Warprize

warprizes. When you submitted to Keir, you were submitting to give him a chance to court you, a chance to show you what you could and do mean to him.”
    He frowned again. “And this was explained to your king, probably privately, during the talks.”
    He tilted his head, looking at me as if I was a child at my lessons. “Do you understand? You are not a ‘
    slave’. You are a mate, a consort. You are second only to Keir in this camp. If you demand your freedom and leave this camp no one, including Keir,” he emphasized, “would lift a finger to stop you. By our laws and by our ways, you cannot be held here. Your presence in our camp is a gift to your people and our people and we acknowledge that gift.”
    I blinked. “The bracelets…”
    Joden smiled. “Keir had the bracelets crafted in hope. They are not a symbol of your…” He stumbled on the word. “… slavery. They are symbols of your potential bond.”
    I still didn’t believe. “The token. Keir said that the token was not for me to use.”
    Joden quirked his mouth. “How does it look if the woman you are courting feels she needs its protections?”
    I just stared at him.
    He met my eyes calmly. “You are not property. If you choose to leave, no one will stop you.”
    I stood.
    He stayed seated and watched me walk out of the tent.
    Isdra looked up. “Need help with a pot, Warprize?”
    I looked at her oddly, hearing ‘Warprize’ as a title, not a label or a thing. My silence attracted Epor’s attention. He took up his war club and stood. “Warprize?”
    Joden’s horse was outside, cropping at the sparse grass. I moved forward and grabbed the reins. Epor moved as if to follow me. “No. Stay here.”
    Epor stopped dead. Isdra came to stand next to him. “Warprize,” she spoke quickly. “We are commanded to guard you—”
    “I wish to leave camp.” I gave them a narrow glance.
    Epor sucked in a breath. “If that is the case, we cannot stop you. But Warprize, please, let us get horses and escort you back to your people. Let us at least assure your safety.”
    “No.”
    Epor swallowed hard. Isdra went as white as her hair. Jo-den had followed me out of the tent and stood there looking at me. Isdra appealed to him. “Singer, please tell her that it’s for her own safety. The attempts on her life…”
    I waited.
    “She is the warprize, yes? And to be obeyed?” Joden asked.
    Epor and Isdra both nodded. I swung myself up into the saddle.
    Joden’s face did not change its expression as he looked up at me. “You are free, Lara. The only restraints on you are those of your own choosing.”
    I turned the horse, jammed my toes into its belly, and it sprang down the road toward the camp’s main gate.
    Through the camp we plunged, the horse’s mane and my hair streaming in the wind. The horse was willing, and I could feel its muscles move under me as its hooves pounded into the earth. I leaned forward, wanting to laugh and cry at the same time.
    There was no outcry behind us, no one tried to stop me.
    Some saw me and waved a hand in acknowledgment, but showed no surprise nor consternation. I plunged headlong between the tents, urging the horse on and on, a rising feeling of excitement in my chest. We pounded through the main gate and out into the field beyond. The guards there seemed only mildly interested, if slightly disapproving of my riding style.
    Out the gate and up the rise where the beaten road met the main road that led from the castle gates down into the valley. I pulled the horse to a stop, but it fought me, wanting to run. It danced beneath me, and I wheeled its head about, until at last it was quiet beneath me.
    We stood there, the horse blowing and my heart pounding against my ribs. No one was following, no one was reacting, there was no hue and cry, no chase. I was free. Truly, truly free.
     

 

     
     

Chapter 11
     
    I laughed, delighted at my freedom, at the sun on my face, at the wind in my hair. The horse danced under me, eager to go. I wheeled it to face the city and the castle. I could go home.
    The wind blew my hair into my face, and I used one hand to clear it away. I could go home, back to my old life, as if nothing had happened. Run to the kitchens and Anna’s loving arms and Othur’s grin and pick up the tatters of my life. Rebuild the stillroom, make Xymund see reason, and…
    What if Keir was right? What if Xymund had tried to have me killed?
    If I returned to the castle, I’d be under his authority.