood straight and looked Joden right in the eye. He grew serious, and nodded for me to continue. “Am I required to bear five children?”

He blinked, confused but then his face cleared. A smile crept back over his broad face. “No.”

“Where is he?” I demanded.

Now Joden’s whole face lit up, and he pointed past the tents to the practice grounds. I smiled, and turned to go.

“Warprize!” Epor stepped in front of me, his hand out, pleading. “Warprize, please let us to go with you. ”

Isdra added her voice. “Warprize, it’s worth our lives to let you—”

I stopped and turned. “And if I say ‘no’?”

Isdra swallowed hard. “We’d obey, Warprize.” Epor, his face gray, nodded his obedience as well. Joden just smiled at me.

“Come then,” I said as I turned and started to run. Joden laughed behind me, but in a thrice they were beside me, pacing me easily. As I neared Keir’s tent, I thought for a minute. I could go back and bathe, find that white shift and be waiting for him barefoot with my hair falling free…

No.

He had waited too long.

I had waited too long.

Not one minute more.

The practice ground was a large dirt circle, with the sod removed. Keir was squared off against two men as we came up. There was quite a crowd, including Simus, who was seated on a stool, making insulting comments, and urging them on. I had no idea what lessons were being taught, I only had eyes for one man.

One tall, blue-eyed, sweaty man.

No one noticed as I moved to the edge. I stopped to catch my breath and watched him flow around the other men, using their movements against them. He was in bright chainmail with the black under-padding. He had on a coif, and was using two wooden swords. The men fighting him were using shields and wooden swords. The dust was thick as they shuffled about, trying to flank Keir, but only tripping over themselves. Keir’s face was a snarl of concentration, completely focused on his opponents. I could watch for hours. I would watch for hours. But right now I had other things on my mind.

“Keir.” I called.

His head swivelled around, homing in on my face at the exact moment one of his opponents was in mid-swing with his wooden sword. It ‘thwacked’ Keir right in the ass. I winced at the sound. The attacker jumped back, horrified as the watchers laughed, Simus loudest of all. Keir ignored them. He looked worried as he walked over to me, tilting his head to the side a little, lowering his weapons. My heart swelled, and I bounced on the balls of my feet.

“Warprize?”

Once he got close, I grabbed his shoulders, pulled myself up and kissed him. Hard. Keir was caught by surprise, and brought his arms up to embrace me, careful of the weapons in his hands. I laughed against his mouth, then gently bit his lower lip. “I want you.” I leaned back to see his face. Stunned, he blinked at me. “Now, my Warlord.” I released him, turned, and started walking for our tent. Epor and Isdra moved with me, but kept their distance.

“Warprize?” Keir called after me.

I looked over my shoulder at him, grinned, and started walking faster.

Simus was shouting his laughter, and I heard Keir curse as he started to follow. The warriors were calling, making encouraging noises, and some catcalls. I laughed and kept walking. I could hear chainmail jingling behind me, catching up. I threw a glance back, only to see that he was gaining on me.

I started to run.

I managed to reach the tent first, barely, darting through the flaps. Epor and Isdra stayed outside. I stood by the bed, turned and waited for him. He was a breath behind, breathing hard, dressed in that chainmail and leather outfit. As he advanced on me, it came to me that I didn’t really know what to do next.

I needn’t have worried. He swept me up and kissed me hard, using his hands to mold me to him. We tumbled onto the bed, Keir falling backwards with me landing on top. The breath left him in a rush, and I pulled back, concerned that I’d hurt him. His expression was so surprised, I started laughing. He looked up into my face, searching for the reason for my actions.

“Mine,” I said, staring into those blue eyes. I leaned down, letting my hair fall around his face. “My Warlord.” He opened his mouth to speak, and I darted down, kissing him, daring to take control. Only the lack of air forced me to pull back, and we both breathed hard for a moment. My hair made a curtain, sheltering his face. He licked his lips, eyes staring up into mine with a sense of wonder and a hint of disbelief.

“Say it.” I bent down, licking his cheek. He tasted of salt and dust. He tasted fantastic. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. I raised my head and smiled down at him.

“Yours?”

My heart swelled in my chest till I thought it would burst. “Mine. My Warlord. My Keir.” I leaned back down, and this time the kiss was a caress, a mutual exploration.

Till my hair got caught in the chainmail links.

Cursing, I let go of his hands to try to get my hair loose. Keir started to snicker at my efforts. He brought his arms around me and started laughing as I struggled with my hair. “My Warprize.” He smiled at me as I worked my hair free. “My Warprize.”

I carefully caught up my rescued hair and held it away from the evil mail links. I leaned down and whispered in his ear. “Take me, my Warlord.”

That wiped the smile right off his face. “Marcus!” he yelled as he rolled, moving me carefully over and onto the bed. Keir reached up to remove the coif from his head.

“Warlord?” Marcus popped in from the back room, surprise evident in his voice.

Keir had tossed the coif to the floor and was working on his belt. “Come help me get this off.” Marcus raised his eyebrow, then turned to look at me, lying on my side on the bed.

I smiled at him.

A smile started to creep over Marcus’s face. “At once, my Warlord.” He helped Keir remove the heavy chain suit and the padding underneath. Finally, Keir stood there in his black leather pants and his black boots. Keir’s eyes drilled into mine. I met his gaze head on, unafraid.

Marcus was picking up the various articles of armor and clothing that had been flung around. Keir never looked at him. “Thank you, Marcus. Leave us now.”

Marcus bowed himself out, a slight smirk on his face. Keir moved toward the privy enclosure. “Let me clean up…”

“No.” I sat up, my knees on the edge of the bed. “Come here.” He moved forward, standing in front of me. I just looked for a minute, staring into blue eyes. Hesitantly, I put my hands at his waistband. He sucked in a breath at my touch, and I froze, uncertain. His hand covered mine and moved it up his stomach to splay over his chest. I surged up a little, wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him with all the passion I had. He returned it with fervor, and gently lowered me onto the bed.

