Warprize

Chapter 3

As I walked back to the castle that night along the garden path, I felt strangely invigorated. The tiredness that I had felt before had dissipated as quickly as it had come. Before leaving the tents, I’d finished the mug of kavage, once I’d laced it with milk and honey. A strange herb. I wondered if it held healing properties.

Since there seemed little chance that I would sleep any time soon, I went to the castle stillroom off the kitchen area. I waved to Anna as I entered the kitchen, snagged a bowl of stew and some bread, and retreated into the dim recess to eat. I was starving, and couldn’t remember if I’d eaten at midday or not.

Perched on my stool, I ate quickly. The room with its rows of shelves and worktables was cool and quiet. The candle lamp only lit the small area around me. I’d light the rest when I started working. The scent of the spicy stew filled my senses, canceling out the scent of medicines and mixtures. As I wolfed down the food, I looked about, making plans. I’d concentrate on the medicinal recipes. If the fighting started back up, I would need all that I had on hand, and more. The lotions and perfumes could wait awhile.

Hours later the braziers were hot and the mixtures brewing. Water and willow bark were in one kettle boiling down to make fever’s foe. Another pot held the ingredients for the scar mixture, once I’d filched goats’ milk from the larder. As I stirred some of the orchid root mixture, I heard horns blowing. I stopped, listening, but they did not repeat. The Warlord must be leaving out the main gates. If that was the case, they’d been at it a long time. I breathed a silent prayer to the Goddess that things had gone well. Xymund’s pride had caused him to do foolish things in the past. But Lord Marshall Warren was a good man. I hoped he would see the wisdom to peace.

The bubbling pots and the homey smells relaxed me in a way that nothing else could. While I enjoy caring for people, this was a small pleasure of my trade, brewing elixirs that would ease pain and restore health. The closest I’d ever come to magic, that was certain. It gave me a true sense of being needed and a real feeling of accomplishment.

I was yawning madly by the time the orchid root was ready to be poured into the small bottles that I had prepared. Moving carefully, I filled each to the neck and stoppered them loosely. The corks could be tightened once the bottles were fully cooled. The last thing was the fever’s foe. The paste had to be spooned into small jars and sealed with wax. I put the wax to melt, and started to work. It seemed to take forever, but eventually I was perched on my stool, pouring the sealing wax over the last of the jars.

A knock came at the door, and Othur entered. He looked tired as well, with bags under his eyes. I smiled at him as I set down the wax pot. He stood there, rubbed his face with both hands and sighed.

“Long night?” I blew out the flame and gathered up a few of the jars to move to the storage shelves behind me.

Othur nodded. “The King talked alone with the Warlord for hours and has been closeted with the Council ever since. They’ve been at it, hammer and tongs, for some time. They’ve sent for you.”

I put down the last jar, and turned. “Me?” I blinked at him owlishly, surprised. “Why?”

There was a bitterness in his eyes as he shrugged. “I don’t know. But he wants to see you now.” My father had allowed Othur in all the councils and his opinion had been asked for and taken seriously. Xymund had removed the privilege when he’d taken the throne. Yet another reason for Anna to dislike him so.

I quickly finished cleaning the work area, and blew out the rest of the lamps and candles. Othur stood to one side and held the door. I slipped past him, smoothing down the front of my jerkin as I went. There were wax droplets and other stains, not to mention the smell, but the council was just going to have to settle for my work clothes if they wanted a status report about the prisoners at this hour. My jaw cracked in a yawn as I followed Othur through the back halls.

We arrived at the doors only to hear a heated argument going on inside. Othur and I exchanged looks, but made no comment. It did seem to me that Xymund spent more time arguing with his advisors instead of listening.

The guard nodded and opened the door to let me in. The conversation stopped abruptly as the door swung open.

Once again I found myself kneeling before my brother. But when I was granted permission to rise, Xymund was standing looking out the window. He was in formal dress, standing stiff and straight in front of the huge window. His hands were clenched behind his back. I glanced around. It seemed that the entire council was crowded about the room. Lord Marshall Warren was there, along with Archbishop Drizen. Drizen was seated by the hearth and dressed in formal vestments, with Deacon Browdus beside him. Everyone looked tired and worn. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught side glances being exchanged. There was a tension, as if everyone was avoiding looking at me. Something was very, very wrong.

