Warcry

the giggling kitchen maids and into the castle.
    Atira watched him go, letting her smile fade. So Lanfer was behind that attack in the dark hall. She turned to tell Heath, only to find him glaring at her, his arms crossed over his chest.
    “What?” she asked innocently as she retrieved the gear that Lanfer had dropped.
    His glare deepened. “You know damn well what the custom is.”
    Skies above, it was fun to tease him. She ignored him, moving over to the racks to put the swords and shields away. “Oh, but there are so many customs to remember. How to greet a person, when to take offense.” She glanced over at the roof of the baking ovens. “Which way is down? How is a poor Firelander to remember it all?”
    “With your excellent Firelander memory, that’s how,” Heath growled. He tossed the wooden daggers into the basket and picked up his own sword. “Come on.”
    Atira gathered up her sword and dagger as Heath stomped over to the well. She could see buckets and towels set out for anyone’s use. A wash would feel lovely.
    So would teasing her Heath.
    Heath dropped his sword on a nearby bench and threw the bucket into the well. He leaned on the wall, his leathers tightening over his ass. Atira gave them an admiring look as she set her weapons down as well. “You needn’t get so angry.”
    “You needn’t feel up Lanfer’s ass, either,” Heath snarled.
    “Well, it is a nice one.” Atira tried hard to keep her laughter out of her voice. “Firm and taut.” She moved next to him and leaned against the stone wall of the well. “And well bandaged.”
    Heath jerked up and looked at her sharply. “You’re sure?”
    “Oh yes.” Atira nodded. “Very sure.”
    Heath said nothing, just reached for the rope and started to pull up the bucket. But Atira suppressed a smile at the relief in his face.
    “I don’t suppose I could strip to the waist,” Atira said wistfully as he brought the bucket over the side.
    “Now, now,” Heath said as he started to do just that. “Women’s breasts are not bared in Xyian society.”
    “And that is somehow fair?” Atira grumbled. “My chest and your chest are no different.”
    “Yes, they are.” Heath knelt by the bucket and started to splash himself with the water. “And I thank all the gods that they are so very, very different.”
    Atira laughed. “Fool. That’s not what I meant.” She reached for a towel and handed it to him.
    “I know,” Heath said, toweling off.
    Atira dipped her hands in the cold water and splashed her face.
    “Later, after the dinner, I’ll show you the hot springs under the castle,” Heath said quietly. “There’s pools for bathing and soaking down there.”
    “Together?” Atira asked, toweling herself dry.
    “No,” Heath gave her a grin. “Separate.”
    “Joy,” Atira grumbled. She picked up her sword, belted it on, and watched as Heath did the same.
    “Heath, lad.” Detros hailed them from over by the ring, standing with a group of guards. “Are ya done, then?”
    “It’s all yours, Detros.”
    Detros gave him a wave and turned to the others. “All right then, lads, let’s be about it.”
    The guards started picking wooden weapons as Detros issued instructions.
    Heath took care of the bucket as Atira hung the towel close by. “Feeling better?” Atira asked.
    Heath sighed. “Aye to that.”
    “We need to talk,” Atira said.
    “We can sit here in the sun and talk here well enough. In your language, I think,” Heath suggested. “I’ll fetch something to eat.” He turned, headed toward the kitchen.
    “And something cold to drink,” Atira called after him. She settled on the bench, leaned back against the cool stone wall, and watched as Heath walked over to Detros and spoke to the man for a moment. After a few words, Heath clapped him on the back and headed for the kitchens.
    Detros called one of the guards over and sent him on an errand before he went back to directing the sparring. The old warrior with his paunch stopped his men in mid-stroke and pointed out their mistakes. Atira couldn’t make out everything he said, but his men listened, even those waiting their turns.
    Detros backed off and barked a command, and the guards went at it again.
    Heath reappeared with a kitchen maid at his side. He was carrying a pitcher of cooled herb tea and two mugs; the maid had a tray.
    She placed it on the bench. “You need more, you call me, eh? Best to stay out of the kitchens for now. Your ma, she’s all