I tried to pull him down, to bring his body closer to mine, but he resisted. He hovered over me with concern in those bright blue eyes. “The first time, Lara, it’s not always good, it can hurt. I can ask an initiator, someone to teach you—”

I drew in all the air I could. “Only you, Keir. No initiators, no teachers.” I lifted my head, moving my lips over his face and chin. “Please.”

His eyes dilated in a breath, but still he paused. As he had before, he placed his hand over my heart. “ This is not your way, Xylara. Your people’s customs—”

I covered his mouth with my fingers. “There’s no Xy here, no Plains. There’s only you, only me.” Concerned, I pulled my hand back. “Unless you do not want—”

He kissed my fingers, then kissed me, removing my hesitation. Gently, he lowered himself to the bed, pulling me close so that we were on our sides, face to face. His other hand rubbed my hip, warming the skin beneath the cloth. His kisses were slow and stirring, and I returned them with a growing hunger. But a passive role no longer satisfied me. I was curious to know more and I placed my hands on his chest, exploring the expanse of skin and hair. To my delight, I discovered that a stroke of my hand burned his body just as his did mine, if his shivers were any guide. The sparse and curly hair was silky beneath my fingertips. The change in his breathing, the look on his face hinted of the power that lurked within me in the future. But for now, my touch was tentative, tracing faint scars and muscles.

Moving deliberately, he brought his hands under my tunic, and pulled it up and over my head. I flushed and closed my eyes when his hands moved to my breast band. He paused, his fingers resting just under the curves of my breasts. “What’s wrong?” he whispered.

“Nothing.” I breathed shallowly, conscious of his touch. “It’s just that I’m not very… ample.”

Warm blue eyes laughed at me as his hands moved under the cloth, and warmth surged over me as he cupped my breasts. “They’re perfect,” he murmured. I arched up, trying to remember to breathe, as he showed me just how perfect they were.

The breast band, our clothes, and the world disappeared. There was only us, and the smoldering desire between us. Every touch brought new discoveries and feelings such as I’d never known before. How could a puff of warm breath over dampened skin produce such sensations? Why did I tingle all over when Keir ran his fingers through my hair to fan it out over the pillows? How could the smallest kiss behind my ear provoke such passion?

I was floating on a sea of pleasure and contentment, melting onto the bed like gold in a fire. Keir raised his head to look at me. “You’re sure, Lara?”

“So very sure.” I smiled at him.

“Good.” He leaned in and kissed me, making a new and urgent demand with his mouth. I responded, recognizing something new in his caress. If I’d been molten gold before, now I was a storm raging through the mountains. I gasped, writhing in my efforts to touch more of him, to feel more, to know more —

I am a healer, wise in the ways of the flesh. How it moves, how it sickens, even how it dies. I knew of the mating process, had heard of the pleasures it affords, thought I knew its effects. None of that prepared me for the reality.

He moved slowly, carefully, driving me mad with the hunger he built in my soul, only to bring me down again to lay in his arms, trembling and achy. I clutched him to me, and begged for more, and he obliged, his soft laughter floating over us as he began again.

Then finally, finally I had him in my arms and in my body and we both froze, staring at one another.

“Lara, are you well?” His breathing was ragged, and I felt his shoulders tremble under my fingers as he held himself above me. “Did I hurt you?”

“Oh, Keir. My Keir.” I relaxed, warmed by his hesitation and shifted slightly, only to see the passion flare in his face. He kissed me even as he began to move, and there was joy and pleasure and transcendent light exploding within me and around us and through the very essence of our bonded souls.

I awakened to find myself tucked under a loving arm, my head on Keir’s chest. With my eyes closed, I took a deep breath and listened to his heart beat. I felt a deep sense of peace, a sense of belonging. I opened my eyes slightly. From the gleam of the braziers, I knew I had not been asleep long.

Keir’s hand was on his chest. I reached over and covered it with mine. His hand was so warm. I pulled it closer. The nails were cut straight across and trimmed close. I turned it over. There were calluses on the palm and fingers, from years of wielding a sword. I ran my fingers over his palm lightly, teas-ingly. The fingers were long and strong. I smiled and kissed the palm. And then traced the kiss with my tongue.

His fingers flexed quickly, then relaxed. I pulled back a little and blew over the damp spot. I was rewarded with a soft, low moan and followed up with a kiss to his wrist.

Keir chuckled and stroked my head with his other hand. “Was there some potion in your tent that turned the shy kitten into the wildcat?” he murmured.

I moved my head so I could look into his sleepy eyes, soft blue under half-closed lids. “I finally worked up the nerve to ask Joden if you had ever sold a warprize before. That’s when he explained the difference. Explained what a warprize is and means. That’s when he told me I was free. That, that you were…” I stopped. Those half-lidded eyes had opened wide, and blazed diamond bright.

“That I what?” I could feel the tension in his muscles and see the tightness of his jaw.

“That you were asking me to be your mate, your consort.” I dropped my eyes and pulled back. Perhaps Joden had been wrong, perhaps I…

Keir didn’t let me move. He simply held me against him, resisting my attempt to slip away. I looked up. His eyes had narrowed to slits, his face grim and hard. But his voice was soft and quiet when he spoke. “ Lara, what did Xymund tell you before the ceremony?”

I lowered my head to his chest again. His hand soothed my head, separating the strands of hair and letting his fingers run through it. I took a trembling breath and told him what Xymund had said. I explained the meaning of the word ‘slave’, then repeated what Joden had told me was the meaning of warprize. I stopped, out of breath.

Keir continued to stroke my hair. His voice was still soft when he spoke. “You weren’t afraid that night because you were untouched. You thought I was going to rape you.”