“Xylara, the Warlord has named his terms for peace.” Xy-mund did not turn. He made his announcement as he stood looking out the window. His hands tightened around one another. I looked over at General Warren, who grimaced, and looked down at the floor.

“That is good to hear, Your Majesty.” I swallowed, sensing a problem. “Are they acceptable?”

Xymund still did not turn. “I and my nobles are to swear fealty to him. The kingdom will remain under my control and the taxes and tithes that are to be paid are reasonable. All prisoners and wounded, if there are any, will be exchanged.” There was a bitterness in his tone. Maybe because they had more of our men then we had of theirs. Xymund continued. “But he has claimed tribute.” My brother’s gaze remained fixed on the horizon.

My fears for a peace grew. If the Warlord claimed something of Xymund’s, his pride would forbid acceptance of the terms.

“What does he claim?” I took a step toward Xymund. Still, he did not turn. I looked around, but no one would meet my eyes.

At last, General Warren drew a breath. “You,” he cleared his throat. “He claims you as tribute.”

“Me?” My voice squeaked and sounded like it came from a distance.

Xymund did not turn. “As a slave.”

I stared at that broad back, certain that I had not heard that right. “Me? But…”

Warren nodded. He glanced at Xymund’s stiff back, but when there was no response, continued on, “ The Warlord has sworn for a true peace. No pillaging, no looting.” Warren swallowed. “He offers a true peace in exchange for you, Daughter of Xy.”

The Archbishop raged. “He takes a Daughter of the Blood as a whore. You cannot allow this, Majesty.” He and the deacon both wore similar expressions of horror.

Protocol be damned. I sank into the nearest chair, body and mind numb. “You have misunderstood. He can’t want…”

Xymund’s hands twisted around each other, as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The light caught the gold brocade of his tunic as he moved. Always the regal one, my brother. “He would take you as his possession, a slave to his desires. He would not explain what your ultimate fate would be. He just repeated that he claims you, that you must be promised to him.” He moved his head slightly, but did not turn. “I offered him lands, cattle, or gold. He just shook his head no. ‘For a true peace,’ he said. ‘I claim her.’”

I stared at him, blankly. From childhood, I had been drilled in my responsibility as a Daughter of the House of Xy. That a marriage of alliance would be expected of me. But as the years had passed, and I had gained my mastery, it had seemed a dim prospect. Yet here it was, the obligations of my birth and my house, in a form far different from any expectations. I licked my dry lips and tried to remember to breathe.

My legs managed to get me up out of the chair, and over to stand next to Xymund at the window. Father had chosen this room for its view of the length of the valley. The river, the lake, the farms and cottages. Now I saw what Xymund saw. Campfires. Hundreds of them outside the walls, scattered over the valley. The Warlord’s men. I leaned my head against the cool stonework and looked out in despair.

Xymund shifted slightly and turned. For a brief instant I saw it in his eyes. Deep within, hidden from the men in this room, was his utter and complete glee. “You have already promised him his tribute,” I whispered.

Xymund tilted his head to the side.

Rage filled me in an instant. I wanted to strike out hard and hurt him. Warren could rule better. Othur could rule better.

The rage drained away as quickly as it had surged, leaving me shaken. The glitter of those campfires reminded me of what faced us.

“Xylara.” Warren was standing behind us. “No one can ask this of you.” I turned to face him. He did not look at the King.

“We do not know this man’s intent… there have been no assurances of your safety or…” He paused. “ Or of your status. My men and I will fight—”

“And if you fight, Warren? What is the hope?” I asked.

Warren shook his head. “I cannot tell. We are ill prepared for a siege. Water is not a problem, but food …” His voice trailed off.

“There are the tunnels into the mountains.” A large, older man spoke up. I couldn’t place his name but knew he was one of the craftsmen on the council. “We can bring in supplies that way.”

Warren shook his head. “The tunnels are old and rarely used. They are big enough for men to walk single file, but not for laden horses. We could not bring in enough food or supplies fast enough to feed a whole city.” He took a deep breath. “The Warlord’s men would need to build siege equipment. Winter comes on. There’s a good chance that we could hold out til the weather drives him back to the plains.”

I moved back to the chair and sank into it. There was an odd kind of numbness in my brain. Voices were raised, as they debated again, but I couldn’t make out the words. I stared at Xymund’s back, but he did not turn. He simply looked out over the valley.

I licked my dry lips again. “Warren?” My voice was little more then a whisper. It sounded strange to my ears.

