Текст книги "Warprize"

Автор книги: Elizabeth A. Vaughan

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

The city walls and the castle gleamed in the sun. The scattered greenery on the mountain held the first faint traces of yellow. Soon the first snows would come, the water falls would freeze, and for the first time in my life, I wouldn’t be here to see it. The thought was both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

The wind caught my hair, whipping it into my eyes. With a last look, I returned to my work.

“I have given up expecting you to remember the nooning.” I looked up as Marcus entered the tent with food and drink.

“I’m sorry, Marcus. I lost track of time.”

“Sorry, sorry, that doesn’t fill a body.” He shed his cloak and fussed, clearing space for his load. “And what is that awful smell?”

“A potion for the—” I frowned, not knowing the right words. “For an illness of the bowels.”

He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Eat. If you can.”

I dug in and smiled at him. His face remained stem, but his eye twinkled. “You are in a better mood, eh?”

“So are you.”

He mock-glared at me. “I managed a nice nap, thank you kindly.”

“Has Keir returned?”

Marcus shook his head. “Hisself is probably making them miserable up there, poking and prodding for answers. Don’t be worried for him.” He moved off toward the tent entrance. “See that you bring the dishes back with you this evening.”

I kept working, cooling the potion and storing it away. The liniment took more mixing then anything, and I made up multiple bottles, including one for myself. I rubbed it on my throat, feeling the warmth as it worked into the tender flesh.

I contented myself with smaller tasks until Gils returned. Atira was more than ready for a bath, and we made quite a mess between getting her clean and soaking the leather. Gils and I were tired when all was done, and I sent him to fetch some kavage for us from the cook tent. Horsemen came thundering by as he returned.

“The Warlord’s be back,” Gils reported as he served. “Looking awful mad.”

Someone had brought Atira a bunch of daggers to sharpen to keep her busy. She and Gils both worked on them as I read to them from the Epic, translating as I went. Atira and Gils were fascinated, by both the story and by the oddity of the written word. The poem was entering the planning part of the expedition, and while I was bored to death with the number of bales and pack mules, my audience was absorbed in the telling. I’d reached the part where Xyson was expelling the evil creatures from Xy when the sound of an approaching horseman interrupted us. Someone had come up to the tent and was speaking to the guards.

I closed the book. “Enough for one day.”

Atira nodded. “Maybe tomorrow we can start reading?” She used the Xyian word.

I nodded, stood, and stretched. Joden stuck his head in. “Warprize, may I talk to you?”

Gils objected. “The bandage’s be needing changed, Warprize.”

I sat back down. “I’m at the mercy of my healer, Joden.” He smiled, his face unreadable. I gestured toward one of the stumps, as Gils helped me with the tunic.

But Joden shook his head. “I’ll wait for you in the other tent.”

I stared after him, wondering, as Gils bandaged my arm.

“Is there any news?” I asked as I entered the stilltent.

Joden sighed. “Durst does well. Xymund denies any knowledge of Arneath’s actions. He claims that there is a faction of the city that is unhappy about the peace. Warren hasn’t found any hint of a conspiracy. Keir questioned many people, but we could find no trace of…” he paused, an unhappy look on his face.

“No trace of Xymund’s involvement.” I finished calmly.

Joden nodded, sitting heavily on a stool. “Simus has taken him to the practice grounds to work out his frustrations.” Joden held up a hand to stave me off. “Simus said to tell you that he will only sit on the sidelines and yell insults.” He heaved a sigh. “It will do them both good.”

I moved to one of the tables and started rearranging the items there. “Joden, as far as I know, everyone wants peace between your people and mine.” I shrugged. “There may have been members of the Guard that were upset by it.” I gave him a wry glance. “There may be members of this army that are upset, since Keir had them on alert the other night, for no good reason.”

Joden looked at me, puzzled. “That is not so, Warprize. You are treasured.”

Treasured. I tightened the cork on a bottle, then made a decision. Whatever the answer, whatever my status, I needed to know.

“Joden.” I kept my eyes on the bottle, turning it in my hands. “Has Keir ever sold a warprize?”

I heard a slight choking sound behind me, but I lacked the courage to turn around. “I mean, I think I could learn to share him with the other warprizes.” I gulped against the lump in my throat. “But to never see him again, I don’t think I could do that. I mean, I know that I am his slave, but I…” I shut my mouth before I babbled any more. The silence from behind me seemed to confirm all my fears. My shoulders slumped, the weight of my pain pulling them down. Goddess.

