Warcry (9 page)

“Not yet, little one,” Keir said. “Wooden ones first, and only at first teeth.” He tickled her tummy.

Meara chortled, grabbing his fingers.

“Her tattoos have worn off.” Lara smiled.

“The idea,” Anna snorted. “Marking a baby.” She stood. “Eln has the right of it. It’s long past time Meara was in bed, and you need to—”

“No,” Lara said. She tugged Anna back down to the bench. “There’s one matter that needs dealing with now.” She put her hands on her belly. “Here, with those that are my family.”

She shifted on the bench. “Keir, come here next to me.”

Keir handed Meara to Othur and knelt on the floor by Lara’s side.

Othur clucked at the little girl and rubbed her tummy. She settled into his arms, cooing and patting his face with her hand.

Lara took Keir’s hand. “We need to face your fears, my brave Warlord. We need to make plans if I should die in childbirth.”

CHAPTER 13

HEATH’S STOMACH CLENCHED AS HE WATCHED everyone in the room go pale.

Well, everyone except Eln. He was at his table, serenely arranging his supplies.

Atira caught Heath’s eye and stepped closer, her arm brushing his. Heath wasn’t sure if she was offering support or if she needed it herself, but he was grateful.

“Keir,” Lara said firmly. “I am healthy, and Eln has delivered many babies. But you and I have talked about what happened to Kayla.”

Othur raised an eyebrow.

“Keir and Kayla shared a tent as children,” Lara explained. “They were as close as Heath and I. She died in childbirth and—”

“The babe did not come, and the theas gave her mercy. The child was dead when it was cut from her body.” Keir looked off into the distance for a long moment. Finally, he looked at Lara’s hand in his, and continued. “The warrior-priests did nothing.” Keir’s voice was cold and unforgiving. “They refused to aid her in any way—”

“But that is not the case here,” Eln pointed out.

“We can’t ignore that women die in childbirth, and there is always a chance that something will go wrong,” Lara said.

Keir’s face was a mask.

“I am a healer, and I know the risks,” Lara said. “It is the same risk every time you take up your sword.”

“No,” Keir said. “It’s different.”

“We all die,” Lara said gently. “None of us are immortal.” She reached out to stroke his face. “You said to me once that you would seek the snows if I died. So I must ask for your promise, beloved. Your oath that if something happened to me, you will live to care for our child, a child of two worlds.”

Keir bent his head to hers.

Heath felt Atira’s fingers intertwine with his.

Lara continued. “I remember full well Isdra’s pain at Epor’s death. I know the Plains tradition that bonded couples follow each other to the snows.” Lara’s voice was soft. “But we have chosen to try to change your people and mine, and this is one of those changes.” She pressed Keir’s hand to her belly, covering it with her own delicate fingers. “You must live, beloved, to raise our child. This babe will need your guidance and strength.”

Keir lifted his head, his eyes glittering. “I swear it, beloved. I will not seek the snows until our child has reached adulthood.”

Lara looked at each of them. “He will need all of your help, to care for my babe.”

“Of course we will help,” Anna scolded. “Not that there is anything to be concerned about. T’ch, you’ll worry yourself into a state, and that’s not good for you or the babe.”

“And the invalid needs to return to his bed,” Eln said. “His recovery can start in the morning.”

“Perhaps we should delay a day or two,” Othur said softly. Meara was curled in his arms, asleep. “Use that as an excuse to give you time to think.”

Keir was pulling Lara to her feet. “No, best not to let things fester,” Lara said. She grimaced as she stood and put a hand to her back. “Best to deal with things before the birthing.”

“Especially if they are already attacking from the shadows,” Keir said.

“I’ll call for a council tomorrow afternoon,” Lara said, planting a swift kiss on Othur’s head. “I will name Keir as my designated regent for our child, and require their signatures, witnessed and sworn.”

“They will push for a Justice,” Othur warned.

“I will yawn and claim exhaustion.” Lara smiled.

“That will only work so many times,” Eln said.

“Call for a High Court dinner,” Anna said, taking Meara up. The baby girl was limp in her arms. “Distract them with precedence, and I’ll stuff them so full of food they will sleep for a day.”

“You wouldn’t mind?” Lara asked. “I wouldn’t add to your work.”

“No more extra work than stuffing their mouths for a regular dinner,” Anna scoffed quietly.

“If we did that, I could announce the Justice for the day after next,” Lara said. “That would give us time to talk.” She smiled at Othur. “I have a few ideas.”