The arguing continued in the background as he knelt by my chair. I looked into his eyes. I saw his fear.

His fear that I would not do this.

“Will it be a true peace?”

Warren nodded, his head close to mine. “Yes. The Warlord has kept his word to those he has taken. It is only where any have betrayed him that he has retaliated. When he is betrayed or defied, he is ruthless.” The old man bent his head.

“I need…” I cleared my dry throat and looked down at my clasped hands. The knuckles were white. What I needed mattered no longer. I looked up and let my voice carry, cutting through the useless debate. “When is this to take place?”

Xymund turned. “Sunset. The ceremony will be at sunset tomorrow.” He gestured toward the window, where dawn could be seen on the horizon. “Today.”

I nodded. It took every bit of strength, but I managed to get to my feet. “The House of Xy has always seen to the needs of its people.” I took a deep breath. “I will be ready at sunset.”

Everyone in the room but the King sank to their knees, removing helms and uncovering heads. I looked steadily at Xy-mund, who stared back at me, sullenly.

I turned and walked toward the door on legs gone numb. Once in the hall, I moved without really seeing anything. Next thing I knew, I was in my room. I stood for a moment, looking at my belongings scattered about, at the fire that burned so cheerfully, at my books, and papers, and…

I fell to my knees and managed to get to the chamber pot before retching up my supper.

I heaved and panted over the pot for what seemed an endless time. The spice of the stew burned my lips. It occurred to me that it would be a long time before I could stomach the taste of Anna’s stew again. Then I realized that would not be a problem. My stomach cramped at the thought.

My eyes closed, I tried to concentrate on my breathing instead of the wretched cramping of my gut. A slave. The heaving began again, although there was nothing left to purge.

Sounds at my door, then hands pulled back my hair, and a cool cloth was on my neck. My breathing started to even out, and a cup of water was pressed to my lips. I took some water in, rinsed and spit. Supporting hands drew me up and away. It was Anna, who clutched me to her ample breast, making soft sounds, and rubbing my back with her hands. I buried my face in her neck and clung like a sick child. She smelled of bread, and grease, and home. Her big warm hands rubbed my back as she cradled me, both of us kneeling on the floor. My sobs eased as she hugged and rocked me. “You cannot do this thing,” she whispered into my ear. “… you cannot.”

Word travels fast.

“I must,” I whispered back. “Xymund has already promised.” I lifted my head and sniffled, wiping my eyes with my hands. Othur was seated on my bed, his eyes red-rimmed, his hands hanging between his legs.

Othur snorted. “He had no right.” He took a deep breath, his lips thinning as he pressed them together.

“Bastard he is, bastard in blood and deed.” Anna hissed. “Fine, then he can answer to the Warlord. We will get you away, hide you ‘til this is done.”

I dropped my head to her shoulder and allowed myself to be comforted for a moment.

“We have friends beyond the mountains, where you could go, Lara.” Othur’s voice was soft.

I lifted my head and looked into his worried eyes. “It wouldn’t just be Xymund that answered to the Warlord, would it? It would be the city.”

Othur dropped his gaze. He said nothing.

I pushed myself away from Anna and sat up. “Would it?”

Othur looked into the fire. “Rumor has it that the Warlord is ruthless when betrayed, or when a promise is not kept.”

Anna spoke up. “Child, you are not responsible for…”

I looked at her, at her tear-streaked face. “What would Father have done?”

Othur sat up at that comment. “If your father were alive he would be horsewhipping your brother through the halls and down into the stables. He’d never have pledged you without consulting you first.”

Anna nodded in agreement, her chins jiggling. She took up a damp cloth and wiped my face. “Child, please. There is no need for this.”

“What is the alternative? I walk away from the city? From these people? From you? And leave you to what fate, Anna?”

I rose to my feet. Othur stood as well, and we both helped Anna get her bulk off the floor. Once she was on her feet, Othur swept me into a hug. “This isn’t over, Lara. We need to talk about this before—”

The door slamming open brought him up short.

It was Xymund.

He stood in the doorway, a small chest under his arm.

Anna covered the chamber pot with the damp cloth, and picked it up. With a nod to Xymund, she left the room. For one brief moment, I held my breath, afraid that the contents of the pot would be flung in his face. But Anna went past him without a word. Othur bowed to Xymund, then followed his wife out. He cast a glance at me as he closed the door that told me that our discussion was not over yet.

