Warcry

Atira a glance and then started back down the path.
    Liam and his warriors followed, Liam still muttering under his breath. Atira held back, bringing up the rear.
    The path wound through hedges and wide swaths of rose briars until emerging on to an open, grassy area where warriors were setting up camp. A warrior came trotting up—a thin woman with dark skin. “Warlord.”
    Liam looked around and nodded with satisfaction. “Asandi, are we secure here?”
    “Yes, Warlord.” The woman grinned, white teeth flashing in the light. “Although they wish us to piss in small buildings.”
    “Xyian ways,” Liam said. “Which we will follow while within their tents, Asandi.”
    She laughed. “Your orders are obeyed, Warlord, but I would not ask for any truths on the matter until we are returned to the Plains.”
    Liam snorted.
    “If you have a need, send word through any guard,” Heath repeated. “They will get word to me.”
    “My thanks,” Liam said. “My only need is an escort to Keir in the morning. I have news for his ears.” Liam held up a hand, forestalling Heath. “Nothing urgent, but he will wish to consider it before he shares it with others.”
    Heath nodded. “Good night, Warlord.”

    “WHAT NEWS, I WONDER,” HEATH MUSED AS HE headed back down the path, taking the one that led to the kitchens.
    “Probably of the spring combats,” Atira replied from behind him. “They should have started by now. Perhaps Simus has qualified already.”
    Heath paused, raising an arm to hold back one of the branches of the rose briar that had arched over the path. “Already? But I thought the combats took weeks?”
    Atira walked under his arm. He felt the heat of her body as she passed close and caught the faint scent of her skin. His body’s response caught him off guard, but then she usually did that to him. He almost missed her response.
    “It depends,” she said, seemingly unaware of his reactions. “A warrior of Simus’s ability may not receive many challenges. If there are no or few challenges, Simus will be the Warlord and will gather warriors to serve him.”
    She continued down the path, her hips swaying slightly more than necessary. Oh, she was aware. Very aware. Suddenly, Heath’s entire body felt more alive, his senses more acute.
    “So, Xyians decide where plants will grow, and where they will not?” Atira looked around, shaking her head.
    “Yes.” Heath couldn’t care less about the garden, but felt oddly compelled to defend it. “We grow them for food, and beauty.”
    “Forcing the land to conform to your rules,” Atira said.
    “And providing a place to play.” Heath smiled. “Lara and I spent hours in the gardens, running free.”
    “I suppose it would be safe,” Atira said.
    “Not really.” Heath chuckled at the memory. “I once ran into a porcupine—a needle-rat,” he explained when Atira looked over her shoulder. “I ran into it on one of the paths. Ended up covered in quills and screamed my head off. Eln spent hours removing them. Lara watched and cried the entire time.”
    “She cares very much,” Atira said.
    “She does. She loves these gardens and the roses. It will be a while before they bloom, though.”
    “Ah.” Atira kept walking. “I will not be here to see that.”
    Heath felt like he’d taken a blow to the chest. “What?” He stopped in the path, watching Atira walk away.
    She looked back, then stopped and turned to face him. “What?”
    “You . . .” Heath’s mouth was dry as he looked into her eyes. “I thought—”
    “Captain?” A voice came through the night, high-pitched, calling his name. “Captain Heath?”
    “Here,” Heath called out, still staring at his lady.
    “Captain,” one of the runner lads ran up. “A message from Othur, sir.”
    “Catch your breath, boy,” Heath snapped.
    The lad gulped in air. “He said to say that the Queen is fine, but that she ain’t bearing yet. He said to tell you it was false pain. That he’d be needin’ ya tomorrow mornin’ for the Justice.”
    “Thanks, lad,” Heath said. “Who’s the watch commander this night?”
    “Detros took it.” The boy grinned. “Said he didn’t trust any other.”
    “Fair enough,” Heath said. “Get back to your duties.”
    The boy tore off into the night.
    “So,” Atira said. “Should we return to the hall?”
    Heath stared at her. They weren’t going to talk about this. She was going to avoid the subject; dance around one another, putting off