“Lara?”

I caught my breath, hearing my name spoken like that. As if I were a person, not a slave, or a thing, or a warlord’s prize. Joden was using my name as if I was a person he valued. Someone who mattered. I hadn’t realized how important that was to me until I’d heard it again, spoken in a caring voice. Tears flooded into my eyes as I turned, to see Joden pat the crate next to him. I stumbled over and sat, wiping my eyes. I couldn’t quite bring myself to meet his gaze.

“Let us just be Lara and Joden for this moment, alone, in this tent.” His voice was sympathetic. “You used a word… ‘slave’… what does that mean?” I flushed, embarrassed. Joden put his hand on my shoulder. “Please, favor me. Tell me what it means.”

“It means a person who is owned as one would own a horse or a knife. A slave is absolutely subject to the will of his or her master.”

Joden leaned toward me, and I knew that he listened intently to my words. “A slave has no rights?” he asked. “No status?”

I nodded, keeping my eyes down.

He sat back, and took a deep breath. “No voice in his or her life?”

I nodded again, trying to control my tears.

“Lara, you believe yourself to be Keir’s slave, yes? Who told you this?”

I looked up at that. His face held only care and concern. “Xymund. Before the ceremony.”

Joden nodded again, frowning a little. “I would like to think the error unintentional, but I have doubts.” He shook his head. “And I think we are partly to blame, maybe because you seemed to learn our language so fast and so well.” He looked over my head, as if thinking, and came to some deci-sion. “ Lara, please listen to me carefully. And if I use a word you do not understand, ask me to explain it. Do not assume you know the meaning. Yes?” I nodded, and he leaned back a little, his hands on his knees.

“Among our people, warlords are warriors with experience in battle, enough so that they inspire men to follow them. A warlord does not get his army from his father, nor pass it to his child. It is earned by his own deeds. A warlord uses his or her skill to challenge for the right to gather men into armies, and use their armies to raid and pillage for the gain of all. So it is and so it has always been.”

I made as if to speak, but Joden held up a hand. “Now, our traditions tell us that there is yet another treasure that a warlord can obtain in battle. That is a warprize. A warprize must be discovered during the course of a battle, or on or near a battlefield. A warprize must render aid to the warlord or his men.” Joden lifted a finger. “Most important, a warprize must be attractive to a warlord, must spark feelings of desire.” He grinned slyly. “It is said that the attraction between warlord and warprize is as the heat of the sun that shines in the height of summer.”

I sat, my eyes wide, and listened.

“Now, once a warlord recognizes a potential warprize, he stops the fighting and enters into talks with the leaders of the land. He must negotiate for the warprize, making the best deal that he can.” Joden leaned back a little and chuckled. “Keir did well there.” He sobered and looked at me. “Having done that, a warprize must submit willingly to the warlord, before witnesses of both their peoples. Then a warprize is displayed to the warlord’s army. Upon their return to our lands, the confirmation ceremony is held before the Council of Elders.”

Joden reached for a flask of kavage that Marcus had brought and two cups, and poured for both of us. “ But even these ceremonies do not create a true warprize.”

Joden took a sip from his mug. “Lara, a true warprize is a rare thing. We value them, for our people have found that the warprize brings a new way of thinking, of doing things. It makes us better, stronger, when we are exposed to new ways and new ideas. You cannot fake a true warprize, nor pick one, nor force one. They happen maybe once in five generations, and we see it as a benediction from the elements themselves, even for the upheaval that they bring.”

I sat there, trying to make sense of his words.

“Our people started as tribes, tribes based on our totem animals. Keir is of the Cat, Simus is of the Hawk, as am I. There was a time when the tribes fought among themselves. It was the first warprize, long ago, that created that change, that united the tribes.” Joden rubbed his hand on his knees. “Why did you submit to Keir, if you thought you would be a slave?”

I had to swallow before I could answer, my mouth was so dry. “To save my people.”

Joden smiled slightly. “Lara, there are no other warprizes. When you submitted to Keir, you were submitting to give him a chance to court you, a chance to show you what you could and do mean to him.” He frowned again. “And this was explained to your king, probably privately, during the talks.”

He tilted his head, looking at me as if I was a child at my lessons. “Do you understand? You are not a ‘ slave’. You are a mate, a consort. You are second only to Keir in this camp. If you demand your freedom and leave this camp no one, including Keir,” he emphasized, “would lift a finger to stop you. By our laws and by our ways, you cannot be held here. Your presence in our camp is a gift to your people and our people and we acknowledge that gift.”

