I took my time, hoping that Keir might appear. I removed my tunic, combed out my braid, and eased my trous off. As I bent down, it seemed to me that my waist was a bit thicker than I remembered. Of course, Marcus had been feeding me on a regular basis but—

I paused, thinking back. When had I last had my courses?

The last I’d thought of it had been the day when Keir and I had eaten by the lake. I flushed at the memory of our tryst. We’d taken advantage of the sun and the water and the privacy. I’d been due then, and here I was, weeks later, with no sign of them. Admittedly, I’d been sick, which could cause a delay, but still…

Could I be pregnant?

I sat and stared at the tent wall for some time, thinking about it, trying to decide how I felt about the possibility. I

didn’t feel like I was bearing, not that I had any actual experience. But I knew the symptoms as well as any other healer, and I wasn’t feeling anything along those lines. No swelling of the lower limbs, no nausea.

I thought of how Keir had played with little Meara, how the other warriors had treated the babe as gently as any Xyian. The news would bring great joy, but troubles too. The Council of Xy had made demands, conditions on my acceptance of the role of Warprize. I hadn’t talked to Keir about them yet. It wasn’t an issue until I was pregnant and the child was due.

Which was a falsehood on my part. I worried my lip, thinking. How do I tell him what I’d promised? Before I’d seen him with a babe, I’d thought that children meant little to these people. After all, they bore children, they left them to be raised by theas, going off to serve in the army. But then they’d shown that they treasure children much as my people do, maybe even more.

I drew a deep breath in and let it out slowly. I’d tell him when I was with child, not before. Isdra would know, she’d borne before. I could confide in her, but even as I had the thought I knew I wouldn’t. It was too soon, and I had no desire to add to her pain, or worse, give her a false hope. I’d share the news when I was certain, not before.

Time would tell, of course, and I tried to be practical. But for just a moment, as I put my hand over my belly, a vision of a small boy with dark hair and blue eyes, dragging a wooden practice sword, flashed into my mind. He’d look so much like Keir…

In a bemused state, I moved to start my bath.

Of course, I was bending over, rinsing my hair, when I heard someone enter behind me.

“You came too late, my Warlord.” I stood and turned to reach for another bucket of water, a teasing smile on my lips.

It wasn’t Keir.

A man stood there, with wild tangled fur for hair and colored tattoos all over his face and chest. He was glaring at me, holding a long spear, with a human skull tied near the tip.

I shrieked, and heaved the bucket at him.

Chapter 13

The bucket hit his chest and water splashed everywhere, but it didn’t faze the wild man. He raised his spear and shook it at me, snarling and growling like an animal, his unruly hair tossing about his head.

My heart was in my throat, but I wasn’t finished yet. My bag was a step away, and a large jar of boiled skunk cabbage was the first thing my fingers touched. I threw, catching him right on the head. The jar shattered, and the stinking, gooey mess exploded in the man’s face. He roared in pain as it splashed into his eyes.

I darted around him, and ran through the door. My cloak was on the bed, I snatched it up to cover my nakedness, screaming for help. The man was behind me, yelling something that I didn’t pause to hear. I plunged through the meeting room and out the entrance.

Rafe, Prest and Marcus were there, but I only had eyes for Keir, who was running toward us, swords in hand. I ran to meet him, as the crazy man stumbled out of the tent behind me, wiping his eyes and roaring.

Keir placed himself between us, and I took shelter behind him, clutching at the cloak. Everyone was shouting and in an uproar. But Keir’s roar silenced them all. “What is the meaning of this?”

“He came in while I was bathing!” I stayed behind Keir, and wrapped the cloak tight around me. My wet hair was a mess, streaming water down my back, and the ground was cold beneath my bare feet.

“We tried to tell him, Warlord.” Rafe spoke, glaring at the man. “He would not listen.”

Marcus spat on the ground.

There was silence as the wild man stood there, dripping water and stinking of skunk cabbage.

“Why do you violate the privacy of the Warprize, Warrior-Priest?” Keir challenged.

That was a warrior-priest? I peeked out from behind Keir, to stare at the man. He looked no less crazed than he had before. The matted hair was thick, and there was fur braided into it. His tattoos were bright and vivid, colored in green, red, blue, and black. His cloak was a fur of some kind, and his trous looked like it needed a good scrubbing. That skull on the spear did nothing to reassure me.

The man drew himself up, and tried his best to look impressive. Ordinarily, I was sure that it worked, but it is hard to be dignified and awe inspiring when noxious stuff is dripping from your hair. I had to give him credit for trying, though.

“There were no bells, Warlord. A Warrior-Priest of the Plains enters where he wishes, when he wishes.”

Of all the conceited, arrogant… I opened my mouth to reply, but Keir beat me to it. His voice vibrated with anger, but his face was impassive. “The Warprize is of Xy. Xyians do not expose their bodies to others easily. You entered my command tent without invitation, Warrior-priest. That privacy requires no bells. You ignored the guards placed at the entrance.”

The warrior-priest glanced about, but made no response to Keir’s accusation. “We were sent by the Elders from the Heart of the Plains. You failed to appear, as your messages indicated that you would, bearing a warprize.”

I sucked in a breath, but Keir anticipated me. “You traveled with others? Where are they?”

The warrior-priest frowned, taken back by the abrupt change of topic. “They follow. I came ahead.”

Keir turned his head, looking around. “The perimeter guards did not stop you?”

“They tried.” That arrogance was back again. “What means this?”

Keir ignored him. “Prest, you and Rafe, head off the rest of his party. Tell them to keep their distance, and see my orders enforced.”

“Enforced?” The warrior-priest gripped his spear tighter as Rafe and Prest ran off.

“We are isolated from others, by the command of the Warprize.” Keir looked him in the eye. “You risk death entering this camp. As you were told when you crossed within.”

“I see no enemy.”

“Pray that you do not.” Keir turned. “Lara, let me return you to our tent. You are shivering.” He put his arm around me and we started walking toward the tent.

The Warrior-priest gave ground only grudgingly. “I would have a report from you, Warlord.”

“I will provide the report, Warrior-priest.” We both stopped at Iften’s words. He was standing there, Wesren at his side.

“You are Second?” The warrior-priest asked. “Where is Simus of the Hawk?”

“Simus remained behind, upon my order.” Keir growled. “I will see a tent set up for you, and will meet you there to discuss this matter.”

“Your tent—”

“You are not welcome within my tent, Warrior-Priest.”

I shivered at the look in those cold eyes. Keir swept me up into his arms, and Marcus reached over to flick the cloak over my bare feet. I could feel the tension in Keir’s body, taught and tight under my hands.

“You are welcome within mine, Warrior-priest.” Iften raised his right arm. “I would also ask that you cast your healing spells, for my arm has been injured.”

“The only honorable wound I see,” the warrior-priest said.