Warsong (Chronicles of the Warlands, #6)(79)

The crowd’s laughter joined hers. Yet Joden could see relief in many eyes. She’d been wise to reassure them.

“We also extend our deepest thanks to the people of Water’s Fall,” Lara said. “Our warriors are now prepared, and fully supplied thanks to their efforts.”

“We depart for the border with the Plains in two days,” Keir said. “We will take a force of Plains and Xyian warriors with us.” He paused, surveying the faces around him, and then continued, apparently satisfied with their reactions. “We have had no word from Liam of the Deer or Simus of the Hawk in some time. We do not know what we will find there, but we will be ready for all things. Supply wagons will travel with us.”

“As will Xykeirson and Xykayla,” Lara’s voice was as sharp as a sword. Joden could see disapproval in some Xyian eyes.

“If they go, I go,” another voice chimed in. Anna stood there, defiant, back by the door with Marcus. Anna’s stout arms were crossed over her chest. “And none to say me nay, either.”

That caused a stir, but Joden frowned at something else. Amyu wasn’t where she had been, standing next to Marcus. Where was she?

“Heath will act as Warden of Xy in addition to his duties as Seneschal the Castle of Water’s Fall.” Lara said firmly, speaking over the murmurs. Heath stepped forward and bowed to her. Lara smiled. “He and his bonded, Atira of the Bear, have our full faith and trust.”

“Lord Marshall Warren and Wilsa of the Lark will be traveling with us. Wilsa will serve as my Second,” Keir said. He was the picture of confidence, seated on the throne. “They have sent word that they have routed the bandits and will arrive shortly. Forces will remain here and at the border to ward Xy.” Keir looked over at Heath. “As to the wyverns…” he gestured to the younger man.

“We have found age-old weapons called balista stored in the ancient tunnels,” Heath said. “I have men working to figure out how to install them on the various towers. In addition, every man on the walls has crossbows and bolts and alarm horns. We will be on watch for when, or if the creatures return.”

Joden shifted his weight slightly, anxious to have this senel over. He needed to go find Amyu, but he could not leave his post.

“Despite this activity, we do not feel that it should delay the departure of the trade mission to the Kingdoms of Nyland and Cadthorn,” Lara continued. “Lord Korvis, how go your preparations?”

Joden sighed as the man puffed up like a pigeon, and resolved himself to wait until the senel had ended.




Amyu wept to hear Joden’s voice ring through the throne room. Glorious, strong and clear.

He was a Singer.

She’d tried to avoid the truth of it even as he had worked with Master Eln and the Warprize.

He was a Singer.

She was a child.

Her heart filled with joy, but she felt the cracks as well, forming bitter, hard shards.

“I’ll check on the wet nurse,” she whispered to Marcus, unable to stop her tears.

He gave her a look with his one eye that told her he’d seen through her excuse, but he gave her a sharp nod.

All was well in the royal chambers. The smiling wet nurse was grateful to give up her watch. The babes were sleeping quietly, which was a blessing from the elements. Amyu took up one of the clean nappies, sat down and indulged in quiet tears.

Joden had found a way to deal with his voice, and she shouldn’t—couldn’t—cling to him. He would become a Singer, upholder of the traditions and the ways of the Plains. He was destined for glory, to stand at the side of the Warlord and the Warprize, and yes, become Eldest Elder, of that she had no doubt. For him, for all that would be, she was so happy and so proud, and yet there was a blade caught in her heart, making it hard to breathe.

Amyu muffled her face with the cloth and let the sobs come freely.

But weeping endlessly is not a warrior’s way. She dried her face with a determination she did not feel, and yet anger boiled in her gut. Anger at a problem she could not solve, a flaw within her that she could not fix.

Marcus slid into the room, casting a careful eye toward the cradle. “Xyians,” he muttered. “They are still talking trade routes and will be at it most of the night.” He took in Amyu’s face. “Go. Eat. I will take watch.”

Amyu nodded and headed toward the door. Marcus stepped aside to let her through. “You could try talking to him,” Marcus offered. “Talk to Joden about—”

“As you did Liam?” Amyu lashed out.

Marcus stiffened. She’d never seen him so stricken but she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

“I will protect him from himself,” Amyu hissed, fully expecting Marcus to draw his daggers. “As you protected Liam. I know Joden’s worth, and I will not let him waste it on me.” Heart pounding, she continued recklessly on, “But do not tell me that all will be well. Any more than it is for you.”

She didn’t wait for his reaction. She slid out and eased the door closed, so as not to wake the babes. Her anger bubbled as she pounded down the stairs, but it faded with every step, leaving only pain.

The kitchens were being cleaned and settled for the night, but Amyu found a table full of warriors. Marcsi was serving them kavage, bread, and cheese and the talk was lively.

“Rafe?” Amyu called, and his head popped up from the table.