“Xymund didn’t sell me.” I explained what I had learned.

Warren grunted in surprise. “A consort? That bodes well.”

I pulled my cloak tighter around me. “He shouldn’t have killed him.”

I felt Warren shake his head. “No, Lara. Keir was right to act. Xymund was mad. I’d known that he was a coward, and an indecisive leader. But his actions made it clear that something wasn’t right.”

“The lords and the council may not—”

“The Warlord is an honorable man.” Warren’s voice was firm. “All will be well, Daughter of Xy.”

I didn’t answer him. Instead, I focused on the group of horsemen ahead of us. I caught a glimpse of a cloaked figure riding near Keir. I also saw Simus and Joden next to Keir, and some kind of discussion was going on, one that didn’t please Joden or Simus. All I could do was watch as we approached to the castle, my hands sweating and my heart in my throat.

In the courtyard, we dismounted, in a confusion of people and horses. Keir appeared with Othur. “ Warren, take her to the antechamber.” He turned and moved off before I could even open my mouth.

Warren hustled me into the castle, where we bumped into Heath, looking worse for wear with a cut on his forehead. “Heath!”

Heath turned, smiling to see me, and moved past the guards to catch me up in a hug. “Thank all the gods. I’d thought for sure that the Warlord wouldn’t be in time.” Heath grimaced. “Xymund caught sight of me as we rescued the hostages and started screaming. He slipped past us in the confusion. The King’s insane, Lara, I swear to you, he’s—”

“He’s dead.” Warren spoke from behind us.

“Dead?” Heath sucked in a breath. “By whose hand?”

Warren took my shoulders firmly. “Join your parents, Heath. They’re headed to the throne room.” Without ceremony, he moved me on, down the hall and into the antechamber.

With an odd feeling of having done all of this before, I waited before the fire in the antechamber, anxious for news, wondering what Keir was going to do. Warren waited with me, having placed his men at each door. Finally, Keir swept in, alone. “The people are assembled, and we are ready. Warren, take your place in the throne room.” Warren bowed, and left with his men. Keir moved closer to me, reaching out and taking me in his arms. He buried his head in my hair, and crushed me to his chest.

“What are you going to do?” I asked softly.

“What’s best. What’s necessary.” He nuzzled me behind my ear, and I shivered at the touch. He drew a deep breath, and then Keir pulled back, brushing my hair back with one hand. I stiffened when a horn sounded in the throne room. Keir stepped back without looking at me, took another deep breath, and headed for the double doors, throwing them open.

The Herald, standing there in full uniform, pounded the floor with his staff three times. “Lords and Ladies, all hail Keir, Warlord of the Plains and Overlord of Xy, and Xylara, Warprize, Daughter of Xy.”

Keir paused and held out his hand to me in an oddly formal gesture. I placed my hand over his, and we entered the throne room side by side. The white marble of the throne room gleamed in the light of the torches that ringed it. The lords of the court, and the craftmasters of the city filled the room, as did an even larger number of the Warlord’s men. Simus and Joden stood by the thrones. Someone had placed a tall brazier near to the throne, and a fire burned there, the flames dancing on the wood.

Not one to keep a formal pace, Keir strode us across the floor quickly, then settled in the throne with an easy grace.

As I sat, I noticed the wide-eyed, frightened looks of men and women pulled from their homes and beds. None of which eased as Keir rose to speak. “There has been violence done this night, an attack on the Warprize, Xylara, Daughter of Xy.” Keir continued to speak over the reaction of the crowd. “She was attacked by Xymund, her half-brother.” With a gesture of his hand, he summoned Epor and Isdra. They emerged from the antechamber, bearing the shrouded body, only to dump it before Keir. Epor knelt, and cut the shroud away, displaying the body.

The edges of the crowd drew back, voices raised in outrage and horror. I swallowed hard a few times, fighting back nausea. Keir let the assembly vent for a moment, then held his hand up for silence. “You have been gathered to hear our tales. Judge not, until all has been told. Each shall speak, and swear binding oaths as to the truth of their words.” Keir’s gaze moved over the group, and I somehow knew he was reading hearts as well as faces. “It is the custom of my people that oaths are sworn under the open sky. But an oath to the flame is just as binding.” He gestured to the brazier where the flames leaped, then returned to the throne. “I’ll be the first to speak.” With that, he wasted no time, summarizing the events of the last few days, starting with the assault in the healing tent. The silence deepened as he was brutally honest about the death of Xymund at his hand.

When Keir finished, Warren stepped forward and told his version. Othur spoke as well, holding a trembling Anna by his side. Heath spoke of Xymund’s commands, and the actions he had taken. Simus stepped forward and told of what he had witnessed.

When Marcus stepped forward, my heart almost broke. The small, scarred man, so bold and outspoken in Keir’s tent, was clearly uncomfortable. But he stood there, his one eye focused on Keir and spoke with Simus interpreting. There was a tinge of hysterical mirth in the crowd when Marcus gave his honest opinion of Xymund’s fighting abilities. At the end, he gave his oath, as the others had done before him.

Finally, Keir turned to me. “Xylara.”

My mind blanked as I stared at him. I took a deep breath, and started where he had, at Arneath’s attack. As I spoke, I scanned the faces in front of me, seeing an odd mixture of sympathy, trust, and suspicion. My voice stayed calm as I kept my facts in order, trying to remove the emotion from my voice and words. That broke down when I reached the part of Xymund’s arrival, and his words to me in the end. I had to look down at that point, focus on my hands, and struggled to complete the tale. Keir’s hand moved into my vision and covered mine, giving me strength. I didn’t look up, managing to stumble though the last of it, including the oath. There was silence at the end.

Keir withdrew his hand and stood. “Are there any who challenge the truth of these words?”

No one spoke.

“Are there any who challenge my authority to deal with Xymund as I saw fit?”

No one raised their voice.

“This matter is finished.”

While the faces in the crowd were still a mixture of doubts, fears, and mistrust, I relaxed slightly, resting against the back of the throne, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease. With no voices raised, I was sure that all would be well.

Keir turned his head, gesturing to Epor and Isdra. “Remove this.” Keir focused on the Archbishop Drizen. “Please see to it that the body is given the rites of his faith, with no further ceremony.”

“Please,” I cleared my throat. “Please have him interred with the royal family, Warlord.”

Keir frowned. “He would have killed you.”

“His mind was not his own at the end. Please let him lay next to his mother.”

Keir gave an abrupt nod. “See to it.”

The Archbishop inclined his head.

The crowd was growing restless. Keir gestured to the Herald, who tapped his staff three times in a call for silence. Still, Keir had to raise his voice to be heard. “Would the King’s Council step forward?”

The council stepped forward, led by Archbishop Drizen and Lord Marshall Warren.

Keir nodded to each. “We must now consider who will rule the Kingdom of Xy.”

My stomach knotted.

“It is right that Xylara, Daughter of the House of Xy take the throne,” Keir raised his voice, insuring that he would be heard. “I hereby release my claim of the Warprize and return her to her people.”