“Yes, and Marcus, with Keir’s token.” Lara frowned at that thought, plucking at her skirts. Once again she was dressed in the Xyian manner, with a high-waisted blue gown. She’d slung a belt over her belly, a dagger at her side. It looked odd, but that hardly mattered. Other than her walk into the city, Heath doubted she’d ever be without a weapon again. “Keir wouldn’t take anyone else with him,” Lara continued. “He left them to guard me.”
“The Warlord needs no others for a senel,” Amyu said. “Worry about yourself, Warprize.”
“Prest and Rafe are waiting in the hall,” Heath said. Yveni and Ander were rising, strapping on their weapons. “You’ll have the four of them and myself with you at all times.”
“As if I have a choice in the matter,” Lara said crossly. She titled her head, considering Heath for a moment. Then her smile was back. The impish one. “Anna told me all about it when she brought breakfast.”
“If you are ready, Your Majesty?” Heath extended his arm. “Your Council is waiting.”
Lara laughed, placed her hand on his wrist, and they started off.
“Seems an animal of some kind crushed Anna’s chicken coop last night,” Lara continued. “Smashed it flat. Set off a terrible racket, with chickens squawking and fluttering around.” She gave him a sly look. “Isn’t that just under your hiding place?” she inquired innocently. “The one where you’d star-gaze for hours at a time?”
“A fox, perhaps,” Heath suggested. “I’ll have the Guard set some traps.”
“That seems a lot of damage for a fox,” Lara said. “I told Anna I thought it was a bear.”
Heath gave her a look out of the corner of his eye. Lara laughed.
“Father is already in with the Council,” Heath said softly, changing the subject. “He limped in early with the documents. They have been poring over them for about an hour.”
“Good,” Lara said. She pressed her free hand to her belly. “I want this resolved quickly.”
“You’ll be back in your chambers with Keir at your side before you know it. He said he didn’t think his senel would last any longer than your meeting,” Heath said.
“Maybe.” Lara sighed. “With all the truths being exchanged, he will be longer at it than I will.”
“I don’t know,” Heath paused. “Lord Durst is in there.” He nodded down the corridor.
Lara stopped abruptly, standing in the hall, looking sick. “That’s right. He is on the Council. I’d forgotten. Last time, he wasn’t able to attend—”
“Because Keir thrust his sword through his chest,” Heath finished for her.
“Goddess.” Lara closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Give me strength.”
“We could return to your chambers,” Heath said. “Plead exhaustion on your part.”
“No.” Lara opened her eyes and lifted her chin. “This needs to be done.”
“Have no fear, little bird. Father and I will be at your side, and your guards will be close at hand,” Heath said with a smile.
Strength flooded back into her face. Lara gave him a grateful smile and then started toward the double doors. “Let’s be about this, then. We’ll deal with the terms of the regency, I’ll announce the High Court dinner and the Justice for tomorrow, and then I will nap.”
“As you command,” Heath said as the guards opened the double doors and the Council members rose to greet them.
Othur was seated closest to the head chair, and he was struggling to rise. Lara put her hand on his shoulder. “No need, Lord Othur,” she said as she took her place before her chair. She looked around the table. “My lords, I wish you a good morning.”
Heath took his position just behind his father’s chair. The Council room hadn’t changed in years. Still the same tapestries covering the stone walls, and the long oak table that the maids kept highly polished. Out of habit he checked the nearest corner of the table. Sure enough, he could still make out the faint blue stain in the grooves.
The Crystal Sword of Xy lay on the table, sheathed. It was an old tradition, dating back for as long as anyone could remember. The old blade normally hung on the wall here in the chamber, but it was set on the table during Council meetings, the hilt toward the monarch, the point toward the far wall. It only left these chambers when it was needed for ceremonies in the throne room.
Heath smiled when he saw it. He’d used to beg for his father to draw the sword so he could see it. The blade was thick and clear as glass, and none knew the secret of its forging. Seeing it on the table was almost like seeing an old friend.
