WarDance (Chronicles of the Warlands #5)(60)

Provided of course, everything went according to plan.

His grin faded as he gave a groan at that thought. After all, he knew well the truth of, ‘If you wish to hear the winds laugh, tell them your plans.’

There was a scratching at the flap to his sleeping area.

“Come,” he said.

Snowfall entered, gracefully carrying a tray with kavage. “Good morning, Warlord.”

She stood, holding the tray, in her leather trous and corselet. A sheen of rain covered the tattoos that capped her strong shoulders, and the droplets also gleamed in her hair. Her face was neutral.

“Morning.” Simus sat up, feeling the bruising in his ribs all the more this morning. He groaned, throwing back the blankets and sitting cross-legged on his bed. He reached up and stretched.

Snowfall was giving him a critical look. “The bruising seems less,” she said. “You should use more of that ointment.”

Simus lowered his arms and gave her a bright, hopeful look. She’d declined to share before but this was a new day. “Perhaps you could rub it on for me?”

To Simus’s disappointment, Snowfall didn’t even blink. Didn’t even raise one of those delicate eyebrows. “No. Here’s kavage for now,” she said calmly.

Simus admired the movement of her lovely hips as she knelt to place the tray next to him. She rose just as smoothly, displaying the long length of her legs. “I will have your meal ready shortly.”

“Send word to Yers that I would hold a senel as soon as I have eaten,” Simus said with a sigh. “Ask Joden to join us as well.” He reached for the kavage. “Do not raise the challenge banners this morning.”

Snowfall bowed her head. “As you wish, Warlord.”

With that, she was gone.

Simus deflated slightly with another sigh, then reached for the pitcher. She hadn’t seemed interested.

On the other hand, she hadn’t seemed un-interested. Simus’s grin returned. He’d take his victories where he may.

He stood, twisting and stretching, warming stiff muscles. It was odd, how comfortable her presence was within his tent. Snowfall was...restful. A quiet strength beside him.

She’d maintained his tent, showed in visitors, and met every challenge offered to her blades. Even Yers, as wary as he was, offered her respect. But those grey eyes revealed nothing in a face that was forever calm and serene.

Yet she also didn’t let him get away with anything. She never laughed at Simus’s asides or wild statements. Never rolled her eyes. Her face was always serene and cool.

It was annoying. Fascinating. Enticing.

He thought on that as he finished his kavage, and reached for his armor and weapons.

“Don’t forget the ointment,” Snowfall called from the main tent.

See? She cared. Simus grinned to himself, put down his padded tunic, and rummaged for the jar.

As he attended to his side, he thought on Snowfall. The mystery behind her eyes. It must take a great deal of work to control herself like that. To keep her face smooth and unresponsive, not cracking the slightest smile. A lot of control.

What would it take, he thought, to cause her to lose her mask? To see her smile, or laugh, or watch those eyes spark in rage. Or melt into pleasure at the touch of his hands?

A goal, Simus resolved as he strapped on his sword and dagger. Something to think on as he went through his day. Something to work on.

It was good to have goals.




It occurred to Snowfall that in one thing, Warlords and warrior-priests did not differ. At least, in the males.

She’d declined his offer of sharing with regret. He was a fine-looking man, well formed in all ways, and she had to suppress a certain curiosity as to his other...skills.

But there would be complications, with the other warriors if no one else. But also the magic. What if it flared as they shared their bodies? Her tattoos were already expressing some of her emotions. What if they responded in ways she couldn’t control? No, that was not worth the risk of satisfying her...curiosity. Even if his offer had heated her body. This was not the time or the place.

Still, her refusal had taken him back. That pleased her. Not that she would display that pleasure, one way or another.

What pleased her more was his acceptance after his initial shock. He accepted it. Oh, he pouted a bit, not that he would think of it as such. But still, she doubted few declined his offer of bedding as she had.

But while her Warlord’s mood was a good one, it seemed the Plains were of a different opinion. The wind was cold and biting, setting the leather tent sides to moving back and forth. The damp crept into the corner of every tent and every bone in a warrior’s body. No need to keep the challenge banners down; every warrior in camp not on duty was within a tent, seeing to tasks done well out of the rain and cold.

Snowfall sent out the messages as commanded while Simus ate.

She set the braziers burning in the command tent, and made the kavage strong and hot. She greeted his Second and Third with steaming mugs as they entered and shed their dripping cloaks. All of them accepted the mugs gratefully, even Yers. As others entered behind them, she greeted them as well.

And when all was in readiness, she ignored the stares and the side-ways glances, took up her Warlord’s token, and waited for him to call the senel to order.




Simus was amused to see that Ouse and Lander were aiding Snowfall with the serving at the senel. Trust the young ones to try to be present when decisions were to be made.