Xymund placed the chest on the small table by the door.

“The Warlord’s men brought this. His instructions are that you be bathed, oiled, and anointed with perfume. Your hair is to be down. Wear the garment that has been provided and nothing else. When summoned into the throne room, you will walk to the throne, kneel before the Warlord and extend your wrists for your chains.”

I did not reply. I would not give him the satisfaction.

“I have something else to give you.” He held out a small vial with a dark fluid in it. I took it, and looked at him with a question in my eyes. “It’s monkshood.”

One of the deadliest poisons known. Takes less then a few breaths. My voice barely emerged from my throat. “What am I to do with this?”

“The right thing.” He put his hands behind his back. “I had no choice, Xylara. My generals tell me that we could not withstand him. By doing this I save the kingdom.”

“And your throne.” Suddenly I was very, very tired. I sat in a chair, and looked at the vial. So small. So deadly.

“I am giving you an escape. I will leave the timing of it to your discretion.”

I let the bitterness escape. “My thanks, to be sure.”

He stiffened. “The best time would be after the ceremony, but before he can…” His voice trailed off, and I closed my eyes. “I know that you will do what is best for our people.” Bitterness and something even darker now lay in his tone. I looked at him and found it on the tip of my tongue to ask him why he hated me.

I doubted that I would get an honest answer.

He endured my look for a moment and then turned on his heel and left the room, closing the door behind him.

The brown liquid flowed back and forth as I turned the vial in my hand. I stared at it as I turned it over and over…

All I had ever wanted was to heal. To fix the hurts of others. A school of my own, a place to study and learn and teach, and heal. Now, I would be a…

I swallowed as the bile rose in my throat again. I stood and started to pace in the confines of my small room. I kept going over the scene in Xymund’s study, trying to find another way, an alternative to what he had promised our enemy. Xymund’s words kept running through my head. ‘I and my nobles are to swear fealty to him. The kingdom will remain under my control and the taxes and tithes that are to be paid are reasonable and proper. All prisoners and wounded, if there are any, will be exchanged. But he has claimed tribute.’

‘… claimed tribute…’

‘… claimed tribute… ’ But there was something else, something…

‘All prisoners and wounded, if there are any, will be exchanged’

Dearest Goddess, ‘if there are any’!

I stood suddenly, dropping the vial onto the bed. Xymund had no intention of exchanging prisoners. He would obey the letter of the agreement but not the spirit. I swallowed hard, glancing out the window to the rising sun. It might already be too late.

I was up and moving without another thought. I flew out of the room, reaching the circular back stair, throwing myself down them as fast as my feet could go. I burst through the kitchen door, and bless the Goddess, Othur was still there with Anna. They looked up, staring at me as if I had taken leave of my senses.

I hurried over, talking as fast as my breath would let me.

“Slow down, Lara, slow down.” He frowned. “Xymund wouldn’t. He’s too afraid of that demon to…”

Anna wiped her face, her expression grim. “He would, damn him. A sop to his pride. What can we do?”

“I think I can get them safe to the castle gates, but be-yond?” I trembled at the thought of a slaughter, of its effect on the peace.

Othur rubbed his chin. “Let me worry about that. Go to the tents, Lara. Maybe we’re wrong, but go anyway.”

I nodded, ran to the still room, and grabbed up my satchel. Without further thought I exploded out of the kitchen and down the garden path, running for all I was worth, praying that I was wrong.

I stopped at the briar patch, just out of sight of the first sentry post, and tried to catch my breath. No point in giving myself away. I dropped the satchel, bent over, hands on knees, and concentrated on breathing.

Once I had it under control, I picked up the bag and started walking down the path at my normal pace. I had to be in time, had to be…

The first sentry appeared unconcerned, giving me a genial wave as I passed by. I returned it, and continued on. One slow step at a time. The next sentry came into view. I waved and kept my pace normal.

The guard was a familiar one, but I could not place the name. He nodded to me. “You’re early this morn. ” I nodded and smiled, not trusting my voice. He lifted the flap. I took a breath and stepped inside. Everything was as it had been. I let out my breath slowly and swayed with the relief that coursed over me. Most of the prisoners were still asleep and not yet stirring. Someone was about, though, for I could smell kavage, and some of the braziers were alight. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe.

I looked over to where Simus and Joden were, and headed toward them. The shadows clung in that area of the tent, where the light of the fires did not reach.

