Warlord

should know better. Fetch drying cloths now."
    Amyu left as fast as she could.
    "Marcus." I eyed the tray next to me, with two bowls of stew, a pile of bread, and two mugs of kavage.
    "There is enough here to feed an army."
    Marcus snorted. "Eat what you can. You were wasting away on the slop the warrior-priests were feeding you, no doubt, if you ate at all."
    There was a cough from outside, and Amyu's hands pushed through the flap, filled with cloths. Marcus ac cepted the bundle, and Amyu's hands disappeared. Marcus shook his head, and placed them at the foot of the bed. He then eyed Keir, who had not moved. "Simus has the watch. Rafe and Prest are outside. My daggers are sharp, as are Amyu's."
    Keir drew in a deep breath, then gave a quick nod. He started to shrug out of the mail shirt, and Marcus moved to help him.
    "I'll see to this," Marcus offered, as he placed the heavy mail over his arm. "You'll see to your own blades, before they are all over with rust?"
    Keir nodded.
    "I'll bring what you need, then. Call if you need anything else."
    "Thank you, Marcus." I smiled at him.
    He paused, then reached out to cup my cheek with his hand, a rare gesture from this man. "Sleep well, Lara."
    I turned my attention to Keir as Marcus left. My Warlord was standing there, in his leather trous and thick quilted tunic he wore under the chainmail. His face was grim as he looked at me.
    "Keir," I started, but he shook his head. He hefted a bucket and moved it close, then grabbed up one of the drying cloths. "Why did you say you could not command them?"
    "Let me see to your hands." He knelt before me, and soaked one end of a cloth in the warm water. I held out my hands, palms up, and he lightly stroked the wet cloth over them.
    I looked at his head, his black hair shining in the light from the brazier. But he was focused on his task, so I could drink in the sight of him. It seemed forever since I'd seen him last, although I knew it had been only days.
    "What has happened?" I asked softly.
    Keir sighed. "A warlord is responsible for the lives of the warriors that follow him, Lara." He kept his eyes on his work. "Those lives are dear, and are not to be wasted. Death in battle is honorable and expected. Death from affliction is a horror."
    "The Council held you responsible for the plague?" I asked.
    "For the deaths," Keir continued, his voice soft. "I am stripped of my title, Lara. No longer a warlord of the Plains. No army at my command."
    I sucked in a quick breath.
    Keir paused, and looked at me with tired eyes. "You may wish to claim another, Warprize." I glared at him. "I did not come all this way, Keir of the Cat, to claim another. You are my chosen Warlord."
    "Lara, this changes—"
    "Nothing." I replied. Keir was worn, and tired. I could see it in the tautness of his jaw, in the depths of his eyes. "It changes nothing."
    Keir shook his head, and focused back on my hand. "Oh, but it does. Antas made much of sending a messenger to Water's Fall, to the warriors I left there. What will they do, when they learn that I am no longer a warlord? What will your people do?"
    "I am the Queen of Xy, Keir. That has not changed. You are still Overlord of Xy, and my chosen consort."
    "There are those that will take advantage of this, Lara." Keir spoke softly, still focused on my hand as he cleaned it. "Durst will certainly see it as an opportunity to—" I leaned in closer and whispered in his ear. "It changes nothing between us." Keir's hands stilled, his head down.
    "I thought you dead, lost to me forever," I choked out. "Yet here you are, warm and alive and next to me."
    He lifted his head, his eyes brilliant with his own tears. Some of the light in their depths was dimmed. The Council's actions had been a blow to him, I could see that.
    "Nothing else matters, Keir," I repeated. "Nothing except our love." He drew a shuddering breath, and I leaned in and kissed him gently. His lips were soft and gentle, and the touch reassured us both. It might have led to more, except that my stomach chose to grumble at that moment. I broke the kiss, and Keir chuckled,
    "Finish your work, my Warlord, so that I can eat." I held out my hands so that he could finish. "The warriors in Xy will probably do exactly what Rafe and the others have done. Continue to follow you. Besides, there is little chance that the messenger will get through the snows in the mountains." Keir shrugged. "Only the elements can say."
    "What did Rafe mean, when he said, 'That which