Warsong (Chronicles of the Warlands, #6)(115)

That met with agreement, and smiles, and a few knowing looks. Joden was willing to endure it all, when Amyu turned to him. “Come. Let’s fly.”




Golden flew them both up to the tunnel cave, winging back to land on the ledge.

“T-t-that was scarier than Hail Storm,” Joden released his death grip on Amyu’s waist and dismounted.

“I held you safe.” Amyu released their packs from the harness, and slid from the saddle.

“Isn’t he beautiful,” Amyu asked as she scratched Golden under his jaw. The airion clacked in appreciation.

“N-n-not a-a-as b-b-beautiful.” Amyu flushed and waited as he finished. “A-a-as y-y-you.”

Amyu dropped their packs, stepped over, and pulled him into a kiss. Joden returned it with enthusiasm, using his lips and hands to express everything his voice couldn’t.

They parted, breathless, still clinging to one another.

Amyu stared up at him. “I have so much to tell you, so much I want to talk with you about. I will steal this night, and any other nights I can before you must go. It might not be right, it might risk you becoming a Singer, but—”

Joden put his fingers over her mouth and shushed her, shaking his head.

“Don’t be stupid,” Amyu said. “The Plains need your truths, and as a Singer.”

Joden shook his head again, and took a breath. “I cannot live this lie, for there is no honor in denying what is. I love you,” his voice trembled in the melody. He reached out and took her face in his hands. “That is the highest truth of all, Amyu of the Skies. I would ask you to bond with me in the traditions of the Plains, yes, even when our traditions dictate that you should go to the snows.”

Amyu was crying. She turned her face into his palm, and kissed it.

“I will stand by your side, for to do any less is to deny the truth of my heart. And if I deny this about myself, how can I stand before our people and speak any truth that will be believed?”

Joden shook his head.

“Joden, beloved,” Amyu flung herself into his arms, and Joden found joy in their lips coming together with heartfelt promises.

Until a noise at the cave entrance caught their attention. Golden had one of the leather straps of the packs in his beak, chewing it.

“Golden,” Amyu scolded, stepping back and wiping her tears.

The airion froze, looking as guilty as an airion could.

“T-t-they u-u-understand?” Joden asked.

“Some words,” Amyu said. “We are still learning, aren’t we?” She untangled the pack from beak and claw. Then she started to unbuckled the saddle.

Golden mantled his wings, clacking his beak.

“Hunt,” Amyu said, getting a tight grip on the saddle. The airion slipped out from under it, and took off, wings flaring as it disappeared from view. She put the saddle upside down, and then brushed her hands off. “There is still so much to learn,” she said. “About the airions, about the powers—”

“About each other,” Joden sang.

Amyu gave him a smoldering look as she tossed his pack at him. “Just you set up our bedrolls,” she commanded. “And we will start on that.”

Joden grinned and hastened to obey.

Later, as their fire died, with the blankets thrown back to cool their hot, sweaty bodies, Joden turned to whisper in Amyu’s ear. He sang the words he wanted her to hear. “So I say this truth to you, Amyu of the— Amyu reached out, and placed her fingers on his lips. “No,” she whispered. “Too soon,” she curled in closer to him and smiled. There was no rejection in her eyes. “It’s too soon, Joden. Ask me again, when we have lived with the changes in our lives for a time. Ask me again, after the Fall Council.”

Joden pulled Amyu in close, and nodded.

“In the meantime,” she continued, her voice rough with the need for sleep. “Let’s talk about the stupidity of going to the Heart alone. What were you think—”

Joden stopped her mouth with a kiss, and then another, and another, until they found a different way to distract each other.





Chapter Forty


When the grasses of the Plains began to dry, the wyverns rose with their young and scattered in every direction, returning to their territories. With warnings and watchful eyes, the Xyians were ready. Amyu, Lightning Strike, and the others rose on their airions to meet them.

Wyverns quickly learned a lesson in blood.

When the grasses of the Plains turned red as fire, Keir and Lara once again organized a march to the border. But this time, the wagons brimmed with food, and clothing and bedding and leather and all sorts and sundry that the thea camps would need to carry them until Spring.

The Xyian forces bolstered those at the border, commanded by Liam of the Deer, with Marcus at his side.

Anna insisted, and Lara agreed, that this time the babes would remain at the City of Water’s Fall. Part of Lara’s agreement was the wonderful portal magic of Rhys of Palins. But all agreed that this secret was one to be kept for now.

Simus was the first to arrive outside the Heart, to claim the place for his tent and Keir’s and crow with delight when the Heart was cleared and the new Council Tent was raised over it.

Once again, the Heart beat with the life of the Plains, for every warrior, every thea, every Elder and Warlord came to witness this Council. Osa and Ultie were the last Warlords to arrive.