Warlord (38 page)

"Your chosen Warlord comes before you, naked and bearing no weapons." Reness spoke from behind me. Her choice of words made her support very clear.

Keir sank down further on his haunches, and bowed his head.

"Your chosen Warrior submits to you, Warprize," Essa added.

Keir lifted his hands, palms up, as I had done so long ago.

Wild Winds spoke now, with just a touch of sarcasm in his voice. "You are free to reject or claim him Warprize. Speak, under open skies, and it will be as you desire."

The words Keir had spoken in the throne room echoed in my mind. I reached out, and placed my hands over his. "Thus do I claim my Warlord."

Wild cheering rose again. I tugged on Keir's hands and he rose to stand before me, blue eyes gleaming as he looked down into my eyes. I lifted his hands so that our palms came together, and slipped my fingers between his. "Kiss me, Keir."

"Lara." Keir leaned down, and the sounds of cheering melted away. His lips on mine, I leaned into him, conscious of the thin white material of his trous, and the scent of vanilla on his skin. It was passion, and heat, and love, with the promise of a lifetime behind it.

"The snows are upon us!" Essa declared. "The Council of Elders is closed, until the warmth and new grass appears. But for this night, let the celebration begin!"

Later, I found myself seated with Keir on the stone circle, as patterns were danced before us. Marcus was close, as was Amyu, and all of those who had supported us. Atira and Heath had just left, promising a special dance in my honor, something that Atira had designed herself.

I leaned against Keir's shoulder with a sigh. Simus had produced Keir's weapons and leather armor and Keir was once again the fierce, well-armed warrior of the Plains. A pity really. He'd looked wonderful in those trous. Maybe I could convince him to wear them to bed? I felt my lips curl into a smile at the idea. Keir, lying on our bed, wearing naught but. . .

As if he caught my thought, Keir's lips brushed my ear. "That is an interesting look, Warprize." He nuzzled my neck. "What are you thinking of?"

I gave him a sideways glance, and decided to be honest. "You. Those trous. Our bed."

Keir cleared his throat and shifted on his stool.

I lowered my voice. "Our own private celebration." I put my hand on his thigh, and scratched my fingers over the leather.

He put his hand over mine, capturing it. "It would be rude to leave before seeing Atira's pattern danced."

I sighed. "Truth. But then, you are a Warlord of the Plains. Bold. Demanding." I wiggled my fingers in his grasp. "Rude, upon occasion."

"None of that now." Marcus spoke behind me. He was cloaked, and staying behind us.

"Mar-cus," I whined.

"War-prize," he mimicked. "Time enough for that after the patterns are danced. Woven especially for this celebration."

"Yes." Keir squeezed my fingers, looking smug. "Behave, Warprize."

I looked at him in astonishment.

Marcus snorted. "Like you aren't a stallion ready for his mare."

I straightened at that, flushing up like a girl. "Marcus!"

"Hush, the both of you," Marcus scolded. "I've a tent set up, down by the water, far from any others, where you can be as private as the Warprize desires."

"Warded?" Keir growled.

"Yes," Marcus answered firmly. "Close enough to guard, but far enough for privacy. I'll be close as well, with all your gear." He glared at me. "Including your satchel."

"Well, in that case," I said, smiling at Keir. "I'll wait long enough to see a pattern or two danced."

Marcus handed us both mugs of kavage, and nudged us to draw our attention to the area in front of us. I looked, and laughed out loud. Atira had woven a pattern dance based on a chess game. The pieces were all there, and two players stood at either end of the 'board'.

Only this game involved actual combat between the pieces. As each piece moved, it fought the others. It was a fascinating weaving of game and dance, and we all cried out our approval when the 'king' was finally checkmated.

At the end, Keir rose and swept me up in his arms. Laughter and calls came from all sides as he strode from the circle, following Marcus. I could hear the grasses pull at his trous as he walked. In the distance, along the shore, I could see a tent, as private as I could wish it to be. Behind us, Simus rose and summoned the others to follow behind us. Keir and I would be safe for this night.

I wrapped my arms about Keir's neck. "So, how shall we celebrate, my Warlord?" I asked playfully as he walked. "Perhaps you'd like to play a game of chess? Or I could read to you from the 'Epic of Xyson'."

Keir growled low in his throat. "I have something else in mind, Lara."

"Really? What might that be?" I asked, nuzzling his neck.

He turned his head and whispered in my ear. I flushed, my face hot. "Walk faster, Keir."

"As you command, Warprize."

Keir dismissed Marcus and carried me into the tent. I was pleased to see the lamp that Keekai had given us, its light sputtering happily.

Chuckling deep in his chest, Keir pinned me to the bed in one smooth movement and kissed me. I hummed in quiet pleasure, as he coaxed my lips open then explored my mouth, plundering deep then pulling back to nibble on the edge of my bottom lip.

As he continued to explore, I felt his hands travel over the fabric of my dress to cup my breast. I reached out then, to explore his back, but felt only the hard leather of his armor. I pulled back. "Keir, I want to feel you."

He rose then, one knee on the bed, and started to unstrap his weapons and the leather armor. I sighed, as he removed his clothing, one piece at a time. His eyes never left mine. "If you keep looking at me like that," he said, "this celebration will be over before it starts."

I smiled at him. "Oh, I think you are warrior enough for this battle." I reached up, intending to pull the ribbons from my hair.

Keir drew in a swift breath. "No, Lara. Let me do that." Still in his trous, he stretched out next to me, and tugged at the ribbons. My hair spilled out in a wave over his hand. Keir lifted a handful to his nose, and drew a deep breath. "I missed this. More than I thought possible."