I looked up, to see hard eyes that held despair as well. I brought my hand to his cheek and left it there as I held his gaze. “I thought you were going to make use of what belonged to you, yes. But you took nothing that was not freely given.” His eyes never left mine. “So my fear became that you would take my heart and give me nothing in exchange.” I ran my thumb over his lips. “Or worse yet, that you would take my heart and then discard me, like a worn out boot.” His arm tightened around me for a moment. “When I heard Jo-den’s words, I knew that you had not been taking. That you had been giving. Giving me time. Giving me your heart.”

He admired me, stroking my cheek. “You have such courage.”

I blushed and lowered my gaze. Keir lifted my chin with his ringers. “And why does that embarrass you so?”

I turned my head. Keir stroked his fingers over my cheek and down under my ear, caressing my neck. “I love that blush. My wildcat, so very strong and yet so very vulnerable.” He kissed my neck, then moved to my collarbone, and started taking little tastes. “When I started the talks, I took your dear brother aside privately and explained everything to him. I wanted him to know that you would be courted with honor and desire.” I shivered at the way he said that word. He stopped and looked into my eyes. “Lara, I assumed that bastard had told you…” His voice choked. I soothed him with soft touches and kisses. “I was waiting for you to indicate that you were willing. I didn’t understand—” He cut himself off, then spoke quietly. “You have my heart, Lara.” His voice in my ear filled me with a wondrous sense of the lightness of this man. He placed his forehead against mine.

“My Warlord,” I whispered. He took my lips then, kissing me deeply.

We broke apart, and he chuckled. “We best get clean, before we find ourselves stuck to the furs.” He got up, and attended to details, padding naked like a large cat around the tent. While I admired him, I wasn’t comfortable that way. I pulled the furs up and tucked them under my arms to conceal myself. He returned, bringing me a cloth, and a tray with a sweating pitcher and some pears. “A gift from Marcus.” We drank the cold spring water and fed each other slices of pear, content in the silence between us.

Some juice ran down my chin and onto my neck and chest. I wrinkled my nose and smiled at Keir. “I’m going to need a bath in the morning.”

Keir darted in, and licked the juice trail with his tongue. I looked at him, startled. He looked back, his eyes dancing. Carefully removing the tray, he placed it on the floor by the bed. Then he pounced, rolling me over onto my back and covering me with his length.

I laughed. “Keir, I am all sticky.”

He growled, eyes gleaming in the light. “I am going to get you stickier.”

“It’s enough to cry challenge on him.” Simus growled.

My Warlord had invited Simus and Joden to eat the evening meal with us. Marcus muttered as he delivered the various dishes to the table, but there was a twinkle in his eye that caused me to flush whenever he looked at me.

“No, it’s not.” Keir helped himself to some of the spicy meat.

“He meant no peace!” Simus thumped his fist on the table, and the dishes rattled. “Telling his people that she is to be a ‘thing’.”

“Daughters of Xy are born to be given in alliance marriages, Simus.” I saved one of the bowls from falling. “I came willingly, to forge a peace.”

‘To bind partners together for gain? Who is the barbarian, Warprize?“ Joden looked at me intently.

“He lies to her, and to his people, and sends men to kill her.” Simus clenched his mug. “Challenge and gut him.” He was deadly serious.

“We have no proof—” I started, but Keir leapt in.

“He gave you poison.”

“In the same way you grant mercy to your wounded.”

“No,” Keir shook his head. “He knew the truth, Lara. It’s not the same.”

“What of Iften, then?” I helped myself to the bread. “That lance was full-tipped.”

“Eh?” From the looks on their faces, it was clear that Keir had not told them about the marketplace. Keir told them now, in short crisp words, and they both grew quiet, thinking of the implications. Simus sighed heavily. “Well, that changes some well laid plans.”

“What plans?” I asked.

“From the beginning, we’d hoped for conquest. The plan was to secure the city and then split the army, with Keir remaining here. I’d return to the Plains, and bring more men in the spring.” Simus picked up his mug. “Now, Keir must return to the Heart of the Plains.”

“Leaving Simus with no one to watch his back.” Keir scowled. “I’ll not leave him here with Iften.”

“I could stay.” Joden’s voice was soft.

Simus shook his head violently. Keir raised an eyebrow. “What of your plans to advance to Singer during the snows? Stay here, and it will be another year before you can—”

“He’s going.” Simus was firm. “I’ll not see that dream delayed, Joden.”

Joden looked down. “The Elders may not—”

“You’ve been punished.” Simus’s dark eyes twinkled as he changed the subject. “Speaking of that, have you started to work on the song?”

Joden nodded.

“Tell us the chorus at least, Joden.” Simus gestured with a hand, almost spilling my kavage. “Are we to wait until you perform it to hear it?”

“No.” Joden chewed on a chicken leg. “Yes.”

“No fair.” Simus turned to Keir. “You’re the Warlord. Order him to give us a hint.”

Keir snorted. “Order a singer?”

Simus leaned toward me, a wicked gleam in those dark eyes. “You’re the Warprize. You could…” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“If she does,” Joden spoke calmly, “the verses will talk about a certain wounded warrior who got fat and lazy as he healed.”

Simus looked down at his third plate-full. “I need food to mend. Isn’t that right, little healer?”

I looked at him, keeping my face serious. “Simus, the entire army could heal on what you eat.”

Keir and Joden roared. Simus tried not to laugh as he objected to my statement.

“What’s the ruckus?” Marcus entered with more kavage. Keir and Joden explained over Simus’s protests of innocence. “Ah, there’s truth in what the Warprize says.” Marcus poured for all of us. “Your gut will soon over hang your belt.”

“Lara.” I looked Marcus straight in the eye. “My name is Lara.”

Keir, Simus and Joden all busied themselves with their food. Marcus ignored me.

“Marcus,” I sat up very straight, determined to win this point. “I wish to be called ‘Lara’.”

