Warsong (Chronicles of the Warlands, #6)(80)

“Amyu,” Rafe gave her a grin. “Come and sit. We missed the senel, didn’t we?”

“It is still going on, but the Warlord announced that he would leave in two days’ time. Now they speak of Xyian matters.” she slid into a space on the bench next to him. “Did you find anything?”

Rafe shook his head. “No, no airions. We found the cave you were in, but little else. Still the mountain is beautiful, and we learned much of climbing.”

“And falling,” Ksand grimaced.

Rafe laughed. “True enough,” he said, taking a moment to stuff his face with a meat pie. “Good,” he mumbled around his mouthful. “Two days will give us enough time to prepare. Lasa lost her dagger in a tumble, and we left Fylin with Master Eln to stitch up a deep gash. Couldn’t use bloodmoss, too dirty.” Rafe took a long drink from his mug. “Let us tell you, that mountain is a force of the elements in its own right.”

Amyu let their talk wash over her as they described their adventure, chiming in and talking over each other. She even worked up enough of an appetite to eat a bit of bread and butter.

Horns sounded, and everyone lifted their heads. “End of the senel.” Rafe started to rise. “Best we report to the Warlord.”

They all rose. Amyu followed them out of the kitchens, but took another path as they headed to the royal chambers. She’d left a few tunics and the basket of shards in Joden’s room. She’d get them quickly, and be done.

The room was the same, unchanged, still smelling slightly of their bodies and sharing. Amyu opened the shutters and turned back. Joden had made up the bed and had folded her tunics off to the side, sitting them on a chair. On top of the tunics was the basket holding the shards of the sword.

Amyu took them up, and cast a glance about, looking for anything else she’d left behind. But there was nothing left of hers, well, no things. But her dreams?

Anxious not to cry again, anxious to have done with her pain, she shut that thought down and turned toward the door.

Joden stood there, his face filled with questions




Joden stood in the doorway, his heart sinking as he saw Amyu gather up her things.

She turned, her arms full and stared at him before dropping her gaze. Her eyes were red and puffy and stricken.

“Singer—” she started.

“Amyu,” he sang her name, not wanting to stumble over it.

Amyu frowned. “You don’t need to do that with me,” she said. “Not if you don’t want to.”

Joden nodded. “L-l-let t-t-there b-b-be t-t-truth b-b-between u-u-us.”

“Good.” She straightened and looked him straight in the eye, her sweet brown eyes sad and determined. “Here is my truth, Joden of the Hawk. You are a Singer, destined for greatness on the Plains and beyond. You have taken the old paths, and shown your willingness to sacrifice for your people.

“A Singer must be an example to the People,” her voice cracked. “A Keeper of the way of the Plains, of our traditions.” She drew a ragged breath. “This, what is between us, is not of our ways.”

“A-a-amyu,” Joden’s heart shared the pain he saw in her eyes.

“You are a Singer—” Amyu’s voice was shaking.

“N-n-not,” Joden shook his head. “M-m-may n-n-not.” He shook his head in frustration, then sang the words, “A Singer’s voice must be true, their words strong.”

“And yours are, and will grow stronger. You are an admired and respected Singer-to-be,” Amyu continued. “You can’t have a child in your tent or at your side, in defiance of the ways of the Plains.”

Joden stepped toward her, his arms open.

Amyu took a step back. “Look me in the eye, and deny this truth,” she challenged.

Joden lowered his own gaze and his arms, and could not speak. His throat closed with pain, his stomach knotted. As a Singer, he should be the first to urge her to the snows. But she stood before him, lovely, vibrant, her pained brown eyes wet with tears.

“The Warlord departs in two days,” she said. “You will ride with him, in all honor. I will remain in Xy. A child. An outcast.”

Joden shook his head. “W-w-we w-w-would p-p-protect—”

“And lose honor in so doing,” Amyu said. “The Warlord can’t risk losing all he has worked for in defense of one barren warrior,” she continued. “I have a worth here.” She looked down at the basket of shards. “I just haven’t found it yet.”

“W-w-worth t-t-to m-m-me,” Joden said. He couldn’t bear her pain any longer and opened his arms again.

Her face crumpled and she walked into his arms, crushing the basket and tunics between them. Her voice was muffled in his chest as he put his chin on the top of her head. “You have seen me as I am, not as child or as failure. I thank you for that truth. I will carry it with me as long as I live.”

Joden hugged her tight, taking in the scent of the Plains in her hair.

But then Amyu stepped back, and he let his arms drop, letting her go. She gave him a watery smile. “But here is another truth. I am too much the coward. I need to stop here. I will not come to you again, and I beg you not to come to me.”

She pushed past him to the door, and he turned to watch it close behind her. He sank down on the bed, his legs losing all their strength.