Warcry

two castle guards outside the door. Atira stretched, trying to loosen the muscles in her back.
    Heath drew closer. “Sore?” he asked softly.
    Atira nodded.
    Heath sighed. “I could get us some more willowbark tea,” he suggested.
    “I’ve a better idea,” Atira said, whispering in his ear. “We need something . . . physical.”
    “Mmmm,” Heath sighed back, his blue eyes hot with want. “Something to warm us. Stretch us. Make us feel . . . good.” His eyes were sparkling now. “What exactly did you have in mind?” he asked, his voice warm and husky.
    “Come with me,” Atira said.

CHAPTER 16
     
    “SPARRING?” DISAPPOINTED, HEATH FOLLOWED Atira into the sunlit courtyard by the baking ovens. “But I was thinking of . . .”
    Atira looked over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow. The sun glinted off her hair as she moved out of the shadowed doorway.
    “Well, you know,” Heath shrugged. “Something a bit more . . . relaxing.”
    “Sharing our bodies?” Atira said. She headed for the practice circle that lay beyond the courtyard. Heath admired the sway of her hips as she walked off. “That is for later. For now, we need to move and sweat.”
    “There is movement in—” Heath stopped as he caught sight of two men, apparently rebuilding the chicken coop. They gave him a respectful nod as he passed.
    “You are good in bed,” Atira said easily, tossing her hair back as she walked past the workmen. “But now, we fight, eh? Sex is for later.”
    One of the workmen banged his hand with his hammer and cursed. The other stared at Atira, stunned.
    Heath figured it was just easier to keep walking.
    Atira was at the rack of practice weapons, checking them for weight and length. “Daggers?” she asked. “Or sword and shield?”
    “Daggers,” Heath said, unstrapping his sword and placing it on a nearby bench.
    He removed his cloak as well. Atira did the same, putting hers near his, but not quite touching. Heath wasn’t sure if he should read something into that or not.
    Atira stepped into the circle, smiling, a wooden dagger in each hand and a teasing smile on her lips. She was a lovely sight, those brown eyes dancing with pure pleasure at the prospect of a fight. Heath turned his back, taking his time to choose his blades, letting her wait. But he could feel her gaze on the back of his neck, and his heart started to beat faster.
    “Slow,” Atira’s voice was just a whisper. “So slow. City-dwellers think too much—”
    Heath spun and charged into the ring.
    Atira let out a whoop of joy, moved back just enough to avoid his lunge, and fended him off with her right dagger. Wood clattered on wood as she met his blade, forced it to the side, and brought the one in her left hand to bear.
    Heath blocked that attack, even as he used the downward motion of his other dagger to slash at Atira’s thigh. But she was moving again, backpedaling around the circle and out of reach.
    Heath didn’t follow. He gave her a grin of his own. “Firelanders. Always retreating.”
    She came at him again, and he scrambled to fend her off.
    Heath lost track of time as they traded blows, broke off to circle each other, then went back at it. His world narrowed to Atira and the fight. The warm sun, the sweet scent of her body, the burn in his muscles, they were all pure pleasure.
    Not as good as sex, but very close.
    Atira broke away, and Heath didn’t try to follow. He paused for a breath, conscious of feeling better than he had in days.
    Atira was also breathing heavily, but she was smiling. “Had enough?”
    “Hells, no.” Heath struck his chest.
    Atira’s eyes narrowed, and she attacked. Heath planted his weight on his forward foot, braced and ready, but then realized his mistake. A rigid stance cut off his options. As Atira closed, he slashed at her face, forcing her to use one dagger to block instead of attack. He spun away, barely avoiding her strike.
    “Oh, that’s gallant,” came a dry, male voice.
    Heath knew better than to look away; Atira wasn’t going to stop because of a comment. Besides, he knew full well who was standing there. Lanfer was probably spoiling for a fight, and Heath was not going to oblige him.
    But to his surprise, Atira backed off and looked over at the edge of the circle with a considering look. “More insults, Lord Lanfer?”
    “Sun God forfend. I was merely making an observation, Lady.” Lanfer stood tall, his arms crossed over his chest. His blond hair shone almost white in