His one eye flashed at me; Marcus was not a happy man. He put the pot of kavage on the table, bowed and turned to go.

“Marcus, stop.” He stopped where he was, but didn’t turn to face me. “Marcus, I order—”

Joden choked on his kavage. Simus sucked in a breath between his teeth, and Keir had his hand over his eyes. Apparently, I was about to do something very, very foolish.

Marcus turned on his heel, his one eyebrow arched. “Yes?”

Utter silence from the three men at the table.

“Marcus, it would mean a lot to me if you would call me ‘Lara’ occasionally.”

“I’ll think on it.” Marcus turned again and left.

Simus sighed. “You’re a brave one, little healer.”

“He wouldn’t hurt me.” I protested.

“Gruel. Cold gruel and watery kavage for a month.” Keir shuddered. “I’ve learned the hard way not to cross Marcus.”

“Aye to that,” Joden said and Simus agreed.

It was late when Simus and Joden left. I stripped and got under the furs, and waited for Keir to return from checking the watch. The braziers gave off their heat and a familiar glow lit the tent.

Keir returned, and I looked up at him with a smile.

He frowned and gave me a look. “We will sleep now, Warprize. You will be sore enough in the morning. ”

I smiled, reached out my hand, and pulled him into the bed.

Marcus’ voice cut through the morning fog. “Your lazy butts best be moving. There’s a morning senel. Less than a mark to make ready.” I could hear him moving about, readying the privy area. “There’s more water warming. You can break your fast at the senel. I’ve a pitcher of kavage waiting. Shake yourselves now.” I heard him move off, but wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. Keir and I had ‘ discussed’ matters for quite some time.

A hand stroked my warm cheek. I lifted my head and blinked sleepily into his eyes. Keir rolled me over and kissed me. “When you look like that, all drowsy and sweet it’s all I can do not to…”

“None of that, now.” Marcus came back into the room, with more warm water. He went into the privy area.

Keir sighed deeply, then kissed me again. He pulled his head back, just as I started to return the kiss with a rising passion. “None of that, now,” he whispered. I smiled at him. He sighed again, and levered himself up and off the bed. “I’d best go first.” He looked down at my face as an idea crossed my mind. He glared. “Alone.”

I threw him a disgusted look.

Marcus left, and Keir went to clean up. I lay there for a moment, basking in the remaining warmth. Then I arched my back, preparing to stretch… and stopped.

Oooo. That hurt.

I must have made a noise, because Keir was next to me in an instant, a towel wrapped around his waist. Water droplets clung to his arms and chest.

“Are you all right?”

I blinked and just admired him. He looked down at me, slowly smiled, and repeated his question. “I’m fine.” I smiled at him. Marcus came into the room, and I flushed slightly, adjusting the blanket a bit higher. “My arm’s a little sore, that’s all.”

Keir frowned, then understanding came into his eyes. “Perhaps you should stay in bed today.”

I tilted my head and smiled wider. “Only if you stay with me.” His eyes flared, and I seemed to see some movement underneath the towel. My smile expanded.

He mock growled and stalked off toward the privy. “Marcus! Send a runner for Gils. I want him to look at her arm.” With that, his high and mightiness entered the privy and dropped the flap behind him.

Marcus looked over at me, concerned. “Is it the arm that’s hurting?”

I busied myself with the placement of the furs. “No.”

Marcus smiled. “Ah.” He left, whistling tunelessly as he did so.

After I bathed, Marcus stood over me as Gils changed the bandage and administered fever’s foe. The wound was very sore, but looked well. Marcus grunted when Gils was done and whisked him out of the tent. He’d not be allowed to serve this time.

I could hear the men gathering in the main area and tried to concentrate on putting my hair up and out of my way. Keir came up behind me and captured my hands. “Leave it down. Please?” He ran his fingers through the half-formed bun and shook it out. I sighed as he pulled me up and over to the flap.

Marcus played herald for us, bearing Keir’s token, and the men rose as we made our way to our seats. Trays of food were brought out and pitchers of kavage were quickly passed around. I dug in, hungry. Keir sparked conversation, asking about the status of men, gear and supplies.

I listened as I ate, noting that Keir seemed very satisfied with the responses. Simus was also asking questions and listening, but while both men seemed to concentrate on the talk, and the food, I knew their attention was also on Iften, sitting off to the far side, nursing some kavage. Iften made no move to join the conversation, but also drew no attention to himself.

Marcus went out for a moment to speak with the guards, then returned. When he had caught Keir’s eye, he spoke. “A messenger from the castle.”

Keir nodded. “I was hoping to hear from Warren. Bring the messenger in.”

The flap parted, and a figure walked in. With the light behind him, I could not make out his face until he drew nearer. It was Heath. My face split into a delighted smile. “Heath.” I stood and went over to him, wrapping him in an enthusiastic hug. He returned it with gusto, then pulled back. As always, his hand came up to cup my neck and he pulled his forehead to mine.

“Lara. Are you well?” His whisper was fierce and hard, a contrast to his smiling face.

I nodded, still resting my forehead on his. “Well, very, very well.” I lifted my head and smiled at him. “ Come, sit with me. Eat.”

He shook his head, speaking in a low voice. “No. I’ve a message to deliver and I don’t know how it will be received. Go. Return to your seat.”

I frowned. “Something’s wrong.” It was there in his eyes.

Heath released me and gave me a slight push. I returned to my seat, casting a glance at Keir, who had a concerned look on his face.

Heath advanced another step, and then sank to one knee, bowing before Keir.

“Welcome.” Keir indicated that Heath could rise, but Heath did not do so. Keir continued, “Do you bring word from Lord Warren?”

“Warlord, I was sent by Xymund, the King.”

Keir gestured for him to continue.

“Warlord, the message I was given was of treachery. Of an attack upon Xymund by Lord Warren as he rode through the city.” Keir sat up straight as Heath took a deep breath. “They are not true words, but I will repeat them if you so desire.”