“And give me time to call the warriors to a senel,” Keir said. “We will discuss the various truths.”

“A brilliant idea, my ladywife.” Othur smiled at Anna. “Eln can announce that I have revived upon seeing Lara and all can rejoice at my miraculous recovery. I’ll get a walking stick and totter down to the baths tomorrow.”

“You’ll go to the baths with a guard, Father. I’ve placed two at your door,” Heath spoke up. “For you as well, Mother. To be with you at all times, even in the kitchen.”

Anna looked at him with wide eyes. “Surely that’s not necessary,” she started.

Heath cut her off. “It is.” He faced Eln. “I didn’t think of you, until just now. But there should be guards for you, as well. Gods forbid we lose you before Lara is brought to her bed. If you will wait here, I will send for more.”

“As you wish,” Eln said.

Lara and Keir nodded grimly. “Lara will have her four bodyguards at all times,” Keir said.

“And you, my Warlord,” Lara said softly.

“What about Heath?” His mother turned on him, glaring even as she cradled the sleeping child. “They have already attacked you once!”

“He’s mine,” Atira said.

ATIRA KNEW THE WORDS WERE A MISTAKE THE moment they left her tongue. Her cheeks grew heated as everyone stared at her. She dropped her gaze to avoid seeing Heath’s face. “He’s my responsibility,” she clarified. “With your permission, Warlord.”

“It makes good sense,” Keir said, with a glint in his eye. He looked as though he was about to say more, but thankfully, Lara yawned just at that moment.

“Enough of this,” Othur said. “Off with you. The rest can wait until tomorrow.”

“I’ll see to the guards,” Heath said, and he slipped out into the hall.

“Is your back bothering you, Lara?” Eln frowned as he looked at her.

Lara grimaced. “It wasn’t until I took a nap on the Xyian mattress in the Queen’s chamber. I’ve grown used to the way of the Plains.” She gave Anna a rueful look. “Don’t tell anyone, but Marcus and Amyu are making up a bed for me of gurtle pads and blankets.”

“Best to sleep on what you’re used to for now,” Anna said. “You can return to a proper bed after the baby is born.”

From Lara’s face, Atira could see that it was not something she looked forward to.

“Send scribes to me in the morning, and I will weakly dictate the regency documents,” Othur said.

“I will.” Lara took Keir’s arm and began to waddle toward the door. Keir raised an eyebrow in Atira’s direction.

With a start, she realized that her charge was in the hall without her protection. Atira flushed, following Keir and Lara through the door.

HIS ROOM WAS JUST AS HE’D LEFT IT.

Well, not exactly. Heath smiled ruefully as he recalled throwing things around in his haste to pack his saddlebags and follow Simus and Atira. The light of the small candle on the mantel showed that the room had been set to rights. Heath suspected that his mother had washed all his clothing and put it in his clothes press.

It was a small room with a simple bed, a chair, and a hearth in addition to the press. Nothing too fancy. His father had offered a larger chamber, but Heath knew full well that might cause hard feelings with his fellow Guardsmen. He’d avoided special privileges and taken some of the worst posts, just to prove himself to the men he’d be working with. It had earned him their respect, and to be honest, he was used to its plainness now. Although after so long on the Plains, the stone walls felt oddly wrong.

His packs and bedroll were on the bed; there was another set against the far wall—Atira’s by the look of them.

Heath knelt at the hearth and used a taper to light the fire already laid there. It would take the chill off the stone.

The tinder caught quickly. Heath went to the window, looking out over the courtyard and the tree. There was a slight breeze, and the leaves rustled in its wake. He could just make out some of the stars appearing in a darkening sky. He started to close the shutters—

“Don’t,” Atira said. She was standing just inside the door. “The walls are already close enough. Let us at least have air.”

Heath shook his head and swung the wooden shutters closed. “We’ve been attacked once already tonight. Let’s not invite another.”

Atira sighed as he placed the bar over the shutters, but she reached for her packs without another word.

“What, no comments on the silliness of Xyian ways, or the strangeness of stone tents?” Heath asked.

Atira ignored him. She started to roll her bedding out in front of the door.

“What are you doing?” Heath snapped. “You can’t sleep there.”

Atira paused, giving him a mild look. “Where else would I sleep?”

“Well.” Heath pointed at the bed. “Here.”

Atira raised her eyebrow. “I would not
string
you along. You placed a price on sharing, remember?”

Only too well. Heath clamped his jaw shut on the words he wanted to say, but she was right. He’d meant what he’d said there under the pines, but right here, right now, he wanted . . .

