Warsong (Chronicles of the Warlands, #6)(68)

“Joden said they were dead, except for those that followed Wild Winds,” Lara reminded

him.

“Forgive me if I do not mourn for those dead,” Keir’s voice was flat, his anger clear. “But who in this do they support?” he continued. “All I have is questions. And…” His voice faded away. He rolled over onto his back, and pulled the blanket down from their heads. The cooler air made Lara shiver. She shifted closer under the blanket and put her head on his shoulder.

“And all the answers are to be found on the Plains,” she finished for him.

“I do not want to leave you,” Keir’s voice was a cracked rumble under her ear. His arms tightened around her. “I do not want to leave them.” His pain was clear.

She brought her hand up to lay on his heart.

“It is not the same as the thea camps,” he said. “In the thea camps all cared for all. There was no meaning, no connection with—” he struggled with his words.

“There was love, but not like this.” She lifted her head, and her curls escaped to fall around his face.

He nodded, then looked awed. “They change every day,” he whispered. “Their eyes focus, their tiny hands reach. Already, their spirits shine. I see you in them, in so many ways.”

“As I see you,” Lara pressed her lips to his. “Keir, we always knew that you would return to the Plains.”

“In the Fall,” he said with just a hint of desperation. “When they were older and you were fully healed. Not now, not so soon—”

“You must go,” Lara said. She lifted her hand to brush back her curls. “And we will go with you.”

“No,” Keir’s arms tightened around her.

“My Council supports us, what with the promise of trade routes opening up, and the money flowing from Crown,” Lara said. “Heath will serve as the Warden of Xy, and keep the kingdom secure.”

“No,” Keir repeated. “I want you here, safe, within stone walls, with as many strong warriors as I can spare.”

“You can’t spare any,” Lara said. She smiled down into his blue eyes. “I followed you once before, my Warlord. I will do so again, with babes in my arms if I must.”

“Flame of my heart—”

“Hush,” she said. “We can argue it out tomorrow. Let’s enjoy our peace while we can.” She put her head back down on his chest. “Do you think that Amyu knows she is in love with Joden?”

“Lara,” Keir said. “He is a Singer. In the eyes of the Plains, Amyu is—”

Lara lifted her head and glared at him. “She is no child.”

“In your eyes,” Keir said.

“Firelanders,” Lara grumbled.

“City-dweller,” Keir rolled them both over and pressed her to the bed. “Let’s not think on them.” He smiled. “Let’s think on us.”

Lara wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down. They kissed for long, slow, glorious moments.

A whimper, and then a cry, joined by another little voice, came from the cradle.

They both groaned.




By that evening, Joden was exhausted. Exhausted from the effort of speaking, of struggling to get the words out. Exhausted from the emotions of the day, not to mention sparring with Keir.

Anna had one of her maids take him to his room, but only after she’d had him bathe, and fed him again.

He recognized the room as Marcsi opened the door. “Th-th-this,” he forced out, grimacing with effort. “W-w-war—”

“The Queen’s old room,” Marcsi smiled as she went straight in, checking the fire and pulling a pot from under the bed.

Joden put his armload of armor and weapons on the bed. Anna had given him tunic and trous to wear for sleeping.

Marcsi lit the candles on the mantle. “Sleep well, my lord,” she bowed out and closed the door behind her.

Joden sat on the bed with a sigh.

He knew this room, remembered it from the tour that Lara had given to Keir and his warriors. It felt like ages since then.

He glanced at the window. He remembered that it overlooked the city, and the fields and burial mounds beyond the walls. Where the dead had been standing.

He didn’t look out.

He set about preparing to sleep, grateful for the warmth of the fire, and the smaller bed. It was one of the huge soft ones that Simus had told him about. Not as comfortable as gurtle pads, but Joden was fairly certain he would fall asleep on a bed of rocks this night.

He organized his armor and put the weapons within reach. He stripped off the tunic and trous and slipped within the bedding. City-dwellers were still such puzzles. Imagine wearing clothes to bed.

He settled, and closed his eyes, feeling that he was missing something. He reached out next to him, thinking…

Amyu was not there.

He pulled his hand back. His bed was empty, and his chest ached.

Of course she wasn’t there. She’d been kind, getting him down off the mountain, and to Keir and Lara. Even kinder when she’d asked him to wait to go to the snows. So young to be so steadfast, not even a true warrior in the ways of the Plains. But in truth she was under no obligation to him, and what did he have to offer her?

He wasn’t even sure who he was anymore.