Warcry

looked over at her. He could see the glitter of her eyes in the firelight. “Yes,” he said softly. “I think so. But Lara has the right of it. The child will need him.”
    “The theas would raise the child and raise it well,” Atira protested. “Your parents would aid them.”
    “That’s true,” Heath said. “But Xyians believe that a child should be raised by its parents. We also believe that life is a gift of the Sun God, and it is not our place to decide if it should end. That lies in the hands of the Sun God, and our duty is to live, to bear our burdens and sorrows, for as long as we draw breath.”
    “But to force him to remain . . . to not permit him to follow her to the snows.” Atira’s voice was filled with pain. “So hard . . .”
    “If he’s willing to die for her,” Heath pointed out, “why shouldn’t he be willing to make the greater sacrifice to live for the child? A child of two worlds. And if that child is to take the throne of Xy, then it must be raised here.” Heath stared up at the dark ceiling. “But nothing is going to happen to Lara.”
    “True enough,” Atira agreed. “She has good hips for bearing. She should have no problem.”
    Heath snorted a laugh. “Don’t let her hear that without a token.”
    “Why not?”
    Heath chuckled again. “It’s not exactly a compliment to Xyian ears.”
    He shifted under the covers, trying to get comfortable, and almost missed her next words. “Those of the Plains would understand and accept the truth of it. Xyians are fools.”
    Heath shifted again, punching up his pillow in an effort to make it lie right. But he paused in his efforts to growl at her. “Well, if we’re so stupid, how come I was the only guy who had an axe?”

CHAPTER 14
     
    ATIRA WATCHED AS HEATH FIDGETED IN THE depths of his bed. “What did you say?”
    “You heard me,” Heath growled. “The only reason Marcus sent me into the forest to gather wood is that I was the only warrior with an axe.”
    “We have axes—” Atira protested, but Heath cut her off.
    “Only ones that you’ve stolen.” Heath’s voice was sharp, ringing against the stone walls. “Everything you have, with the exception of gurt and gurtle fur, is stolen. Looted.”
    “We raid—”
    “Exactly,” Heath snapped. “You raid, loot, steal—”
    “Steal?” Atira sat straight up. “We do not—”
    “Steal,” Heath raised himself on his elbows. “It’s a hard truth, but it is the truth, and I probably should ask for your token.”
    She glared at him.
    Heath’s eyes dropped to her breasts, and she watched as he turned his head toward the fire and swallowed hard. She felt a rush of pleasure that she affected him that way, even as her anger at his words rose.
    “The point is that you make nothing,” he growled. “And gurt and gurtle pads don’t count. The people of the Plains destroy, they don’t create.” Heath rolled onto his side. “I suspect that is part of the change Keir wants to bring to your people.” He glanced over at her. “All I am saying is that the ways of Xy aren’t evil or stupid. You know better than that.”
    Atira felt some of her anger fade, but she wasn’t quite ready to concede the battle. “As you say,” was all she said.
    The silence fell between them, and all that she could hear was the crackle of the flames and Heath shifting in his bed. The air was laced with the smell of burning wood and old spices. Atira tried to relax into the comfort of her bedroll, but sleep eluded her. Maybe because she was trying hard to ignore the truth of Heath’s statements.
    And the Warprize’s request of the Warlord still bothered her. That a bonded couple would plan and commit to each other even beyond the snows . . .
    She’d never had an interest in bonding. Never saw any benefit to it, truth be told. Why imprison yourself with promises to any one person?
    Heath and his demands of bonding . . . bonding was for special people. There was nothing extraordinary about her or Heath. His demands were foolish.
    She sighed as she remembered the look on Lara’s face and on Keir’s. They shared something that stirred her. That made wanting more seem almost . . . possible. Was it?
    “Enough of this.” Heath’s voice cut through her thoughts, startling her. He sat up in bed and threw back his blankets. “Lara is right. I can’t get comfortable.”
    Atira blinked as he stood and stalked close to stand over her. Those thin trous left nothing much to wonder