Joden looked up first and seemed startled to see me. He rose from his knees and held out a hand, as if to ward me off. I moved past him and knelt by Simus, who exclaimed sharply as I reached over to pull back the blankets. I looked over, startled, then followed his gaze to the tent wall. There, where the darkness was deepest, I discovered something important.

There was a man hidden in the shadows.

I froze. Joden had moved behind me, blocking the guards view. Simus was struggling to sit up, and I assisted him almost unconsciously, my eyes never leaving the blue eyes that gleamed from the shadows above us.

Kier.

Joden was speaking softly and it took me a minute to remember his language. “… please. Don’t betray him, Lara. I beg you.”

“I won’t.” I answered, keeping my own voice low. I glared into those blue eyes, so bright in the darkness. “Is this some kind of foolhardy rescue plan?”

White teeth gleamed in the shadows.

I tore my gaze away and concentrated on Simus’s leg. My hands trembled as I opened the bandage to inspect the wound. First Xymund threatens the peace and then this fool. My mouth tightened as a wave of anger passed over me. Was I the only one who cared?

Simus lay back down. “Something has happened.” He looked back and forth between me and the silent man in the shadows.

“There is to be peace, and a prisoner exchange.” I worked quickly, trying to see the wound in what light I had.

Simus stared at me. “Peace?” He shot a glance at Kier. “Under what terms?”

I didn’t look at him. “Fealty, taxes, land. A prisoner exchange. Tribute.” The shakiness in my voice surprised me.

Joden’s voice came over my shoulder. “Tribute?”

I didn’t know the word in their tongue, so I used my own. “A slave.” I was digging through my satchel, hiding my face. “Me. I am to be given to him at sunset.”

“Slave,” Joden said, puzzled. “I do not know this word.”

Kier’s soft voice floated over us, barely a whisper. “You could flee.”

“Yes,” I nodded. “There are people who would hide me and help me get away.” I faltered in my digging. “But if the Warlord is as ruthless as they say, what will he do to my people if I don’t go through with the ceremony?” I closed my eyes, actually picturing it for the first time. “If the Warlord is true to his word and it is a true peace, then any sacrifice would be worth it to save my people.” I jerked my head up and shot a glance at Simus. “Can I trust his word?”

Simus nodded. “Yes. If he has set the terms, he will not be the one to violate them.”

I looked down into the satchel and watched the jar in my shaking hands. “My father,” My voice trembled but I continued. “Father always said that the price of privilege is responsibility.” Even as I said it, I knew it to be true. Xymund may not be honorable. I could not control him. But I could act with honor. I took another deep breath and turned back to my work. As I worked, I cast a look up at Kier, hidden there in the shadows. “Xymund gave me a vial of poison.”

Kier’s face tightened. Joden sputtered behind me. Simus levered himself up onto his elbows.

“The drug would give you release.” Kier’s voice was dark and heavy as it floated through the dark. “ Your people would suffer the consequences. The Warlord would level this city, and destroy the people if you were to die.”

I looked over at him in the darkness of the tent. His eyes glittered at me from the shadows. A hysterical giggle bubbled up inside my throat. “You have listened to too many ballads. He probably wants a healer to ease the ache of sore muscles or lance his boils. I…”

Kier’s head snapped up, and he looked at the tent entrance. I stopped, listened, and heard guards, many guards approaching outside.

Dearest Goddess. I had been right.

My mouth dried in an instant. Quickly, I pulled the blankets up and over Simus. I staggered up, pulling my satchel with me. Kier was silent, wrapped in a cloak. He looked over at me, his face intent. “What is this? The exchange is to take place at sunset.”

I didn’t answer. I fumbled in my satchel and pressed my small knife into Joden’s hand. “Here. Hold this for me.” I turned and strode toward the entrance. I got there just as the captain of the guard stepped through. From his look, he was surprised to see me. As he squinted at me, he opened his mouth to say something. I didn’t give him the chance.

“Arneath. I am glad that they sent you to take charge of the exchange. I don’t quite have them ready to go yet.”

Arneath closed his mouth and shot me a look. “My men can assist them to prepare. Why don’t you wait outside?”

Oh no. He was not getting me away from them. I prudently stayed out of arms’ reach.

“Tis a joy for me to aid them, since it means the return of our men so much quicker.” I smiled and shrugged. “They are eager to leave. It will not take long.” I turned and called out in their tongue. “The trade of prisoners is to happen now. Everyone get ready.”

