Warlord

Warprize has claimed her warrior." He'd changed the wording, but I didn't care. As his words were repeated, everyone turned, looking down the wide walkway between them. The echos died and we waited in silence. I'd thought he'd emerge from the crowd at some point, but no one moved. All heads were looking down that walkway, so I looked too, only to see a figure coming toward me in the distance, walking steadily. I squinted a bit, trying to make out who it was, until my eyes went wide with surprise. It was Keir walking toward me, barefoot and wearing nothing but thin, white trous. I sucked in a breath. He looked so vulnerable, without armor or weapons. Bare-chested, barefoot, he walked toward me, his face intent, his eyes blue as the skies.
    I swallowed hard, recognizing the fabric of the trous. It was the same material as the shift I'd worn when I'd surrendered myself to him in Xy. As I had surrendered to him, he now surrendered to me, in full view of every Plains warrior here.
    My heart swelled in an instant, with joy, with pride, with love for the fire of my heart. My Warlord.
    Keir advanced until he stood before me. His bronze skin shone as if oiled. I looked into those blue eyes, and would have reached for him, but he knelt, and lowered his head, so that I could see the back of his neck. The breeze blew again, and I caught the faint scent of vanilla.
    "Your chosen Warlord comes before you, naked and bearing no weapons." Reness spoke from behind me. Her choice of words made her support very clear.
    Keir sank down further on his haunches, and bowed his head.
    "Your chosen Warrior submits to you, Warprize," Essa added.
    Keir lifted his hands, palms up, as I had done so long ago.
    Wild Winds spoke now, with just a touch of sarcasm in his voice. "You are free to reject or claim him Warprize. Speak, under open skies, and it will be as you desire."
    The words Keir had spoken in the throne room echoed in my mind. I reached out, and placed my hands over his. "Thus do I claim my Warlord."
    Wild cheering rose again. I tugged on Keir's hands and he rose to stand before me, blue eyes gleaming as he looked down into my eyes. I lifted his hands so that our palms came together, and slipped my fingers between his. "Kiss me, Keir."
    "Lara." Keir leaned down, and the sounds of cheering melted away. His lips on mine, I leaned into him, conscious of the thin white material of his trous, and the scent of vanilla on his skin. It was passion, and heat, and love, with the promise of a lifetime behind it.
    "The snows are upon us!" Essa declared. "The Council of Elders is closed, until the warmth and new grass appears. But for this night, let the celebration begin!"
    Later, I found myself seated with Keir on the stone circle, as patterns were danced before us. Marcus was close, as was Amyu, and all of those who had supported us. Atira and Heath had just left, promising a special dance in my honor, something that Atira had designed herself.
    I leaned against Keir's shoulder with a sigh. Simus had produced Keir's weapons and leather armor and Keir was once again the fierce, well-armed warrior of the Plains. A pity really. He'd looked wonderful in those trous. Maybe I could convince him to wear them to bed? I felt my lips curl into a smile at the idea. Keir, lying on our bed, wearing naught but. . .
    As if he caught my thought, Keir's lips brushed my ear. "That is an interesting look, Warprize." He nuzzled my neck. "What are you thinking of?" I gave him a sideways glance, and decided to be honest. "You. Those trous. Our bed." Keir cleared his throat and shifted on his stool.
    I lowered my voice. "Our own private celebration." I put my hand on his thigh, and scratched my fingers over the leather.
    He put his hand over mine, capturing it. "It would be rude to leave before seeing Atira's pattern danced." I sighed. "Truth. But then, you are a Warlord of the Plains. Bold. Demanding." I wiggled my fingers in his grasp. "Rude, upon occasion."
    "None of that now." Marcus spoke behind me. He was cloaked, and staying behind us.
    "Mar-cus," I whined.
    "War-prize," he mimicked. "Time enough for that after the patterns are danced. Woven especially for this celebration."
    "Yes." Keir squeezed my fingers, looking smug. "Behave, Warprize." I looked at him in astonishment.
    Marcus snorted. "Like you aren't a stallion ready for his mare." I straightened at that, flushing up like a girl. "Marcus!"
    "Hush, the both of you," Marcus scolded. "I've a tent set up,