Gods. She would drive him insane long before their enemies killed him.

“Fine.” Heath started to remove his weapons, moving toward his press. “But at least sleep closer to the fire.”

“Fine,” she snapped. Atira had her back to him, stiff and as disapproving as a back could get. She continued to lay out her gurtle pads and blankets in front of the door.

Heath cursed under his breath as he stripped down, hanging his sword-belt from the bedpost. He opened the lid of the clothes press, looking for the thin linen bedclothes.

“What’s that smell?” Atira asked.

Heath didn’t look up. “Spices. Mother refuses to waste anything. If a spice gets too old to cook with, she makes up small bags and hides them in the clothes. She claims it keeps vermin out of the press.” He pulled out a pair of sleep trous.

“And that thing, it is filled with clothes?” she asked.

“Yes.” Heath closed the lid and started to pull on the trous.

“That’s more clothes than any of the Plains warriors I know,” Atira said.

“You only have what you can carry on a horse,” Heath said.

“True,” Atira said. “Although there are stories of a Singer whose tent is filled with more than ten horses can carry,” she chuckled. “But those are only words the wind brings, and they can’t be trusted.”

Heath pulled back the blankets on the bed.

“That scent,” Atira said, her voice slightly husky. “It’s nice.”

Heath looked over at her.

She had placed her weapons on the floor within easy reach, then followed the Plains tradition of sleeping naked. She stripped down to her bare skin, and was stretching in the firelight, letting her hair down from the braid she wound around her head. She was being careful not to look at him.

He couldn’t have looked away if he’d wanted to. She was lovely, strong and golden in the firelight. His mouth went dry and his body betrayed him as his desire rose. He’d been an idiot to say that he would not lay with her unless they bonded.

Atira ignored him as she slid into her blankets, but there was a smirk on her lips that told him that she’d seen and she knew, and . . . he blew out the candle and went to his own bed before he did something stupid.

Hells, he’d already done something stupid, falling in love with a warrior of the Plains. What had he been thinking? Heath smiled ruefully as he slid into the cold bed. He hadn’t exactly been thinking, now, had he? In fact, quite the opposite.

The fire crackled, warming the room, and Heath pretended to watch the flames. But his gaze kept wandering over to Atira, sleeping on her side, her face toward him, her hair spilling around her head. He just needed to make her see . . . to make her understand that he wanted her oath, and for her heart to be his alone. As his heart was hers.

Finally, he forced himself to look up at the ceiling, laying there waiting for sleep to come.

The rustle of blankets told him that Atira was stirring, which wasn’t like her. She usually dropped off fast and rarely stirred in the night. So he wasn’t really surprised when her voice came out of the darkness. “Do you think she knew what she asked of him?”

“Huh?” It was about all Heath could manage; he didn’t have an idea of what she was talking about.

“The Warprize,” Atira said. “Do you think she understood what she was asking Keir to do? To suffer?”

Heath turned on his side and looked over at her. He could see the glitter of her eyes in the firelight. “Yes,” he said softly. “I think so. But Lara has the right of it. The child will need him.”

“The theas would raise the child and raise it well,” Atira protested. “Your parents would aid them.”

“That’s true,” Heath said. “But Xyians believe that a child should be raised by its parents. We also believe that life is a gift of the Sun God, and it is not our place to decide if it should end. That lies in the hands of the Sun God, and our duty is to live, to bear our burdens and sorrows, for as long as we draw breath.”

“But to force him to remain . . . to not permit him to follow her to the snows.” Atira’s voice was filled with pain. “So hard . . .”

“If he’s willing to die for her,” Heath pointed out, “why shouldn’t he be willing to make the greater sacrifice to live for the child? A child of two worlds. And if that child is to take the throne of Xy, then it must be raised here.” Heath stared up at the dark ceiling. “But nothing is going to happen to Lara.”

“True enough,” Atira agreed. “She has good hips for bearing. She should have no problem.”

Heath snorted a laugh. “Don’t let her hear that without a token.”

“Why not?”

Heath chuckled again. “It’s not exactly a compliment to Xyian ears.”

He shifted under the covers, trying to get comfortable, and almost missed her next words. “Those of the Plains would understand and accept the truth of it. Xyians are fools.”

Heath shifted again, punching up his pillow in an effort to make it lie right. But he paused in his efforts to growl at her. “Well, if we’re so stupid, how come I was the only guy who had an axe?”