Eager faces turned my way, and the men started to stir themselves. I felt Arneath moving behind me, and stepped away, toward where Joden stood. While I was fairly sure that the guards had no understanding of the language, I took no chance. “No one walks alone. Everyone must aid their fellows.”

I started to make my way back to Joden, ignoring Arneath’s protest from behind me. “Some of you take up the cots of those who cannot walk.”

I reached Joden.

“Simus must go on a litter. Kier, you and Prest can carry him.”

Joden started to reach for Simus, but I got in the way. “No, Joden. Stay next to me.” He looked at me, puzzled. I leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “You may need a hostage to get through this.” His eyes widened, then hardened.

As the men gathered themselves, I waited for Arneath to order me taken from the tent. His men had the weapons. But I was gambling that his instructions were to be quiet and discrete. Hard to do that in front of the woman who was being given into slavery before the entire Court in a few hours.

We started out, surrounded by the guards. I walked beside Joden, sticking close. Arneath said nothing, but watched me carefully. If he were going to do anything, it would be in the depths of the garden, out of sight of the castle, where bodies could be buried. The path was narrow, and the men were strung out. If Arneath was to act, it would have to be there. The briar loomed before us. I breathed in the scent of the roses, and prayed to the Goddess. These men moved so slowly, even helping one another. We reached the briar and crawled passed. I bit my lip, desperate to look behind, and yet not quite daring to do so. Finally, I couldn’t help it. I looked back.

The last prisoner staggered past the briar, followed by the last of Arneath’s men. I breathed a little easier. Kier was at the foot of Simus’ litter. He blended into the group well, as if he had always been there. The only difference was the glances he darted in my direction from time to time.

When we reached the castle gates one of the gate guards approached me. “Xylara, the King has instructed that you are not to leave the castle grounds.”

Ah, Xymund. Brave enough to order the deaths of unarmed men, but afraid to face the Warlord without his little gift under his control.

Ameath looked like he had lost the battle but won the war. There were alleys, and dark places in the city. He could still carry out his mission.

There wasn’t much more I could do. I nodded to Arneath, as the gates began to open and turned to the group of men.

Joden squeezed my shoulder and moved to take the burden off Kier. Kier stepped back, never letting his eyes leave my face. I avoided his gaze, stepped up to the litter and put my hand on Simus’s shoulder. He covered it with his own. “My thanks. Be well, little healer.” I nodded, and stepped back.

The gates swung open. Arneath stepped forward to lead the way.

Only to be blocked by a large group of townspeople.

Remn, the bookseller, stepped forward, along with the Head Priest from the Temple of the Goddess. “ We have come to offer our help to these men. As we would hope that their people help our men at this time.”

I smiled and watched as the two groups merged into one and headed down the street. Anna and Othur had gotten the word out. Arneath looked like he had swallowed something bitter. He would be hard pressed to carry out his orders now.

I stood as the gates swung silently closed. In the few moments before they came together, I thought I saw a flash of blue eyes as Kier looked back at me.

It was wishful thinking. Nothing more.

I spent the rest of the day in the still room with Anna. We reviewed the supplies, and I went over the various recipes, updating the records and recording my notes. Eln would send apprentices, and eventually a master would take my place. It felt as if I was in a dream, with a kind of blanket around my head, muffling my thoughts. I concentrated on the work at hand and thought of nothing else. At some point, Anna placed food before me, but I couldn’t eat it. My thoughts were muddled, but my stomach was perfectly aware and it rolled at the suggestion of food. At the last, I gathered up my precious books and journals, and tied them together with twine. Eln would see that they went to the right people and that the knowledge was not lost. I looked at the little bundle sitting in the center of the cleaned and cleared table. It looked somehow forlorn and lost. Of all my things, these were the hardest to let go.

Anna’s hand grasped my shoulders and moved me to the kitchen, pressing me down onto the bench. A large mug of tea was placed before me, and I watched as she added honey to it. She placed the mug in front of me carefully. “Drink. I will get some bread and cold meat.”

“No, Anna. I’m not hungry.” My stomach was barely willing to take the tea.

The kitchen was quiet and there were only the two of us seated there. Anna sipped her tea. I stared at mine. We sat in uncomfortable silence. In another few hours.

“Lara. Child.” I lifted my head to see Anna staring deep into her cup and turning the brightest shade of red I had ever seen. Her rough voice dropped to a whisper. “If your blessed mother were here, she would want you to know what to expect.”

