Warcry

it?” she asked, holding out her hand.
    “Your Majesty, the news I bring is of events that occurred yesterday. I regret to inform you that Lord Othur, Warden of Xy collapsed while holding a Queen’s Justice.”
    Heath stiffened. His father . . . ill?
    Lara sucked in a breath. “How is he?”
    “He lies in his chambers, Majesty, tended by Master Healer Eln.” Lanfer had a pious look on his face. “The Council fears for his life. Lord Othur has worked night and day in your absence, dealing with the worries and matters of state.”
    Heath’s hand tightened on his sword hilt. The tone, the manner—the bastard was implying that Lara had neglected her duties as Queen. He forced his hand to ease off, even as he worried about his father. His father was not a young man, and he was fond of his wife’s excellent cooking. But to collapse?
    “Is there any sign of treachery?” Keir asked.
    “No,” Lanfer responded. Then he faltered as Lara’s light blue eyes burned into him. “No, Warlord.” Lanfer managed to regain a bit of poise. “He was surrounded by the Guard at the time. The castle throne room was filled with people seeking resolutions to their problems. Lord Othur was in the middle of hearing testimony when he clutched at his chest and fell back into his chair.”
    “Were his lips blue?” Lara asked sharply.
    “Your Majesty, I was not present at the Justice.” Lanfer shook his head, as if deeply grieved that he had failed her. “I am unable to supply any details.”
    That was deliberate on Lanfer’s part, to Heath’s way of thinking. The smug bastard was standing there, talking about Heath’s father without so much as looking at Heath.
    Lara’s face was pale, and she glanced at Heath, then back at Lanfer. Heath’s mother and father were as dear to her as they were to him, but she was refusing to rise to Lanfer’s bait.
    Heath crossed his arms over his chest in grim determination. Who knew that for all their adventures, they would face greater challenges from their friends than from their foes?
    Lara raised her chin imperiously. “I thank you for your message, Lanfer. You may return to the Council with my thanks for their care of me.”
    “Your Majesty,” Lanfer bowed to her. “The Council will wish to know when you will arrive at Water’s Fall.”
    “Tell them that the Warlord and I will arrive at the gates sometime tomorrow.” Lara reached out her hands, and both Keir and Marcus pulled her up off the stool. “Late afternoon, I would expect.”
    “Your Majesty,” Lanfer bowed again and started to back away, clearly heading for his horse.
    “Warprize.” Atira stepped forward, speaking in Xyian. “There is still the matter of the insult to my person.”
    Heath jerked his head around. Atira was standing there, one hand on her hip, the other on the hilt of her sword. Her blond hair gleamed in the sun as she gave Lanfer a considering look. With the brown of her leather armor and the shine of her weapons, she took Heath’s breath away.

    ATIRA ALLOWED HER GAZE TO LINGER AS SHE looked the blond city-dweller over. The man flushed up a bit, but met her look straight on.
    “Your pardon, Lady Atira.” Lanfer bowed his head slightly. “I meant no offense to you.”
    “I think you did.” Atira started around the man, giving him the once-over as if he were a piece of meat.
    Lanfer stiffened, but did nothing else as she walked a circle around him. “Shall I show you my teeth, Lady?”
    Atira gave him a slow smile as the warriors around them chuckled. “I am no Lady, Lanfer of Xy. I am a warrior of the Plains. There is an old saying of my people: ‘You can’t know the taste of the meat until you slay the deer.’ You are pleasing,” she stepped closer to the man. “Perhaps you should come to my tent and see for yourself if I am worth chasing?”
    Lanfer didn’t flinch as she’d half-expected. Instead, he studied her face, and quirked up an eyebrow. “You intrigue me, warrior. Alas, my duties press me to return to Water’s Fall. Perhaps another time?” He pressed his hand to his heart, and inclined his head.
    Atira laughed, and stepped aside to allow him to mount his horse. She watched as the Xyian lord and his escort rode off.
    But to Atira, the look of outrage on Heath’s face was even more satisfying.

    LANFER? SHE WAS FLIRTING WITH THAT POMPOUS, snot-nosed, stuck-up ass?
    The Warlord’s voice cut through Heath’s anger. “That was about what I expected,” Keir said.