Warcry

his hands together over his massive chest, clasping the hilt of the Sword of Xy. A flag with the ancient Xyian crest lay over his chest and legs. The airion’s expression was fierce, its talons sharp, as if to protect the sleeper.
    For a heartbeat, Heath waited for his father to look over, throw back the cloth, and rise up laughing.
    But no. His father’s face was still and silent. He’d never hear his laugh again.
    His mother was seated by his father’s head, on a bench set close by. She was stroking the cloth, smoothing it out, speaking softly. She was dressed in a very plain black dress, a black shawl next to her on the bench.
    “I knew this day would come, as it must come to us all,” she said, turning toward Heath. “But I’d thought to have a few more years. We go day to day, thinking each sunrise will bring more of the same. Until it doesn’t. But this . . . it should not be. Not here. Not now.”
    “It shouldn’t have happened at all,” Heath said, fighting back his emotions. “I should have stopped—”
    “Heath,” his mother chided him. She lifted her shawl to her lap. “Come sit.”
    Heath went to her, and she took his hand. “You couldn’t have stopped your father from offering peace to Durst. You know that.”
    “Mama.” Heath rejected her words. “I could have lunged—”
    “Struck the first blow?” Anna gave him a sad look. “No, my son. Othur died as he would have wished, serving the House of Xy with his last breath. Be at peace.”
    The tears that Heath had managed to suppress came forth, running down his cheek.
    “He loved my cakes, you know,” Anna said softly, putting her arm around Heath’s shoulders. “When he first came to serve Xylara’s father, he would sneak down into the kitchens and tease me for sweets. It’s how we met.”
    Heath laughed weakly, wiping his face with his free hand. “I didn’t know that.”
    Anna sighed. “My mother didn’t approve. She thought he wasn’t any good. Just a noble who pushed documents, not a craftmaster . . . no real skills. The second son of a second son; no more than a clerk, really.” Anna looked at Othur. “She could be so hateful sometimes, my mother. Making nasty, snide comments, even after we’d been married. Othur . . . he’d just laugh and say that she couldn’t forgive that he’d gotten the best of the bargain by winning my hand.”
    Anna sighed and then shifted on the bench to fully face Heath. “My son, I am so sorry. I should have opened my arms and heart to the one you loved. Not rejected her without giving her a chance.”
    “Oh, Mama.” Heath shook his head. “I—”
    “No.” Anna shook her head. “I need to tell you . . . I need you to know this before we speak of other things. You and Atira have my . . . our . . . blessings. I’ll be honest enough to say that I’d wish for a traditional ceremony, but . . . you are my beloved son. You have a right to live your life and make your decisions as you wish. And whatever you decide, I will support you.”
    “Decide?” Heath asked.
    “Lara needs a seneschal,” Anna said quietly. “And I’ve reason to think she’ll ask you to take on the task. There’s no one else with the training, the knowledge of the castle and the lords. Worse, I fear, there is no one else she and Keir trust to hold the position.”
    A weight settled on Heath’s shoulders. “I—”
    Anna shook her head. “My son, I won’t deny I want you here. But I want you wholly here, in mind and heart.” She bit her lip. “If your heart is in the Plains, it would be better for you to go. Do you understand?”
    Heath couldn’t speak. He just nodded and rubbed her hand.
    Anna sighed and settled back. “The ceremony will take place tomorrow morning. There’ll be a procession to the church, then back. Lara asked to inter him with the kings in the vaults, and I agreed. It’s fitting that he rest there. And there will be room for my bones when the time comes.”
    She caught her breath and squeezed Heath’s hand. “The Firelanders have a saying: ‘To go to the snows.’”
    Heath stiffened.
    “How easy it would be to die,” Anna whispered. “Not to have to live without him.”
    “Mama,” Heath started, but his mother cut him off.
    “No, child, have no fear. That is not the way I was taught. I’ll bear my griefs and do my duty, as the Goddess requires.” She eased her hand from Heath’s. “But for now, I think I will stay with him for a while.”
    “I can stay for a