Each lord had his designated seat, and Heath scanned their faces as they waited. Some were forbidding, some harsh, some wise, some serene. Lord Durst’s was bland, but Heath wasn’t fooled. The weapons in this room weren’t swords, but they were just as deadly in their own way.
Othur looked at Lara, and for a moment, Heath feared that Lara had forgotten the rituals of the Council, but she placed her hand on the hilt of the Sword of Xy as if she’d done it a thousand times before. “I, Xylara, Daughter of Xy and consecrated Queen, do hereby open this Council,” she said. She sat then, and Heath moved to help her adjust her chair as the lords settled into theirs. “Let us start to work, gentlemen, for I tire easily. I believe you’ve seen the documents?”
ATIRA STOOD NEXT TO KEIR AND FUMED.
“I would tell you the truth, Warlord,” Elois of the Horse began, standing before the gathered warriors with Keir’s token in her hand.
“You hold my token,” Keir acknowledged calmly. He was seated on a stool set before the throne at the same level as the warriors.
“My truth is that I feel betrayed,” Elois said.
Atira kept her hands clenched behind her, her eyes focused on the far wall, her anger simmering in her gut.
Just as well she was angry. It took her mind off her bruises and the taste of that horrible tea that Heath had made her drink. She wondered how he was faring; he’d taken the brunt of the fall. She’d check on him after this senel.
Provided she didn’t challenge Elois first.
The sight of Marcus, cloaked and hooded, standing against the back wall, helped. If he could control his temper, she could keep hers.
The Warlord had called senel for all of the warriors that had remained in Water’s Fall and had claimed the throne room, the only room that would hold them all, for that purpose. And almost all had decided to attend, to hear his truths. The room was overflowing, and unlike a tent, these walls did not roll up to allow light and air.
But if the air was thick, the tension was thicker. Elois continued to speak. “We were promised much, War—” Elois paused, then continued. “Keir of the Cat.”
That caused a stir, but Keir didn’t react.
“We honored our pledge to remain here through the snows, to secure this city for you. We stayed when the rest of the army went with you to the Plains. We stayed, even when the winds brought word that the army had suffered losses from illness, and that Epor and Isdra had died. A bonded pair, in your service, Keir. Still, we stayed.
“We coped with the Xyians. With their language, their odd ways, their insults.” Elois drew a breath. “We adapted to their stone tents and accepted this life as the warriors we are.”
Atira grit her teeth at Elois’s tone.
“Then the Council of Elders summoned Atira to give testimony, and Simus left to return to your side. And still we stayed.”
Elois looked around, as if seeking support. The warriors around her were nodding, as if in agreement. “Again, a messenger came, but this time from the Council. Word that you were no longer Warlord. Yet, we still stayed, in honor of our vows and the Warprize.”
“But now? Now you return, but not as the conquering Warlord. No, instead you follow behind, silent, as the Xyian returns to her land as the triumphant one.” Elois averted her gaze. “I mean no offense to the Warprize, for the Council has proclaimed her so. But spring has come, and I have no Warlord to serve. At least, this is the truth as it se
ems to me. And I would know your intent.”
It was clear that Elois had finished; it was also clear that she intended to keep the Warlord’s token in her hands.
Keir stood, tall and relaxed, his dark hair and black leathers a stark contrast to the white stone of the throne. “I thank you for your truths, Elois of the Horse, and will answer to them.”
He looked out over the room.
“Harsh truths, but truths that must be faced and dealt with.”
“It is true that I no longer am Warlord. The Council held me responsible for the deaths of my warriors. Isdra and Epor were a great loss to all of the Plains.”
Keir spread his hands. “If you wish to hear the winds laugh, tell them your plans.”
There were murmurs of agreement then, and nods of understanding.
“So we must deal with what is, and face these truths. The Council, in its judgment, proclaimed that I could strive to regain my status, and I would have done so this spring. But the Warprize bears a child, and her traditions require that the birth be here, in the Xyian tents, where the Xyians may witness the birth.
