I sighed, and let my shoulders slump. “But I can’t do anything!”

“Pah.” Marcus turned, and picked up the wooden sword and small shield that I had been using. “What did you do when that warrior-priest burst into your tent?”

I went and sat close to Prest, flopping down in the grass. “I screamed and ran.”

“And?” Marcus asked as he seated himself. Rafe dropped down next to him, and pulled out a dagger and a sharpening stone. Ander and Yveni remained standing, on watch, standing close enough to hear.

“Hid behind Keir.” I picked a stem of grass and started playing with it. “Bold warrior that I am.”

Marcus snorted. “You, with your terrible memory. You have forgotten.”

I looked up to see that Rafe and Prest were both grinning, as if at the memory. “What?”

Rafe answered promptly. “You threw that pot of muck at him. He was covered with it when he came out of the tent.”

“Wish I’d seen that,” Ander spoke, his eyes still on the horizon.

“Heyla to that,” Yveni added.

Prest chuckled. “The stink clung for days.” He reached over and pulled his warclub close, preparing to re-wrap the handle with the leather strips. Of course, it wasn’t just any warclub. I looked away from the weapon. It brought back too many painful memories.

“So,” Marcus continued. “What did you do? You alerted others that you were in trouble. You used what was at hand to distract the enemy. You fled to where there was help, and positioned yourself where your defenders could protect you.”

I had forgotten. I’d whipped that jar of boiled skunk cabbage right at that warrior-priest’s face before I’d fled. I sat up a little straighter. “I guess I did.”

Marcus gave me a nod. “Teaching you to fight is enough to make a gurttle laugh. But teaching you to defend yourself, to respond under attack and get yourself to safety, that can be done.”

I shook my head. “Marcus, I froze when I found Iften hovering over Keir with that dagger. I didn’t have the sense to scream.”

“Fear.” Prest spoke as he concentrated on his task.

Rafe nodded, even as he honed the edge of his blade. “Fear holds you still when you need to move, and moves you when you need to be still.”

“Fear makes you silent when you need to be loud and loud when you need silence,” Ander said, almost reciting. I wasn’t surprised; Prest had taunted Iften with a teaching rhyme back at Wellspring. It seemed they used them a lot for teaching purposes. Which also didn’t surprise me—since they had no written language, everything was memorized, and their ability to do that was amazing.

“Fear closes your throat, makes it hard to breathe. Fear weakens your hand and blinds your eyes.” Marcus took up the chant. “Fear is a danger. Know your fear. Face your fear.”

I waited a breath, but when it was clear they were done I broke the silence. “But how do I do that?”

Prest turned his head, and smiled at me, his white teeth flashing against his dark skin. “Practice.”

I should have kept silent. This warrior-princess routine was uncomfortable, sweaty, and exhausting.

We had been waiting to join the army at the very rear of the march. Keir had that little-boy smile on his face when he’d told me that I’d be moving to the rear of his forces. I was fairly sure that he wanted to make sure that he gave me my first glimpse of the Plains.

Since we were waiting anyway, I’d asked my guards to teach me to use a sword and shield. I’d thought it would be easy; after all they handled their weapons with grace and skill.

Easy to say; hard to do.

We spent the rest of the afternoon as the army passed practicing. Each of my bodyguards would play the attacker, and then I had to work with the others to protect myself. Marcus stood back and watched. When it looked like I knew how to handle the situation, Marcus called out for Prest to die, and Prest obligingly fell ‘dead’ at my feet.

So I learned to move with my protectors, trying to stay out of their way, and be constantly aware of the threat I was under. Marcus was a strong believer in action as opposed to talking. When I got too tired, we’d stop and talk for a bit, get a drink of water, so that I could catch my breath.

The others never even broke a sweat.

Finally, as the sun was setting, Marcus ‘killed’ all my body guards, and I was facing my ‘attacker’ alone. Prest grinned at me as he lay dead at my feet. I looked over at Marcus, who stood there with two daggers, threatening me. “Now what?”

He tilted his head under that cloak, and glared at me. “What can you do?”

“I don’t know!” Frustrated, I glared back at him.

Ander had managed to ‘die’ face down, and looked like he was taking a nap. “Look for a weakness,” he whispered to me.

Weakness? Marcus had already proved he was deadly with those daggers, so what weakness did he have?

Marcus rolled his one eye at me.

Oh.

I darted over to his left, trying to get into his blind spot. But Marcus just pivoted to face me, keeping me in sight. I stopped, frustrated. “What good does that do?”

“Keeps him moving, keeps him from throwing his daggers,” Yveni responded. She was laying on the ground, chewing a piece of grass, watching the perimeter. Rafe was seated a distance away, watching in the other direction.

“You could try rushing him, getting him to move away from you. Use our bodies to try to trip him up,” Ander offered.

“Throw things,” Prest added. I looked at my satchel on my hip, and nodded.

“You must take advantage of any weakness.” Marcus gestured at his face. “Mine is my blind side, Warprize. If you can blind a person with one of your mixtures, do it. It may be all that stands between you and death. Yes?”

“I will, Marcus.”

“More important, if all your guards are down, where else can you look for help?” Marcus growled.

I eyed him nervously. I still remembered the ‘lesson’ he’d given me before, when he’d overborne me to the ground, and held a dagger to my throat. “The army?”

Marcus snorted.

Rafe caught my eye and jerked his thumb in the direction of our horses.

“The horses?” I looked over where our mounts were standing, waiting patiently. They were grazing, except of course for my Greatheart. He was fast asleep, his one hip cocked to the side, his head hanging down. As usual.

“The horses.” Marcus sheathed his daggers within the darkness of his cloak as the others stood, brushing themselves off. “Get to a horse, leap to its back, and it will take you out of danger.”

“If she could ride.” Prest said calmly.

I glared at him, but they were all smiling. It was an old joke now, but in their eyes, it was true. I wasn’t born in a saddle, like the people of the Plains, and to them my riding skills were horrible. But I could ride. Leaping into a saddle, however…

“But that lesson can wait,” Marcus announced. “Hisself will be making camp soon, and the meal will not make itself.” He headed toward the horses.

Thankful for the reprieve, I followed with my guards.

Since we’d resumed our march to the Plains, Keir had made some changes to my sleeping arrangements. My tent was a bit bigger now, enough that I could stand upright in it. He’d arranged extra padding for my bedding. It was saddle blankets folded and piled high, which made a very comfortable mattress. They were made from some kind of wool that I didn’t recognize, but knew from its use in camp. But the biggest change, and the best change, was that I slept within his arms every night.

When we’d left Water’s Fall, Keir had continued his practice of moving up and down the length of his army, in sight of his warriors and dealing with their morale. He’d left me in the center, where he’d thought I’d be better protected. But that had meant many nights of separation.

But now, with the events of Wellspring behind us, I traveled with him. Neither one of us wanted to be apart for any length of time. He continued to work with his warriors, of course, disappearing during the day to deal with any problems that arose. But every night he returned to our bed. To my arms. To me.