I blinked. “The bracelets…”

Joden smiled. “Keir had the bracelets crafted in hope. They are not a symbol of your…” He stumbled on the word. “… slavery. They are symbols of your potential bond.”

I still didn’t believe. “The token. Keir said that the token was not for me to use.”

Joden quirked his mouth. “How does it look if the woman you are courting feels she needs its protections?”

I just stared at him.

He met my eyes calmly. “You are not property. If you choose to leave, no one will stop you.”

I stood.

He stayed seated and watched me walk out of the tent.

Isdra looked up. “Need help with a pot, Warprize?”

I looked at her oddly, hearing ‘Warprize’ as a title, not a label or a thing.

My silence attracted Epor’s attention. He took up his war club and stood. “Warprize?”

Joden’s horse was outside, cropping at the sparse grass. I moved forward and grabbed the reins. Epor moved as if to follow me. “No. Stay here.”

Epor stopped dead. Isdra came to stand next to him. “Warprize,” she spoke quickly. “We are commanded to guard you—”

“I wish to leave camp.” I gave them a narrow glance.

Epor sucked in a breath. “If that is the case, we cannot stop you. But Warprize, please, let us get horses and escort you back to your people. Let us at least assure your safety.”

“No.”

Epor swallowed hard. Isdra went as white as her hair. Joden had followed me out of the tent and stood there looking at me. Isdra appealed to him. “Singer, please tell her that it’s for her own safety. The attempts on her life…”

I waited.

“She is the warprize, yes? And to be obeyed?” Joden asked.

Epor and Isdra both nodded. I swung myself up into the saddle.

Joden’s face did not change its expression as he looked up at me. “You are free, Lara. The only restraints on you are those of your own choosing.”

I turned the horse, jammed my toes into its belly, and it sprang down the road toward the camp’s main gate.

Through the camp we plunged, the horse’s mane and my hair streaming in the wind. The horse was willing, and I could feel its muscles move under me as its hooves pounded into the earth. I leaned forward, wanting to laugh and cry at the same time.

There was no outcry behind us, no one tried to stop me.

Some saw me and waved a hand in acknowledgment, but showed no surprise nor consternation. I plunged headlong between the tents, urging the horse on and on, a rising feeling of excitement in my chest. We pounded through the main gate and out into the field beyond. The guards there seemed only mildly interested, if slightly disapproving of my riding style.

Out the gate and up the rise where the beaten road met the main road that led from the castle gates down into the valley. I pulled the horse to a stop, but it fought me, wanting to run. It danced beneath me, and I wheeled its head about, until at last it was quiet beneath me.

We stood there, the horse blowing and my heart pounding against my ribs.

No one was following, no one was reacting, there was no hue and cry, no chase. I was free. Truly, truly free.

Chapter 11

I laughed, delighted at my freedom, at the sun on my face, at the wind in my hair. The horse danced under me, eager to go. I wheeled it to face the city and the castle. I could go home.

The wind blew my hair into my face, and I used one hand to clear it away. I could go home, back to my old life, as if nothing had happened. Run to the kitchens and Anna’s loving arms and Othur’s grin and pick up the tatters of my life. Rebuild the stillroom, make Xymund see reason, and…

What if Keir was right? What if Xymund had tried to have me killed?

If I returned to the castle, I’d be under his authority. Anna and Othur may love me dearly, but they couldn’t stand between us.

Even more, if I returned to the castle, I returned to the known. The commonplace, daily routine of my life. Yet I’d been ripped up by the roots and the pot had been broken, and I wasn’t sure that I’d fit there ever again. Much less grow.

I hesitated, and wheeled the horse again. It puffed out its breath and stamped at the grass. This time we faced the road that led to the valley. I had skills, and there’d be those that would help me. I could go to the lands that my father left me, and start that school, living out my days teaching and healing. I could even leave for some foreign land. With some supplies and a few coins I could make my way anywhere in this world. Leave Keir and Xymund to weave their pattern and get myself out of this tangle that they called a ‘peace’.

The horse shook its head, jingling its tack, and stamped its feet, as if in disapproval.

If I tried to make my own way, I’d break a promise that my Blood had sworn to the people when Xy had first taken the throne. I might be free of my slavery to the Warlord, but my oaths and my duty still held me to my people. For it seemed to me that for the peace to have any chance, I must be at Keir’s side.