“While I am no longer a warlord, still am I Overlord of this land,” Keir said. “But what use is there in repeatedly striking a foe that has already surrendered to me? Instead, the focus is on the Warprize and her babe, not on us. In this matter, I am her second. It is for the Warprize to rule her people and resolve conflicts such as the fate of the child you rescued.” Keir had a small half-smile on his lips. “But while the winds have altered my plans, they have not defeated them.”
Keir lifted his head, and looked around. Atira had a feeling he was deliberately looking each warrior in the eye. “I would release any warrior who no longer wishes to remain in my service. They will depart with my thanks and packs full enough to hold them in good stead on the Plains. But for any willing to forge a new path with me, there will be even bigger rewards if my plans come to pass.”
“And what are those plans?” Elois asked, confusion and hope warring in her face.
“I will regain my status next spring,” Keir said firmly. “Simus will contest for Warlord this season, and Joden will offer himself to the Singers.” He smiled, almost to himself. “Liam of the Deer will aid me as well, and there are others of the Warlords who will listen, and I hope, support me. If the Council of Elders can be reunited, then—”
Elois looked at him in astonishment. “You would be Warking,” she said, her voice the barest whisper.
A thrill ran through Atira’s body at the idea as the other warriors stirred, exchanging looks.
Keir nodded, slowly. “The need is there, Elois. Can you deny that? Too long the warrior-priests have—” Keir cut off his words. “Enough. If that debate starts, we’d be here a day and a night exchanging tokens.”
Even Elois chuckled at the truth of those words. Many of the other warriors smiled as well, and tensions eased.
“My plans must start here in Xy,” Keir said. “For this land must also change. The Warprize and I have discussed the matter, but I need the aid of another to show it to you.” Keir nodded to Marcus, who opened the door of the antechamber.
A short, fat man beamed at him and hustled into the room with two assistants, their hands filled with rolls of parchment. Remn paused, blinked at the crowd of warriors, and then headed for Keir.
“Warlord.” Remn greeted him with a quick bow. “I have brought all that you requested. This one in particular.” He gestured to one of the assistants, who unrolled and displayed a parchment filled with colors and lines.
“What are these?” Elois asked.
“Maps.” Keir leaned forward, watching as Remn pointed at something on the parchment. “Very, very old maps.”
“SO, IF THERE IS NO FURTHER DISCUSSION OF THE terms,” Lara said as she shifted in her chair. “We can conclude this meeting.”
Heath knew full well why she was uncomfortable. It felt like they’d been at this for hours.
“One thing, Your Majesty,” Lord Reddin said, his chair scraping the stone as he rose.
Heath stiffened. Reddin supported Durst.
“Yes?” Lara asked.
“The phrase here regent for the child born of Xylara, Daughter of Xy.” Lord Reddin tapped his finger on the copy before him. “I believe a different wording would be appropriate. Let us change the word child to heir.”
Othur frowned. Heath couldn’t see Lara’s face, but her tone was cautiously neutral. “Why so, my lord?” she asked.
Lord Reddin shrugged elegantly, as if it was of no matter. “I desire specificity, my Queen. It’s my understanding that Firela—” He paused with an expression of apology that looked false to Heath’s eyes. “That those of the Plains routinely bear twins. Should Your Majesty bear more than one child, we would be better served that there be no question as to which child the document refers to.”
Lara said nothing, just reached out to the table to draw the document closer so that she could read it. Heath kept his face neutral, but his thoughts raced furiously as the silence grew.
ATIRA CRANED HER NECK WITH ALL THE OTHER warriors, straining to look at Remn’s maps, and listen to Keir’s words. The idea that the land could be captured on parchment and cloth was a new and frightening one. Colors, lines . . . it was hard to believe it meant something.
Of course, she had thought that about words before Heath had taught her to read. And there stood Remn, the short, fat man, pointing and explaining about mountain passes.