Keir and Simus tensed. The men about me stopped their idle talk and stilled, conscious of a new tension.

Heath continued. “Warlord, my true mission was to kill…” His voice faltered. “… the King told me that upon entrance to the tent he was sure that Lara would approach me and greet me as she is like to do. Upon her approach, I was to strike and kill her.”

Keir was feral still, his voice deep and soft and full of menace. “How so? I see no weapon.”

“Like so, Warlord.” Heath extended his arm, twisted his wrist. A blade the length of a child’s hand sprang forth from under his sleeve. It gleamed, sharp and deadly in the light.

The reaction was immediate. The men around me jumped up, some forming a barrier in front of me, the others pulling their weapons and pointing them at Heath. I stood, fearful for his life, but Keir stopped all movement with a gesture of his hand.

“Yet the Warprize is safe, and you are on your knees before me.”

Heath nodded and swallowed. With quick movements, he removed the hidden blade from his arm as he spoke, “Xymund swore fealty to you, Warlord, and my oath to Xymund then flows through to you. I would not have this stain on my soul. Lara is as a sister to me, and I could not…” His voice cracked under the strain. He threw the mechanism at Keir’s feet and sat back on his heels, slumped in sorrow. “ Xymund holds my parents as guarantee that I would perform this action. He will kill them if my mission fails.”

“Anna and Othur,” I looked at Keir, my heart in my throat.

“I fear that he has been touched by the Goddess,” Heath continued. “I have no other explanation.”

“What does that mean?” Keir looked at me.

“Insane. Mad.” My hand rose to my lips. “Heath, he can’t be—”

“Lara, he changed the day he swore fealty to the Warlord. After you left, he raved for hours.” Heath wiped sweat off his forehead with the heel of his hand. “I swear the defeat did something to him.”

“Sit. Sit,” Simus spoke, gesturing for everyone to return to their seats. Keir nodded, and everyone sat down. I took a step toward Heath, but a quick glance at Keir showed that it would not be a good idea. Undecided, I hesitated. Keir’s jaw was tight, his eyes hard on Heath. I moved to stand behind my Warlord, resting my hand on his shoulder. At my touch, some of the tension left him.

Simus broke the silence. “So the serpent shows his fangs.”

Keir nodded. “If his wits have been taken by the winds, how stands the castle? The city walls?”

“Xymund had me escorted to the rise that overlooks your camp. Two watchers remain there, waiting. They will return to Xymund with word of what occurs within your camp.” Heath raised his head to meet Keir’s eyes. “I believe that once my father and Warren are freed—”

“Warren is held?” Simus leaned forward to ask.

Heath nodded. “He was imprisoned after the Warlord came to the castle.”

“What of the city?” Keir asked again, drawing Heath back to the.subject.

“Warlord, if Othur and Warren are freed, I believe that the army and the palace guards will listen to them. Xymund is the ordained King, but evidence of his madness grows by the hour.”

Keir nodded. With quick words, he translated events for those that didn’t speak Xyian. Once done, his eyes dropped to Heath’s kneeling form and returned to my language. “Rise, Heath. You have risked much, and spared the Warprize. I will not forget this. Where are your parents held?”

Heath stood. “There are cellars, Warlord, under the kitchens. They are confined there, with the rest of the kitchen staff. Xymund took no risk that word would leak before I arrived here.”

Keir nodded and switched tongues again. “Prest, Rafe, you have been to the castle and the kitchens. Pick men to go with us to secure the hostages. Keep the group small. Joden, take charge of the camp. We will make it appear that the Warprize is slain and that the camp is in confusion. But under the cover of that confusion, let men prepare to mount and ride for the castle. Xymund has breeched the peace through his actions, and I will have his head.”

I started, squeezing Keir’s shoulder. He did not look at me, turning to look at Simus instead. “Simus, I ask that you undertake the protection of the warprize personally. Designate whatever men you need to hold her safe. Once the commotion has started, place the army on alert.”

Iften rose at that. “Warlord, it’s my place to take charge of the camp, not Joden.” He almost spat Joden’ s name.

Keir almost snarled. “Iften, if you had both feet planted on the earth, were bathed in flames, calling a wind, holding my token, and blessed by rain from the skies, still I would not trust you with my warprize.”

Marcus snickered, as did some of the others. Iften turned bright red, but held his tongue.

Keir looked at Heath, and once again switched tongues. “Heath, you will be a part of the rescue. Prest and Rafe speak your language. Stay close to them.” Keir covered my hand with his. “The warprize has faith in you. You will be given weapons. But if you should betray us, you are dead. Am I understood?”

“You are, Warlord.” Heath bowed his head.

Keir stood. “Talk amongst yourselves, but let no man leave the tent till we have completed our plans.”

The men moved to obey. Keir turned, and in one quick movement, blocked my view of the tent. He towered over me. I stood my ground and returned his look. He raised his hand and placed a finger against my lips. “Don’t,” he breathed. “I need you safe, need to know that you are well out of that treacherous dog’s hands.”

“Keir, he is my brother and lawful king. You can’t just kill him without…” I paused, torn.

Keir’s jaw tightened. “He has betrayed his people. He has broken his oath to me. He has tried to kill you, his blood and kin. His life is forfeit and it will be at my hand. Would you protect him even so?”

“Keir, we do not punish the insane for their actions. You can’t—”

“We hold that truth as well, Lara, unless the addled one is dangerous.”

“I know.” I closed my eyes, and looked away. “But he is of my blood and of the Blood of Xy.” I looked up into his eyes, trying to figure out how to explain. Xymund might be a poor ruler, and mad as well, but he was my half-brother, and my father had loved him.

Keir’s finger stroked my cheek. “I’m trying to understand, Lara.”