I wheeled it again and turned to look at the camp. I could hear Joden’s voice. “You are free, Lara. The only restraints on you are those of your own choosing.”

My breath caught in my throat. The camp of the Warlord, the camp of the dreaded Firelanders. A people who were a total mystery to me, for I had no idea of what my life would be like among them, or what awaited me at the Heart of the Plains. The camp of a man who was risking everything on the chance of building something better. Stronger. Brighter. For both our peoples.

Returning to the camp and Keir was a risk. A wild unknown, for no one could tell if his plans would survive to the dawn, much less work. And there was no way to predict what would happen to any of us if he failed.

There was another aspect to all of this, grand plans and kingdoms aside. I flushed to think of it. For certain, a Daughter of Xy contemplating her duties and obligations was not supposed to think of the touch of a man’s hand in the night, or how a simple brush of lips on her neck could raise such a heat in her breast. No, a loyal Daughter of Xy should think only of her duties and obligations, as I had when I knelt in the throne room to surrender myself to slavery.

And yet, what I had thought a claiming, had been a seduction.

What I had thought were chains, were tokens.

What I had thought was pride of possession in a certain pair of blue eyes was… the promise of a lifetime? Hope rose in my breast like a sunrise. There was but one way to find out. That was the only certainty I had. If I took either of the other paths, up to the castle, or out to my lands, I’d never know the answers. Or I could take the biggest risk of all, and open my heart and myself to Keir. Of all the possibilities, of all the paths, it was that one that set my blood afire. A future full of risk and dangers, potential and promise. For him. For me. For us.

I laughed and urged the horse on, and once again it sprang forward with a willingness. Down the rise we went, the horse’s hooves churning the soil. We galloped through the gate, without so much as a hail of the guard. I caught a brief glimpse of their expressions as we came back through, and laughed again, certain that they were thinking that I was no rider. I didn’t stop until I pulled the horse up outside my stilltent.

Joden was still standing there, and I could see the joy in his eyes as I slid from the saddle. Epor and Isdra ran to me, joy and relief on their faces.

“Thank the skies,” Epor spoke as I handed the reins to Joden.

“One more question.” I stood straight and looked Joden right in the eye. He grew serious, and nodded for me to continue. “Am I required to bear five children?”

He blinked, confused but then his face cleared. A smile crept back over his broad face. “No.”

“Where is he?” I demanded.

Now Joden’s whole face lit up, and he pointed past the tents to the practice grounds. I smiled, and turned to go.

“Warprize!” Epor stepped in front of me, his hand out, pleading. “Warprize, please let us to go with you. ”

Isdra added her voice. “Warprize, it’s worth our lives to let you—”

I stopped and turned. “And if I say ‘no’?”

Isdra swallowed hard. “We’d obey, Warprize.” Epor, his face gray, nodded his obedience as well. Joden just smiled at me.

“Come then,” I said as I turned and started to run. Joden laughed behind me, but in a thrice they were beside me, pacing me easily. As I neared Keir’s tent, I thought for a minute. I could go back and bathe, find that white shift and be waiting for him barefoot with my hair falling free…

No.

He had waited too long.

I had waited too long.

Not one minute more.

The practice ground was a large dirt circle, with the sod removed. Keir was squared off against two men as we came up. There was quite a crowd, including Simus, who was seated on a stool, making insulting comments, and urging them on. I had no idea what lessons were being taught, I only had eyes for one man.

One tall, blue-eyed, sweaty man.

No one noticed as I moved to the edge. I stopped to catch my breath and watched him flow around the other men, using their movements against them. He was in bright chainmail with the black under-padding. He had on a coif, and was using two wooden swords. The men fighting him were using shields and wooden swords. The dust was thick as they shuffled about, trying to flank Keir, but only tripping over themselves. Keir’s face was a snarl of concentration, completely focused on his opponents. I could watch for hours. I would watch for hours. But right now I had other things on my mind.

“Keir.” I called.

His head swivelled around, homing in on my face at the exact moment one of his opponents was in mid-swing with his wooden sword. It ‘thwacked’ Keir right in the ass. I winced at the sound. The attacker jumped back, horrified as the watchers laughed, Simus loudest of all. Keir ignored them. He looked worried as he walked over to me, tilting his head to the side a little, lowering his weapons. My heart swelled, and I bounced on the balls of my feet.

