Warcry

Anna declared. “You can rest up as we prepare for the wedding. The babe will wait.”
    “The babe wouldn’t dare emerge to face her,” Othur whispered to Heath.
    Heath nodded.
    “That’s settled then.” Anna lifted her head and gave them all a glare. “Since Keir is to ask his question at the dinner, we had best be about it. Marcsi and the others can serve without me. But we must dress, quickly!”
    “Atira, Amyu, Yveni.” Lara reached for Keir’s hand. “It’s tradition that the couple be escorted to the ceremony by female friends and family. Will you escort me?”
    Amyu looked at the others, startled to be included. “We’d be honored, Warprize,” Atira said, speaking for all of them.
    “Ander, Rafe,” Keir spoke up. “Prest, Heath, Marcus. Will you escort me?”
    Rafe laughed out loud. “Simus and Joden will dance in anger when they hear that they missed this! Yes, Warlord.”
    Prest and Ander both nodded as well, but Marcus shook his head. “No, Warlord.”
    “Marcus,” Lara said. “We owe you so much. Please.”
    The scarred man focused his one eye on Lara, and Othur watched that harsh face soften. “I will watch, but no more. I would not offend our elements, or your gods, in any way.”
    “The Sun God takes no offense in battle scars,” Iain said quietly.
    “I will not risk it.” Marcus glared at the boy, even as Lara gave him a grateful glance. “Besides, there’s more than enough warm bodies for a ceremony.” He had to turn his head to see Keir. “Let me serve in the shadows, as I have for many a year now.”
    “Enough talk!” Anna scolded. “Dinner!”

    JUST AS THEY WERE LEAVING, HEATH RAISED AN eyebrow at Atira and nodded toward Iain.
    Atira knew that look well. Heath had used it time and again when they’d hunted together—when he wanted her to move up and flank their prey.
    Heath went out the door with the young man, but Atira waited just a step so as to be behind them.
    “So . . .” Heath fell into step with Iain. “You could perform the marriage ceremony?”
    “Of course,” Iain responded. “I am a full priest, in service to the castle. Of course, it would be presumptuous of me to do so for the royal family, since the Archbishop usually sees to their needs.”
    “But you could,” Heath pressed, “if you didn’t receive instructions to the contrary.”
    “True enough,” Iain agreed slowly. He looked back over his shoulder at Atira. “Why do I think this is more than idle speculation?”
    “Say, if you sequestered yourself for a time,” Heath said, “where you might not be found for a few hours. Then—”
    Iain stopped so abruptly that Atira almost ran into him. The young man gave her a sharp glance, as if suddenly aware that he was being stalked. Whether conscious or not, he shifted so that his back was to the wall. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Heath. “Subterfuge.”
    “What?” Atira asked.
    “Maybe.” Heath crossed his arms over his chest in response. “But tell me this—is there anything in the doctrines of our faith that would forbid the marriage of the Queen and the Overlord?”
    Iain thought for a moment, then with a huff ran his fingers through his hair, which made the unruly mess of curls even more so. “No,” he said with a sigh. “There is not.”
    “And if.” Heath raised a finger. “If, mind you, the Archbishop were to forbid such a marriage, the only reason would be his own personal feelings or those of the people influencing him, yes?”
    “What would you have me do?” Iain said sharply. “I may be young and new to my post, but I am not stupid. You would manipulate the situation so that I never receive those instructions?”
    “Yes,” Heath said. “In a heartbeat.”
    “I cannot disobey the Archbishop,” Iain said slowly.
    “If you were rushed into a room with a pregnant woman about to give birth, and her intended was frantic to make things right for the babe, would you marry them?” Heath asked.
    “In a heartbeat,” Iain admitted ruefully.
    Heath relaxed slightly. “I happen to know that when Xymund took the throne, he crated up a number of old books in his father’s chambers and had them stored.”
    Iain looked at the floor for a moment, clearly thinking. Atira looked at Heath, but he shook his head at her. The young man seemed to come to a conclusion, because with a sigh, he shook his head, as if conceding defeat. “Old books?” Iain raised an eyebrow, interested despite his