“Anna.” I reached for her reddened hand on the dry boards of the table, trying not to laugh. “Anna, I may not know the specifics, but I know the general way that things go. It will be all right.”

Anna looked up, tears streaming down her face. “As you say, child.”

Neither of us believed it.

I looked away, then rose. “I best go and get ready.”

Anna wiped her face with her apron. “I’ll have hot water sent up to your room. I’ll be up shortly to help you.”

“Anna, you don’t have to—”

A fierce look from her cut off my words. “I’ll be up. Go on.” She looked away as fresh tears welled up in her eyes.

I made my way to my room, and stood at its center looking around at my personal items. I sorted out my clothing for the maids, Anna would see to it that they were given to the right people. I had little jewelry, but a few rings and a necklace that had been my mother’s. No fine jewels here, just a simple gold locket on a chain. That was for Anna. The few remaining coins, I’d donate to the Goddess. I had some perfumes and soaps that I’d made for myself; I set those aside for Kalisa the cheesemaker. She’d cackle, and use them lavishly. The ones I liked the best were scented with vanilla oil. They were very expensive and I’d used them sparingly, saving them for a special occasion or an indulgence. As I looked at them, I wished I’d used them every day.

There were sounds outside, and I quickly dried my eyes as the servants started to haul in the tub and water, along with towels. Ordinarily, bathing in my room by the fire was a treat, one not to be indulged in too often, what with the servants having to haul hot water up the stairs. I bit my lip and got myself under control as they sloshed bucket after bucket of hot water into the tub. Once they were gone, I stripped, throwing my clothes in the corner. I sank into the tub and started washing, using my vanilla soap unsparingly.

Anna showed up in time to help me rinse my hair. Wrapped in towels, I sat by the fire, and rubbed the water from my hair. Anna sat on a stool next to me, looking through the small chest that had been brought to the castle by the Warlord’s men. There was a small vial in the box, along with a garment of some kind. Anna uncorked it and we both jerked our heads back in dismay as the overwhelming scent of flowers filled the air. We could not get the cork back in fast enough. We looked at each other and burst out laughing like sick fools.

Next, Anna held up the garment and we both just looked at each other.

“Isn’t there anything else in there?” I asked as I looked in the chest.

“No.” Anna frowned. “You are going to catch your death.”

Anna picked up the combs and gestured for me to sit with my back to her. She started to work the tangles out of my hair. I reached for one of my bottles and handed it to her. She looked at me. “The instructions said…”

“I’d rather smell of vanilla.”

She sighed, but opened the bottle and began to rub the expensive oil into my hair. I started with the scented creams on my body. The vanilla’s gentle scent surrounded us, but wasn’t overpowering. Once I was done, I sat quietly, staring at the fire as Anna brushed my hair dry.

When she was done, as a further small act of defiance, I wound my hair up on top of my head as I was wont to wear it and placed more of the scented oil on my neck. Anna clucked like a hen, but I felt better for it.

Until I put on the garment. It was little more than a sleeveless shift of fine, shiny white cloth. It fell to below my knees, and clung in ways that brought a blush to my cheeks. Thankfully, the neckline was high, showing only my collarbone, since it was cut straight across. Anna stepped back, and we both looked at each other. It was fairly clear that the Warlord wanted to be able to inspect the merchandise before claiming it.

With a deep breath, I moved closer to the fire, and looked around the room. Anna picked up my slippers, but I shook my head. “I am to wear only what was in the chest.”

Anna looked at me, and let the slippers fall back to the floor. I moved about, telling her what I wanted done with my possessions. I pressed my mother’s necklace into her hand, and hugged her hard as her silent sobs racked her body. “You’ll see to this?”

She managed to nod, unable to speak.

The horns announced the arrival of the Warlord’s party. Our heads jerked up together and we both stared out the window. Sunset had arrived. I looked over at Anna. She stood there, frozen, her misery reflected in her face.

I took one last look around my room, at my notes, my books. Xymund had said that I was forbidden to take anything with me. Slaves do not own property. They are themselves owned.