“I know.” I whispered. “I’m trying to figure it out myself. He threatens Anna and Othur, and this fragile peace between our peoples. Yet—”

“You would have him unharmed.” Keir grimaced. “I will try, Lara. But I make no promise.”

“Thank you.” I smiled.

Keir gave me a knowing look. “You will remain here, Warprize.”

“But—”

Keir grabbed my shoulders and gave me a firm shake. “Your oath now, that you will remain in this tent under protection. Or as the sun rises, I swear that I will chain you to a post before I leave.”

The fear was there, haunting his blue eyes. I nodded. “Waste no time. Save Anna and Othur. Do what you have to do. I will be here when you return.”

Relief flooded his face, and he kissed me, drawing me into his arms. I went willingly, and clung to him with all the strength I had, afraid for him. Afraid for the peace. He held me for a long moment before turning to the room. “Are we ready?” The men started to gather around him.

I moved to Simus’s side, clutched at his arm to get his attention. “Simus, you must go with him.” Simus looked down at me, puzzled. “Simus, he must not kill Xymund.” I shook his arm to make my point. “ Xymund is a sworn king. There must be agreement from the lords, proof that he breeched his oath.”

Simus nodded. “Keir knows that, little healer. He will…”

“Look at him, Simus.”

Simus did. His eyes narrowed as he took in Keir’s stance. “Maybe you are right.” He smiled down at me. “Leave it to me.” Simus moved next to Keir and began to speak. Keir shot me a glance, then turned to argue with Simus.

After a few minutes of debate, a compromise was struck. Simus and Joden would create the confusion in the camp. Under that cover Keir would leave with Prest, Rafe, and Heath to make for the castle kitchens to secure the hostages. Simus and Iften would lead a unit to secure the castle and join with Keir to confront Xymund. Joden would remain behind, taking command of the watch. I would remain safe within the tent, heavily guarded and under my oath not to leave. Epor and Isdra were summoned quickly, to take up a position inside the tent.

With a nod, Keir started all in motion. Voices cried out as if in horror, Keir’s voice rising above the others. Warriors started to rush out of the tent and mill about at the entrance, with cries of outrage. The guards outside could be heard to ask questions and to wail in response to the news. Simus strode out, crying for vengeance and calling for mounts.

Prest, Rafe, and Heath stood by the entrance. Heath had been fitted with helm and sword. They waited for Keir, who stood beside me, strapping on his swords. He nodded to them to proceed him and turned to me.

I placed my hand on his heart. The mail shirt he had put on felt cold under my fingers. “Be safe.”

He stared down at me, then gently gathered me into his arms, burying his face in my hair. “I will. I regret this, Lara. He is your blood and kin.” He raised his head, and I saw the anger in his eyes.

I nodded. “I know.” He nodded as well, released me, and with a swirl of his cape, left the tent. As the flap fell, I saw him speak to Marcus, who was standing just inside.

I stood there, afraid not so much for Keir’s physical safety as for the price of Xymund’s death. Guilty or not, he was a king, and the local lords who had agreed to the terms of the peace might rise in defiance of his death at the hands of the Warlord. He was also my brother, no matter his mistakes and misjudgments. I did not want to see him harmed. Those thoughts whirled around in my head as I stood there.

Marcus reentered the tent. He shook his head and guided me back to my seat. “Hisself will be fine, Warprize. Fretting does no good.” Within moments I found myself wrapped in a thick cloak and drinking warmed wine. Marcus watched me anxiously.

“It’s hard to wait,” I said quietly, looking into the goblet.

“Aye. I am thinking it takes more courage to be waiting then to be in the thick of things. A lesson I learned when my warrior days ended.” Marcus sat at my feet and picked up another goblet for himself. He refilled his cup and mine as well. “You barely ate a thing.” He pushed some of the tastier dishes my way. “Eat a bite and I will regale you with tales. Better than a singer, I am.”

“Really?” I reached for some bread.

“Aye. Would you like to know how I met Hisself?”

I nodded as I chewed. Marcus continued, “Twas out in the practice grounds. I was training the young ones sword fighting, putting them through their paces, when this wee bit of a lad, all blue eyes and soft curls comes into the circle, dragging a wooden sword behind him.” Marcus took a draught. “ ‘What’s this?’ says I. ‘Wanna fight’ says the lad.” Marcus grinned. “Hisself too small to wield a sword almost as big as him. ‘You’re too little,’ says I, kneeling down in front of him. Those defiant blue eyes staring back at me. ‘Wor-wor.’ He says. ‘I’m gonna be wor-wor.’” Marcus shook his head.

“I finally had to pick him up and carry him out of the circle to let the others get back to work.”

“What did he do?” I mumbled around my food.

Marcus laughed. “Well, I had one unhappy little man on my hands. I sat him next to me on a bench and started talking about the fighting, about the mistakes that they were making, what they did right, what they could have done better. He sat there by me, enthralled, till a thea came looking for him.” Marcus looked at me, his eye twinkling. “Hisself took to escaping from the theas every chance he got to come and watch. Drove’em mad.” He chuckled as he poured more wine. “When he finally got a sword in his hands, it was as if he had listened and learned from everything he had heard me say. Have no fear for the Warlord’s safety, Warprize. He will be well.”

As I ate, Marcus kept me diverted with tales of the little boy. But as time passed, and the shadows lengthened, my worries grew. I started to pace in the confines of the tent. Marcus stayed near me, pretending to clean and straighten the area, walking amidst over turned stumps, picking up scattered plates. He even offered to send for Gils so that I could give him a lesson, but I waved him off.

Finally, there was a noise outside. Epor went out, and there was a muted discussion. Finally, Epor lifted the flap. “A messenger has arrived, who speaks only Xyian. I told them to bring him here, since Joden is making rounds.”