“Warprize?”

Once he got close, I grabbed his shoulders, pulled myself up and kissed him. Hard. Keir was caught by surprise, and brought his arms up to embrace me, careful of the weapons in his hands. I laughed against his mouth, then gently bit his lower lip. “I want you.” I leaned back to see his face. Stunned, he blinked at me. “Now, my Warlord.” I released him, turned, and started walking for our tent. Epor and Isdra moved with me, but kept their distance.

“Warprize?” Keir called after me.

I looked over my shoulder at him, grinned, and started walking faster.

Simus was shouting his laughter, and I heard Keir curse as he started to follow. The warriors were calling, making encouraging noises, and some catcalls. I laughed and kept walking. I could hear chainmail jingling behind me, catching up. I threw a glance back, only to see that he was gaining on me.

I started to run.

I managed to reach the tent first, barely, darting through the flaps. Epor and Isdra stayed outside. I stood by the bed, turned and waited for him. He was a breath behind, breathing hard, dressed in that chainmail and leather outfit. As he advanced on me, it came to me that I didn’t really know what to do next.

I needn’t have worried. He swept me up and kissed me hard, using his hands to mold me to him. We tumbled onto the bed, Keir falling backwards with me landing on top. The breath left him in a rush, and I pulled back, concerned that I’d hurt him. His expression was so surprised, I started laughing. He looked up into my face, searching for the reason for my actions.

“Mine,” I said, staring into those blue eyes. I leaned down, letting my hair fall around his face. “My Warlord.” He opened his mouth to speak, and I darted down, kissing him, daring to take control. Only the lack of air forced me to pull back, and we both breathed hard for a moment. My hair made a curtain, sheltering his face. He licked his lips, eyes staring up into mine with a sense of wonder and a hint of disbelief.

“Say it.” I bent down, licking his cheek. He tasted of salt and dust. He tasted fantastic. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. I raised my head and smiled down at him.

“Yours?”

My heart swelled in my chest till I thought it would burst. “Mine. My Warlord. My Keir.” I leaned back down, and this time the kiss was a caress, a mutual exploration.

Till my hair got caught in the chainmail links.

Cursing, I let go of his hands to try to get my hair loose. Keir started to snicker at my efforts. He brought his arms around me and started laughing as I struggled with my hair. “My Warprize.” He smiled at me as I worked my hair free. “My Warprize.”

I carefully caught up my rescued hair and held it away from the evil mail links. I leaned down and whispered in his ear. “Take me, my Warlord.”

That wiped the smile right off his face. “Marcus!” he yelled as he rolled, moving me carefully over and onto the bed. Keir reached up to remove the coif from his head.

“Warlord?” Marcus popped in from the back room, surprise evident in his voice.

Keir had tossed the coif to the floor and was working on his belt. “Come help me get this off.” Marcus raised his eyebrow, then turned to look at me, lying on my side on the bed.

I smiled at him.

A smile started to creep over Marcus’s face. “At once, my Warlord.” He helped Keir remove the heavy chain suit and the padding underneath. Finally, Keir stood there in his black leather pants and his black boots. Keir’s eyes drilled into mine. I met his gaze head on, unafraid.

Marcus was picking up the various articles of armor and clothing that had been flung around. Keir never looked at him. “Thank you, Marcus. Leave us now.”

Marcus bowed himself out, a slight smirk on his face. Keir moved toward the privy enclosure. “Let me clean up…”

“No.” I sat up, my knees on the edge of the bed. “Come here.” He moved forward, standing in front of me. I just looked for a minute, staring into blue eyes. Hesitantly, I put my hands at his waistband. He sucked in a breath at my touch, and I froze, uncertain. His hand covered mine and moved it up his stomach to splay over his chest. I surged up a little, wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him with all the passion I had. He returned it with fervor, and gently lowered me onto the bed.

I tried to pull him down, to bring his body closer to mine, but he resisted. He hovered over me with concern in those bright blue eyes. “The first time, Lara, it’s not always good, it can hurt. I can ask an initiator, someone to teach you—”

I drew in all the air I could. “Only you, Keir. No initiators, no teachers.” I lifted my head, moving my lips over his face and chin. “Please.”