I stood in the center, closed my eyes, and took another deep breath. It did no good. My heart started racing, pounding out of my chest. I could not do this. I could not submit to this. I opened my eyes, and saw the vial where it sat on the mantel. One quick swallow…

Anna had already moved to the door. After she opened it, she knelt down slowly, wincing as her knees pressed against the stone. Gathering my wits, I walked to the door and paused to gently place my hand on her head. She reached up, took my hand and pressed it to her lips. She looked up, eyes brimming. “ Thank you, Daughter of Xy.”

I nodded and managed a smile before I stepped into the hall. And brought myself up short.

The corridor was lined with people. They stood on either side, pressed into corners and against the walls. I stood for a minute, looking. The nearest ones went down on their knees. I heard their quiet “Thank you, Daughter of Xy.” I took a few steps forward, and more sank down.

As I walked down the halls toward the ceremony they each knelt and murmured “Thank you, Daughter of Xy.” Through the main halls, down the stairs. There were servants, townspeople, healers that I knew, some of the wounded I had tended. The people who would not be in the throne room.

The ones I was doing this for.

They were with me, all the way to the door of the an-techamber. Their thanks and their faces would be with me forever.

I could do this.

At the antechamber of the throne room, the guards on both sides opened the door, and I stepped inside.

My eyes clouded, and I stood for a moment, trying to blink them clear. One of the pages approached, knelt and held up a cloth. I took it, wiped my eyes, and returned it to him. Othur was standing there. “ Daughter of Xy,” he said. “The fealty ceremony has begun. The court herald will announce you when it is time.”

I nodded and stepped into his arms, getting a quick hug. He whispered, “Thank you, beloved Daughter of Xy,” in my ear, and quickly left the room.

I moved to the fireplace and felt the warm hearth stone under my feet. The fire crackled cheerfully, but I felt cold. I tried to rub the chill bumps from my arms.

I stiffened when the herald’s voice rang out. “Xylara, Daughter of Xy, you are summoned to the Court.” The guards opened the doors, and I walked forward.

I lost my breath in the next instant.

The white marble of the throne room gleamed in the light of the sunset. The lords of the Court stood against the walls, as did an even larger number of the Warlord’s men. I could not make out the figure on the throne, but I knew that it was the Warlord. He would have been seated there for the ceremony. Xymund was off to the side, standing with the Council members.

The room was silent as I stepped within. The cold marble pulled the warmth from my feet as I lowered my eyes to the floor and advanced toward the throne. The quiet was unnerving. It took forever to cross the floor, one slow step at a time. I kept my eyes on the gleaming marble, and hoped that I was headed in the right direction.

There seemed to be no noise, no coughing, no shuffling in the crowd. Just the sound of my heart beating against my ribs, and the cold that had settled in my chest. After what seemed like years, I could see the step that lead up to the throne. A blue cushion had been placed before the throne, one I had never seen before. I was grateful to whoever had thought of it. I halted before the throne, and slowly sank onto the cushion. On either side, I could see two black boots broadly planted, and legs encased in black fabric. I was careful to keep my eyes down.

I took a deep breath, slowly lifted my hands, palms up, and silently submitted myself to what was to come.

The room seemed to stop breathing. I felt fingers at the base of my neck, gently unraveling my hair. Strong fingers ran through it, releasing and letting it fall free. I shivered, both at the touch and the implication that disobedience would not be tolerated.

Cold metal encircled my wrists. I heard a click as they locked into place. Surprisingly, they were heavy silver bracelets, with no chains. Weren’t there supposed to be chains?

A deep male voice boomed above my head, in my language. “Thus do I claim the warprize.”

It was a voice I knew.

My eyes flew up as the room shook with the response of the Warlord’s men as they stomped their feet and cheered.

The blue-eyed warrior from the marketplace looked down at me, a very self-satisfied smile on his face.

Kier was the Warlord? How had he done this, or even learned of my true identity?

Before I could think, or say a word, he took my hands and stood, drawing me up with him. From behind him, he swept up a black cloak from the throne and twirled it around me, concealing me from all eyes, enclosing me in darkness. The fabric seemed warm and floated around me like night. It smelled of chain mail and oil and some kind of spice.

I was swept up and over his shoulder. The move made me squawk, but I doubted that the noise could be heard above the noise of the crowd. He started to move. Through the soft cloth, I could hear his men chanting his name. I squirmed, but the cloak had me pinned, unable to move my arms or see anything.

Then I squirmed for another reason. His hand was on my buttocks, its warmth burning through the cloak. There was a caress, and then a soft swat… a warning to keep still.

I stopped squirming.

The hand stayed where it was.