Warcry

fuss.
    “No,” Lara said as Anna and a few of the ladies started to help her undress. “Keir stays.”
    Heath left, not willing to be drawn into the argument. Lara was in good hands. He needed to find Atira.
    In the outer chamber Marcus was making kavage. Amyu was there, as well, changing into tunic and trous. Rafe and Prest were fully armed, and Ander and Yveni were by the door.
    Yveni gave Heath a nod. “I’ll be changing and on-guard outside in a moment.”
    “Sure you have to change?” Ander asked, eyeing her in her dress. “I would enjoy—”
    “Don’t even think about it.” The black woman shook her head as Heath slid out the door. “This protects nothing. And trying to walk in all this cloth!”
    Heath slid out into the hall to find his men spread out. “Lanfer’s still on the loose. Check anyone going in or out.”
    The “ayes” faded behind him as he trotted back to the stairs, looking for any sign of Atira’s passage. Heath frowned. Lanfer wasn’t stupid, and he’d be fleeing like a rat. Why would he head up instead of out?
    At the stairwell, he went up again, deciding to try at least two more flights before starting to search the floors.
    His reward was one of Atira’s slippers lying on the stairs.
    “Kill the bastard, my love, or I will kill him for you,” Heath growled as he drew his sword and started up the stairs.

    ATIRA AWOKE TO PAIN AND FOUL, HOT BREATH on her face.
    She kept still, trying to sort out what had happened. Someone was moving around near her, breathing heavily.
    Lanfer. She had chased him . . . up the tower, fighting on the stairs . . .
    A toe poked into her hip, trying to roll her over. She went with it, keeping her eyes closed, letting herself sprawl out on her back as her skirt twisted around her legs. There was a strangled gasp from above. The stupid dress . . . At least it would keep him distracted for a moment.
    So, a head blow. Lanfer must have gotten one in and taken her down.
    A sound, then, of ripping cloth, and then a hand gripped her wrist. She opened her eyes just enough to see Lanfer preparing to tie her hands, her sword on the ground close by.
    Atira brought her legs up, feet together, and kicked out. Caught by surprise, Lanfer went sprawling.
    Atira scrambled up, grabbed up her daggers, and moved back until the back of her legs hit stone. She glanced over her shoulder and gasped as fear swept through her.
    Up was bad. Down and out was terrifying.
    Atira reached out a hand to grab the edge of the low wall. She could see clear to Liam’s army camp and beyond, maybe even to the Plains themselves. She understood now the terror she’d seen in some of the warriors’ eyes when they’d described the top of the tower.
    She jerked her gaze away and looked for her enemy. Lanfer’s face was still swollen and bruised, but otherwise unhurt. He laughed as he drew his sword and backed up, kicking the wooden trapdoor closed. “Now it’s just us, my lovely.”
    As he spoke, she took the time to take in the area. The tower was built into the mountain, and its top was a halfcircle, with the low wall running all around. Large baskets stood at intervals along the walls, with bees hovering around them. And over all, the mountain towered above them, its craggy walls stark and unforgiving. There was a faint breeze that teased her hair, still tied up on top of her head. Other than the head blow, she was unhurt. Her sword in one hand, she reached for her dagger, still in its sheath, and drew it.
    No rocks, no obstructions except the door that Lanfer had closed. A good place to have a fight, except for the down part. Atira smiled at Lanfer and brought her weapons up. “There will be no backstabbing here, city-dweller.”
    “The only backstabbing will be with my co—”

    ATIRA CHARGED HIM, FEINTING A BLOW TO HIS chest. He parried her blow, easily blocking her dagger, but was not prepared for her body weight. She forced him back and slammed him into the stone of the mountain, their swords caught between their bodies. Lanfer grunted in pain.
    She pressed his dagger to the wall and used her hips and legs to brace. They struggled, and she tried to bring her blade up toward his neck. But Lanfer dropped his dagger and reached for her.
    Atira jumped back, retreating carefully, watching her opponent. Hand-to-hand would be fatal. Lanfer had strength and weight on his side.
    Lanfer claimed his dagger and advanced toward her. Atira circled then, unwilling to have down at her