A hand stroked my warm cheek. I lifted my head and blinked sleepily into his eyes. Keir rolled me over and kissed me. “When you look like that, all drowsy and sweet it’s all I can do not to…”

“None of that, now.” Marcus came back into the room, with more warm water. He went into the privy area.

Keir sighed deeply, then kissed me again. He pulled his head back, just as I started to return the kiss with a rising passion. “None of that, now,” he whispered. I smiled at him. He sighed again, and levered himself up and off the bed. “I’d best go first.” He looked down at my face as an idea crossed my mind. He glared. “Alone.”

I threw him a disgusted look.

Marcus left, and Keir went to clean up. I lay there for a moment, basking in the remaining warmth. Then I arched my back, preparing to stretch… and stopped.

Oooo. That hurt.

I must have made a noise, because Keir was next to me in an instant, a towel wrapped around his waist. Water droplets clung to his arms and chest.

“Are you all right?”

I blinked and just admired him. He looked down at me, slowly smiled, and repeated his question. “I’m fine.” I smiled at him. Marcus came into the room, and I flushed slightly, adjusting the blanket a bit higher. “My arm’s a little sore, that’s all.”

Keir frowned, then understanding came into his eyes. “Perhaps you should stay in bed today.”

I tilted my head and smiled wider. “Only if you stay with me.” His eyes flared, and I seemed to see some movement underneath the towel. My smile expanded.

He mock growled and stalked off toward the privy. “Marcus! Send a runner for Gils. I want him to look at her arm.” With that, his high and mightiness entered the privy and dropped the flap behind him.

Marcus looked over at me, concerned. “Is it the arm that’s hurting?”

I busied myself with the placement of the furs. “No.”

Marcus smiled. “Ah.” He left, whistling tunelessly as he did so.

After I bathed, Marcus stood over me as Gils changed the bandage and administered fever’s foe. The wound was very sore, but looked well. Marcus grunted when Gils was done and whisked him out of the tent. He’d not be allowed to serve this time.

I could hear the men gathering in the main area and tried to concentrate on putting my hair up and out of my way. Keir came up behind me and captured my hands. “Leave it down. Please?” He ran his fingers through the half-formed bun and shook it out. I sighed as he pulled me up and over to the flap.

Marcus played herald for us, bearing Keir’s token, and the men rose as we made our way to our seats. Trays of food were brought out and pitchers of kavage were quickly passed around. I dug in, hungry. Keir sparked conversation, asking about the status of men, gear and supplies.

I listened as I ate, noting that Keir seemed very satisfied with the responses. Simus was also asking questions and listening, but while both men seemed to concentrate on the talk, and the food, I knew their attention was also on Iften, sitting off to the far side, nursing some kavage. Iften made no move to join the conversation, but also drew no attention to himself.

Marcus went out for a moment to speak with the guards, then returned. When he had caught Keir’s eye, he spoke. “A messenger from the castle.”

Keir nodded. “I was hoping to hear from Warren. Bring the messenger in.”

The flap parted, and a figure walked in. With the light behind him, I could not make out his face until he drew nearer. It was Heath. My face split into a delighted smile. “Heath.” I stood and went over to him, wrapping him in an enthusiastic hug. He returned it with gusto, then pulled back. As always, his hand came up to cup my neck and he pulled his forehead to mine.

“Lara. Are you well?” His whisper was fierce and hard, a contrast to his smiling face.

I nodded, still resting my forehead on his. “Well, very, very well.” I lifted my head and smiled at him. “ Come, sit with me. Eat.”

He shook his head, speaking in a low voice. “No. I’ve a message to deliver and I don’t know how it will be received. Go. Return to your seat.”

I frowned. “Something’s wrong.” It was there in his eyes.

Heath released me and gave me a slight push. I returned to my seat, casting a glance at Keir, who had a concerned look on his face.

Heath advanced another step, and then sank to one knee, bowing before Keir.

“Welcome.” Keir indicated that Heath could rise, but Heath did not do so. Keir continued, “Do you bring word from Lord Warren?”

“Warlord, I was sent by Xymund, the King.”

Keir gestured for him to continue.

“Warlord, the message I was given was of treachery. Of an attack upon Xymund by Lord Warren as he rode through the city.” Keir sat up straight as Heath took a deep breath. “They are not true words, but I will repeat them if you so desire.”

Keir and Simus tensed. The men about me stopped their idle talk and stilled, conscious of a new tension.

Heath continued. “Warlord, my true mission was to kill…” His voice faltered. “… the King told me that upon entrance to the tent he was sure that Lara would approach me and greet me as she is like to do. Upon her approach, I was to strike and kill her.”

Keir was feral still, his voice deep and soft and full of menace. “How so? I see no weapon.”

“Like so, Warlord.” Heath extended his arm, twisted his wrist. A blade the length of a child’s hand sprang forth from under his sleeve. It gleamed, sharp and deadly in the light.

The reaction was immediate. The men around me jumped up, some forming a barrier in front of me, the others pulling their weapons and pointing them at Heath. I stood, fearful for his life, but Keir stopped all movement with a gesture of his hand.

“Yet the Warprize is safe, and you are on your knees before me.”

Heath nodded and swallowed. With quick movements, he removed the hidden blade from his arm as he spoke, “Xymund swore fealty to you, Warlord, and my oath to Xymund then flows through to you. I would not have this stain on my soul. Lara is as a sister to me, and I could not…” His voice cracked under the strain. He threw the mechanism at Keir’s feet and sat back on his heels, slumped in sorrow. “ Xymund holds my parents as guarantee that I would perform this action. He will kill them if my mission fails.”

“Anna and Othur,” I looked at Keir, my heart in my throat.

“I fear that he has been touched by the Goddess,” Heath continued. “I have no other explanation.”

“What does that mean?” Keir looked at me.

“Insane. Mad.” My hand rose to my lips. “Heath, he can’t be—”

“Lara, he changed the day he swore fealty to the Warlord. After you left, he raved for hours.” Heath wiped sweat off his forehead with the heel of his hand. “I swear the defeat did something to him.”

“Sit. Sit,” Simus spoke, gesturing for everyone to return to their seats. Keir nodded, and everyone sat down. I took a step toward Heath, but a quick glance at Keir showed that it would not be a good idea. Undecided, I hesitated. Keir’s jaw was tight, his eyes hard on Heath. I moved to stand behind my Warlord, resting my hand on his shoulder. At my touch, some of the tension left him.

Simus broke the silence. “So the serpent shows his fangs.”

Keir nodded. “If his wits have been taken by the winds, how stands the castle? The city walls?”

“Xymund had me escorted to the rise that overlooks your camp. Two watchers remain there, waiting. They will return to Xymund with word of what occurs within your camp.” Heath raised his head to meet Keir’s eyes. “I believe that once my father and Warren are freed—”

“Warren is held?” Simus leaned forward to ask.

Heath nodded. “He was imprisoned after the Warlord came to the castle.”

“What of the city?” Keir asked again, drawing Heath back to the.subject.

“Warlord, if Othur and Warren are freed, I believe that the army and the palace guards will listen to them. Xymund is the ordained King, but evidence of his madness grows by the hour.”