“Liam of the Deer is due to arrive shortly,” Keir announced over everyone’s heads. “Warren and Wilsa have not yet returned from their task of ridding the land of bandits.”
Everyone started to settle, listening to his words.
“I do not ask any warrior to decide here and now”—Keir flashed a smile—“for the decision you make is an important one. But consider well before you decide, for understand one thing.” Keir paused, waiting for everyone’s attention. “I will do this. I will be Warking. The Warprize and I will unite these lands, for the betterment of both our peoples.”
Keir stopped there, but the message was clear. The Plains warriors all looked at one another.
“Consider well your choices,” Keir said. “This senel is closed.”
FOR HIS LIFE, HEATH COULDN’ T SEE A PROBLEM with the request, but he’d trust Lord Reddin about as far as he could throw him.
“I see no problem with the change, Your Majesty,” Lord Pellore said softly. Other heads were nodding.
Pellore was fairly neutral as far as Heath knew. He saw Lara’s head turn toward Othur slightly, saw the faint nod Othur gave her.
“Very well,” Lara said. “Let us have the scribes make the final changes, and be about it.” She shifted in the chair with a sigh as the document was removed and rushed to the waiting scribe at the corner desk. “In the meantime, my lords, I will hold a High Court feast this night, in celebration of our safe arrival in Water’s Fall. I’d ask all of you and your ladies to attend.
“On the morrow, we will hold the Justice, to resolve any pending issues.” She placed her hand on her belly. “After that, I will withdraw from view for a time.”
Most of the lords looked a bit uncomfortable at that statement, but Pellore smiled and nodded. “May I say, Majesty, that we wish you well in the coming days.”
Heath watched as Lara thanked him, even as the other lords offered their best wishes.
All except for Durst.
ATIRA HEAVED A SIGH OF RELIEF ONCE THE WARLORD was back in his chambers, the Warprize safe at his side. Lara was yawning her head off as Keir took her into the sleeping chamber and closed the door behind them.
“That’s done,” Heath said, his own relief in his voice.
Prest and Rafe were starting to settle before the hearth, watching Marcus grind beans for kavage. Ander and Yveni were making themselves comfortable as well, and there were two castle guards outside the door. Atira stretched, trying to loosen the muscles in her back.
Heath drew close
r. “Sore?” he asked softly.
Atira nodded.
Heath sighed. “I could get us some more willowbark tea,” he suggested.
“I’ve a better idea,” Atira said, whispering in his ear. “We need something . . . physical.”
“Mmmm,” Heath sighed back, his blue eyes hot with want. “Something to warm us. Stretch us. Make us feel . . . good.” His eyes were sparkling now. “What exactly did you have in mind?” he asked, his voice warm and husky.
“Come with me,” Atira said.
CHAPTER 16
“SPARRING?” DISAPPOINTED, HEATH FOLLOWED Atira into the sunlit courtyard by the baking ovens. “But I was thinking of . . .”
Atira looked over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow. The sun glinted off her hair as she moved out of the shadowed doorway.
“Well, you know,” Heath shrugged. “Something a bit more . . . relaxing.”
“Sharing our bodies?” Atira said. She headed for the practice circle that lay beyond the courtyard. Heath admired the sway of her hips as she walked off. “That is for later. For now, we need to move and sweat.”
“There is movement in—” Heath stopped as he caught sight of two men, apparently rebuilding the chicken coop. They gave him a respectful nod as he passed.
“You are good in bed,” Atira said easily, tossing her hair back as she walked past the workmen. “But now, we fight, eh? Sex is for later.”
One of the workmen banged his hand with his hammer and cursed. The other stared at Atira, stunned.
Heath figured it was just easier to keep walking.
Atira was at the rack of practice weapons, checking them for weight and length. “Daggers?” she asked. “Or sword and shield?”
“Daggers,” Heath said, unstrapping his sword and placing it on a nearby bench.
He removed his cloak as well. Atira did the same, putting hers near his, but not quite touching. Heath wasn’t sure if he should read something into that or not.