Marcus nodded. “That is well. I’m thinking the Warprize can’t wait a moment longer.” Epor dropped the flap, and Marcus chivied me to my usual seat and helped me arrange my cloak. “I’m thinking some wine would not go amiss. Put some color in your cheeks.” Marcus swiftly moved to gather up a jug and cup, and was serving me as the messenger walked in, cloaked and hooded. Epor followed, taking his position opposite Isdra.

The messenger threw back his hood. I swallowed, suddenly nervous, to find my half-brother standing before me.

Xymund looked terrible. His eyes were sunken into his head, and his face was haggard and gray. This was not the older half-brother I’d grown up with, or the proud young man I’d seen crowned king. It seemed a stranger stared at me, and for a moment I sat stock-still before I recovered my wits.

“Please sit, brother. You look exhausted.” I spoke in Xyian, hoping to put Xymund at his ease. I was determined that this end without bloodshed or harm to anyone. Marcus had taken up his station behind me. I felt comforted by his presence.

Xymund barely took note of him. “You look well, Lara. Slavery agrees with you.” His voice was thick and harsh, as if he had been drinking.

I flushed, but did not drop my eyes. “I am not a slave. I am mate and consort to Keir, Warlord. Your Overlord.” I sat taller and put my shoulders back, realizing that this man would never again have authority over me. “My position is one of honor, for I am the Warprize.”

He sneered. “Another word for whore.”

Marcus stiffened next to me.

I looked at the man before me, taking in his exhaustion. Yet, in his eyes I could see a deep hatred of myself and of Keir. My Warlord, who even now was trying to rescue my beloved Anna and Othur and maintain the peace that Xymund was throwing away by his actions. It angered me that Xymund had manipulated us. My loyalties may have been divided before, but they were suddenly clear. I frowned at him, feeling no sympathy for a plight he’d brought upon himself. “I am willing to listen, my brother. But I will not tolerate insults.”

He snarled. “Your Warlord is at the castle. He has invaded the place with his men, and they are hunting for me. Warren has turned against me. They are making wild claims that I tried to have you killed.”

I took a breath. “Heath…”

Xymund glared at me. “Heath is a liar.”

I just looked at him. “You have known Heath and his parents since we were children. He does not lie.”

Xymund’s eyes were wild. His hands clenched and unclenched, forming tight fists. He seemed lost somehow, as if looking into a world I could not see. “You were always the favorite.” He looked up, as if to curse the gods. “I thought you were my loyal little sister, who would do her duty and suffer the consequences.” He took a step closer. “I go to clean out your room as a dutiful and loving brother should. And what do I find in the toe of your boot?” His hand moved. Marcus tensed behind me. But Xymund simply threw something small toward the dais, where it landed on the first step, by my feet.

Marcus went forward, knelt down and handed it to me.

It was Simus’s broach. The black pouncing cat gleamed in the light. It was warm to the touch and my fingers folded around it.

Xymund continued. “You traitor. You wanted the throne for yourself, and betrayed me to my enemies.” He almost spat the words at me.

My heart raced in my breast, but I fought to stay calm. “Xymund, I did not betray you. I slipped this off a wounded man because I was afraid that you would kill him outright rather then let him be exchanged.”

Xymund was red, a vein in his neck throbbing. “Father adored you. Even when you refused to be an obedient Daughter of Xy. I knew I could surpass you, outshine you as the heir, as a warrior, but you became a healer, and Father was so proud.”

“He was proud of you as well,” I said quietly.

Xymund continued on, spitting in his fury. “Damn them all, they all watched me, waiting for me to fail. Whispering behind my back, that I was a coward, that I panicked. Always my mother’s son, never my father’s heir.” His voice grew shrill. “So I sent Arneath and his men to kill you and any with you. Arneath swore he’d give his life for me, got that fool boy Degnan and hired scum.” Xymund paused, breathing heavily.

“And so they died.” I was bitter and so sick at heart with disappointment. I’d have wept at the waste, but my anger was stronger. “And in the marketplace? Did you hire them as well?”

“Market?” Xymund paused, “I wanted you dead in their camp, dead in breech of this so called peace. Arneath failed me. I will do what he could not.” With one swift move he pulled his sword and advanced on me.

I froze.

Marcus, still at my feet, did not. He sprang forward, pulling two daggers as if from thin air. He took Xymund’s charge, catching his blade in the daggers, and stopping him cold.

Xymund swore. Marcus smiled up at him. For a brief moment, they stood there, Xymund towering over the thin and wiry older man. The tableau broke as they pulled away from each other. Xymund tried to move back, stumbling over the stumps and tables, and Marcus was quick to press his advantage. Holding his sword held out before him, Xymund drew a dagger with the other hand, and glared at Marcus with a wild look.

Epor and Isdra leaped forward, weapons out. They circled the combatants to reach my side, followed by the guards from outside, who paused in the entrance, drawn by the noise.

“Xymund, put down your weapons.” I moved forward, angry that he would attack Marcus.

Marcus swore and moved between Xymund and myself. “Lara, you idiot, get back.”

I stopped where I was, but Epor had other ideas. He pushed me back as he and Isdra interposed between me and the threat.

Marcus held his hands to his sides and gestured for Xymund to come at him.

“A cripple?” Xymund laughed. He lunged in, swinging his sword in a fierce arc. Marcus dodged in, blocked the sword and parried the dagger. Xymund broke away. Marcus danced back. Xymund came in again, thrusting his sword at Marcus’s body. But Marcus had already moved, and seeing that Xymund’ s reach was extended, leaned in and cut him on his cheek.

Xymund jerked back, shocked. Marcus moved to press his advantage, driving him back, away from me.

“Marcus, be careful,” I called out, afraid for him. I would have moved toward them, but Epor and Isdra prevented me. “Xymund, in the name of the Goddess, please—”

“I’ll kill you, bitch.” Xymund howled, like a dog gone mad.