"My hair?" I asked playfully.

"The sight of you." He studied me in all seriousness. "Your scent. Your presence in my tent. In my bed." He leaned down and planted kisses all over my face, soft warm touches to my skin. I closed my eyes as he moved to my jaw, nibbling along the edge. Keir sighed when I tilted my head back, granting him access. His warm breath caressed my damp skin. Finally, he moved back to claim my lips, and kissed me gently, until I was left breathless, tingling all over.

But he broke the kiss, an odd look of pain in his eyes.

"Keir," I asked softly, reaching up to cup his face, "what is it?"

"Skies, I thought I'd sent you to your death." His eyes were filled with pain.

"Stop." I rolled to my side, and started stroking his chest. I could feel him take a breath, and relax into my touch. "I'm here, alive and well."

Keir buried his face in my hair, nuzzling my neck with a soft murmur of enjoyment. He reached out and pulled me closer so that our bodies touched. His hand moved down my back, to rest his fingers at the base of my spine, and toyed with the lacings.

I wiggled a bit, at the faint teasing touch of his fingers as they eased through the lacings to caress my skin. "Keir, don't tease."

"Tease?" His breath was warm on my neck. "And where are your underthings, my proper Xyian woman?"

"They might have been seen." I moved my hips, trying to escape his teasing. "A proper Xyian woman does not expose her underthings to the world."

"Mmm," Keir mused. "So my very proper Xyian woman is open and waiting for me, under this dress." His hand stilled.

"Oh, yes." I smiled slowly, and spread my hands out over his chest, to tease the sparse hairs. I made sure to run the tips of my fingers over his nipples. "Unlace me, and you will see how open. How willing."

His fingers pulled at the knot. "It may take some time to work my way through this tangle. I must have a care." Keir leaned in and brushed his lips over mine. "Marcus will have a fit if I harm this dress."

I squirmed again, as he started to pull the laces through. "Keir. That will take forever."

"I can think of a way to pass the time." His blue eyes gleamed, and he kissed me.

They were long, slow kisses that left me moaning. Try as I might, I couldn't get him to hurry. I shifted my legs within the confines of the dress and the soft fabric slipped over my skin. "Keir," I begged.

His fingers tugged at the next bit of lacings as his fingertips caressed the skin below. "So when I reach the end, and slowly pull your dress down, your breasts will be taut, and eager for my touch." Keir licked just below my ear, and I shuddered. "And when my hand slips under your dress, I will find you warm and ready." There was such satisfaction in his rough tone, a certain arrogance. I blinked at him, dazed with passion. His eyes were blazing, bright blue in his bronzed face. "Thus do I claim my Warprize."

I moaned again, and closed my eyes, surrendering to the pleasure of his touch. But just before I lost myself, I remembered.

Thank you, Goddess . . . Lady of the Moon and Stars, thank you.

I awoke in the morning, feeling wonderful. Warm and safe, spooned against Keir, his arm over my waist. There were faint sounds from outside. Horses perhaps. The distant sound of someone working around a fire. That had to be Marcus, seeing to our meal. I lifted my head, and took a deep breath. Marcus was making bread tarts.

My stomach rumbled.

Carefully, I eased out of Keir's arms and reached for his cloak. I'd wrap up just long enough to get something from Marcus, and crawl back into bed with Keir. As I tied it at the neck, I smiled to see him sprawled over the bed, sleeping. Seems I'd worn my Warlord out the night before. I smiled even wider to see those white trous cling to his skin. Perhaps I could persuade him to take them off for me.

After I got some food.

I stepped out onto the flattened grass, and looked about. We were along the shore, a fair distance from the Heart. I couldn't see any movement in that direction. To my right, I could see a far smaller tent set up by the shore. That had to be Marcus's. There were horses there as well, grazing. One of them, a brown one, lifted his head and neighed a welcome. It was sure to be Greatheart.

I started walking in that direction, clutching the cloak to me, and watching where I put my feet. There was a path of flattened grass that I followed, between the tufts of taller grasses. It wouldn't do to cut my feet on anything. I'd never hear the end of that from Marcus. Or Keir, for that matter.

Marcus emerged from his small tent, and saw me coming. He waved in recognition, but started to work on some pans at the fire pit. I quickened my step, lured by the promise of warm bread tarts. The air was crisp, and the sun had not yet warmed the earth. I really should have put on my slippers, but the grass was soft enough.

Marcus straightened as I approached, a pleased look on his face as I walked up to his fire. "Kavage, Warprize?" His voice was low. "The bread tarts will be done in a moment."

I nodded. "And gurt, if you have some." I moved to stand in the area that had been cleared between the fire and the tall grasses. "Keir's still asleep."

"No harm there," Marcus noted. He moved about the fire, and reached for the kavage pot. "Hisself could use the—"

The grass behind him rustled with movement.

With no other warning, Iften leapt out, armored, with a dagger in his hand, soaking wet, and covered in dirt and grass. Before I could even react, he lunged at Marcus from his blindspot.

Frozen, I watched in horror as Iften plunged his dagger into Marcus's side. For one long horrible moment we stood, silent and stock-still. Iften jerked his blade free, and time flowed once again.

Marcus clutched at his side. He staggered back from the fire, managing a harsh whisper before he collapsed. "Run!"

I ran, screaming Keir's name.

Iften lunged for me, his hand reaching out for the hem of the cloak. He caught it and jerked. I stumbled back, jerking the cloth from his hand. But he was now between me and the tent where Keir lay. Iften's teeth gleamed as he snarled in satisfaction, his lips stained with brown spittle.