His eyes dilated in a breath, but still he paused. As he had before, he placed his hand over my heart. “ This is not your way, Xylara. Your people’s customs—”

I covered his mouth with my fingers. “There’s no Xy here, no Plains. There’s only you, only me.” Concerned, I pulled my hand back. “Unless you do not want—”

He kissed my fingers, then kissed me, removing my hesitation. Gently, he lowered himself to the bed, pulling me close so that we were on our sides, face to face. His other hand rubbed my hip, warming the skin beneath the cloth. His kisses were slow and stirring, and I returned them with a growing hunger. But a passive role no longer satisfied me. I was curious to know more and I placed my hands on his chest, exploring the expanse of skin and hair. To my delight, I discovered that a stroke of my hand burned his body just as his did mine, if his shivers were any guide. The sparse and curly hair was silky beneath my fingertips. The change in his breathing, the look on his face hinted of the power that lurked within me in the future. But for now, my touch was tentative, tracing faint scars and muscles.

Moving deliberately, he brought his hands under my tunic, and pulled it up and over my head. I flushed and closed my eyes when his hands moved to my breast band. He paused, his fingers resting just under the curves of my breasts. “What’s wrong?” he whispered.

“Nothing.” I breathed shallowly, conscious of his touch. “It’s just that I’m not very… ample.”

Warm blue eyes laughed at me as his hands moved under the cloth, and warmth surged over me as he cupped my breasts. “They’re perfect,” he murmured. I arched up, trying to remember to breathe, as he showed me just how perfect they were.

The breast band, our clothes, and the world disappeared. There was only us, and the smoldering desire between us. Every touch brought new discoveries and feelings such as I’d never known before. How could a puff of warm breath over dampened skin produce such sensations? Why did I tingle all over when Keir ran his fingers through my hair to fan it out over the pillows? How could the smallest kiss behind my ear provoke such passion?

I was floating on a sea of pleasure and contentment, melting onto the bed like gold in a fire. Keir raised his head to look at me. “You’re sure, Lara?”

“So very sure.” I smiled at him.

“Good.” He leaned in and kissed me, making a new and urgent demand with his mouth. I responded, recognizing something new in his caress. If I’d been molten gold before, now I was a storm raging through the mountains. I gasped, writhing in my efforts to touch more of him, to feel more, to know more —

I am a healer, wise in the ways of the flesh. How it moves, how it sickens, even how it dies. I knew of the mating process, had heard of the pleasures it affords, thought I knew its effects. None of that prepared me for the reality.

He moved slowly, carefully, driving me mad with the hunger he built in my soul, only to bring me down again to lay in his arms, trembling and achy. I clutched him to me, and begged for more, and he obliged, his soft laughter floating over us as he began again.

Then finally, finally I had him in my arms and in my body and we both froze, staring at one another.

“Lara, are you well?” His breathing was ragged, and I felt his shoulders tremble under my fingers as he held himself above me. “Did I hurt you?”

“Oh, Keir. My Keir.” I relaxed, warmed by his hesitation and shifted slightly, only to see the passion flare in his face. He kissed me even as he began to move, and there was joy and pleasure and transcendent light exploding within me and around us and through the very essence of our bonded souls.

I awakened to find myself tucked under a loving arm, my head on Keir’s chest. With my eyes closed, I took a deep breath and listened to his heart beat. I felt a deep sense of peace, a sense of belonging. I opened my eyes slightly. From the gleam of the braziers, I knew I had not been asleep long.

Keir’s hand was on his chest. I reached over and covered it with mine. His hand was so warm. I pulled it closer. The nails were cut straight across and trimmed close. I turned it over. There were calluses on the palm and fingers, from years of wielding a sword. I ran my fingers over his palm lightly, teas-ingly. The fingers were long and strong. I smiled and kissed the palm. And then traced the kiss with my tongue.

His fingers flexed quickly, then relaxed. I pulled back a little and blew over the damp spot. I was rewarded with a soft, low moan and followed up with a kiss to his wrist.

Keir chuckled and stroked my head with his other hand. “Was there some potion in your tent that turned the shy kitten into the wildcat?” he murmured.

I moved my head so I could look into his sleepy eyes, soft blue under half-closed lids. “I finally worked up the nerve to ask Joden if you had ever sold a warprize before. That’s when he explained the difference. Explained what a warprize is and means. That’s when he told me I was free. That, that you were…” I stopped. Those half-lidded eyes had opened wide, and blazed diamond bright.

“That I what?” I could feel the tension in his muscles and see the tightness of his jaw.

“That you were asking me to be your mate, your consort.” I dropped my eyes and pulled back. Perhaps Joden had been wrong, perhaps I…