Marcus laughed and smirked at the sweaty and bleeding Xymund. He stopped pressing him and backed away. Marcus struck his chest with his fist, clearly defying Xymund, daring him to attack. What was he thinking? Xymund was bigger and stronger. Why didn’t Epor help him?

Xymund glared at Marcus, panting and dripping blood. “I will kill your servant, and kill you where you stand, you miserable whore.”

Marcus’s face went flat, the one eye narrowing. He’d recognized the word ‘whore’. The atmosphere in the tent changed. Marcus was no longer playing, his stance and attitude changing subtly. Xymund seemed to feel it as well. He tightened his grip on his weapons and crouched lower. Suddenly I understood that it was Xymund in deadly danger, not Marcus.

From outside came the sounds of horses, lots of them galloping to a halt outside the tent. Some of the guards by the door stepped out to confront the newcomers.

Still, I pleaded, “Xymund, stop this. Whatever you feel about me, remember the peace. Your oath demands…”

Xymund snarled and attacked Marcus viciously. His face was distorted, eyes bulging and mouth twisted. He rushed in, sword slashing at Marcus’s face. Marcus parried with a kind of contempt, catching the blades with his daggers, he moved in close and spat in Xymund’s face.

Screaming in rage, Xymund reared back and instinctively lifted a forearm to clean his eyes. Marcus saw his chance and took it, striking the sword from Xymund’s hand. One dagger dug into Xymund’s neck, the tip of the other rested just above his groin.

Xymund froze.

Marcus chuckled. “Warprize, tell this fool to kneel.”

Xymund’s eyes swung wildly about the room as I repeated the words. “I will not kneel to a servant and a whore.” His eyes landed on mine. “I am your king, enthroned and consecrated. You cannot call for my death.”

The entire outside wall of the tent fell, revealing Keir, Simus, and his men. Lord Warren was there as well, along with some of the lords. They were all standing and staring at Xymund with hate in their eyes. Keir’s voice came, cold and sharp. “I can.”

Marcus’s grin got sharper and the blade of the dagger moved to press a bit deeper into Xymund’s neck. Xymund slowly lowered himself to his knees. Marcus allowed the lower dagger to trail up Xymund’s jerkin till the point rested at his heart.

“Marcus,” Keir growled. “Don’t kill him.”

Marcus snorted. “Give me a good reason, Warlord. This pig is not worthy to die on your blade and, with all due respect, the warprize couldn’t kill for her nooning if she were starving and there were fowl aplenty.” Not for one minute did Marcus relax the blades pressed against Xymund’s throat and chest.

“Marcus.” My voice cracked. “Marcus, his own people must try him, must find him guilty, must know what he has done… Marcus, they must know—otherwise everything Keir wants to achieve will be lost. Please…”

Marcus sneered and leaned in on Xymund. “The only thing that saves you now are the words of the Warprize… she who is honored before all.” Xymund may not have understood the words, but he certainly got their meaning. His eyes blazed hot as Marcus stepped back. Epor and Isdra moved forward, ready to secure the prisoner.

As the tent filled, I turned and smiled at Keir. The stiffness in his back eased, as his eyes passed over me, assuring himself that I was safe. I moved forward, intent only on reaching him.

Unknowingly, I moved closer to Xymund, and into Marcus’s blind spot.

With a howl, Xymund jumped to his feet, swept up his dagger and lunged at me. He grabbed my shoulder and I saw his rage, felt his breath hot on my face as his dagger moved toward my stomach.

Keir was there. In one move he threw me backwards to the floor, and stepped between us, securing Xymund’s wrist in one hand. The blade was poised between them.

Xymund fought, struggling against the grip, bringing his other hand up. His face was wild and frightening, the blood oozing from his cheek, splattering Keir’s chest as he struggled Keir stood firm. “End this. Now.”

Xymund raged, trying with all his might to free his wrist. “No, no! Death to the whore and traitor.”

Keir said nothing, merely hooded his eyes. He slowly forced the point of the dagger down and toward Xymund’s stomach. Keir’s voice grated as he spoke. “For the last time, end this now and save your life.”

Xymund shrieked and threw himself at Keir.

Keir shoved the point of the dagger into his stomach.

Xymund’s eyes bulged. He still held the hilt. Keir released him and stepped back, turning to sweep me up and away. Epor, Isdra, and Marcus moved toward Xymund. Over their shoulders, I saw Xymund start to buckle, then my view was blocked by Keir as he embraced me.

I resisted, trying to see around him. “Let me go, let me see…” Keir was running his hands over me, checking for injury and restraining me at the same time. “Keir, let me try to…”

“No.” Keir caught me up again, pressing my head to his chest. He rocked me slightly.

I heard a cough come from behind Keir. Simus spoke quietly, “He is dead. What are your instructions, Warlord?”

Keir said nothing. He pulled back and looked at me. I looked into his eyes and tried to smile. He smiled back, but with an overcast of sadness in his eyes. “Remove the body. We will take it to the city and inform the nobles and the people of what has happened.” He rubbed his thumb over my lips. “Lara, I…” He paused, as if in pain. “Remember that you have my heart.”

“Lara!” A shriek filled the air as Anna descended on us, weeping and crying. She hugged me to her bosom. Keir stood and backed away, letting Anna and Othur close. We hugged and embraced in joyful reunion.

Lord Warren approached Keir. “Warlord, who shall now rule in Xymund’s stead?”

There was sudden hush, as the Xyians all looked to Keir.

Keir inclined his head. “That’s an issue that must be dis-cussed. We’ll take up the body and return to the castle. The future of this land, and the Daughter of Xy must be resolved quickly to preserve our peace.”

My heart stopped.

I could feel the tension of the room decrease. Warren smiled, and the nobles seemed to relax, moving toward their horses. Anna was fussing, and Othur and Marcus seemed to be sizing each other up. The fears of my people had eased.

Only my fears had intensified.