Warprize

tongue, mindful of those who might overhear us. Simus nodded. “Yes, I speak for the Warlord until he releases his claim. You have sworn fealty to him.”
    “But I haven’t sworn, have I?” I looked out of the corner of my eye. Simus was puzzled, but he answered my question. “Your system allows oaths to pass from heir to heir, am I not right?”
    I nodded slowly. “Yes, but the oath must be ratified.”
    Simus shrugged.
    Casually, I continued. “And as warprize, Simus?”
    “Eh?”
    “As warprize, must I obey you?”
    Simus tensed. It was a slight movement, involuntary on his part, but I caught it. He recovered well. “You are no longer warprize, Your Majesty.”
    “But if I were?”
    “As warprize, you would rank me.” He looked at me closely, but his eyes betrayed nothing. “But you are no longer claimed as warprize.”
    I tilted my head and smiled at him over the brim of my mug. “That’s odd.”
    “Odd?”
    “I’m sure that Joden told me that once claimed, only the elders could confirm or deny my status as warprize.”
    Simus stared at me, his eyes wide.
    I thumped my mug down on the table, hard enough to rattle the crown. “You will tell me now, Simus, and tell me the truth, with the flames as a witness.”
    Simus dropped his mug, groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “Who told you? Keir was sure that—”
    I stood, furious. “No one told me the entire truth. I had to figure it out for myself.” I breathed in, trying to maintain my anger and control my delight. “I must be confirmed as the warprize by the Council of Elders, yes?”
    Simus nodded, head never leaving his hands.
    “I remain the warprize until the elders confirm or deny me, yes?” I pressed him hard. I was rewarded with a muffled ‘yes’. I pressed on. “Keir can’t change my status once he claims me, can he?”
    “No.”
    “As warprize, I answer only to my chosen warlord and I haven’t yet formally chosen a warlord, have I?
    That’s why he denied me access to the camp, so I couldn’t talk to Marcus or Joden, isn’t it?”
    Simus moaned.
    “Look at me.” He didn’t move. “Look at me, Simus.”
    Dropping his hands, he collapsed back in his chair and looked at me. “Lara, please—”
    I drew myself up. “As warprize,—”
    Simus held up a hand, palm out. “You rank me, little healer.” He dropped his hand down, and leaned forward slightly. “Keir is trying to do what is best for you and this land. Your kingdom needs you and there are things that you will face as warprize, obstacles that—”
    “Never asking if there might be alternatives!” I was furious, practically spitting. “Without considering my thoughts on the matter!”
    “Lara—”
    “Enough, Simus.” I lifted my chin. “Hear now the will of the warprize.”
    He sagged in his chair. “I will hear and obey, warprize.” He looked up, pained and yet with a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “Can we at least have more kavage before you order me to thwart Keir’s plans?”
    I smiled, and sat back down, feeling strangely exhilarated, my headache gone. I was going to make this work, find a way to balance the interests of my kingdom and my heart. Keir had been right. The best part of being a queen and a warprize is getting exactly what you want. Once again I faced the council over my father’s desk, my hands sweating, my stomach cramping, and the crown of the Kingdom of Xy about to fall off my head at any moment. I put my hands face down on the maps spread out over the desk, and tried to remain calm, for this day would see either the birth or the death of my hopes. “My councilors, I thank you for joining me this morning. I have something that I wish to announce before we begin our deliberations.”
    This was no group of sleepy lords, craftmasters, and clergy—half -awake from being roused from their beds. These men and women faced me alert and ready, each with their own agenda to be considered. They’d all come, with the exception of Lord Durst. He still lay abed, recovering from his wound. I’d tried to blunt the edge with an offering of tea and sweet pastries, but mere food would not be enough. Othur had a chair off to the side, not technically part of the council, but as Seneschal he’d been invited to councils by my father. Xymund had removed the privilege, but I had restored it the day before. Warren was sitting next to Simus, whose tunic and trous were the color of gold. He looked relaxed and opulent, with the onyx