Warprize

animal snorted in protest. I looked up. “My Warlord is sworn to care for me. I will take nothing except at his hands.”
    Joden started laughing at that. “Oh, what a song this will make!”
    Keir cursed again, dismounted and stalked over to me. I clasped my hands tight together as he moved into my space, coming as close as he could without touching me. I closed my eyes and trembled, craving his warmth and touch. He stood there for a moment, breathing.
    Breathing in the scent of the vanilla that I had rubbed into my hair and skin. If this didn’t work there would be no need for chains. I was certain that if we parted again, a part of me would simply die. I opened my eyes and stared up into his, where his anger raged unabated. Hope died in my breast. This wasn’t going to work.
    I swallowed hard, and went to my knees before him there on the road. I didn’t make it. At the first hint of what I was about to do, he swept his cloak off and wrapped it about my shoulders. Then picking me up, he cradled me in his arms, and headed for his horse. “Joden,” he barked.
    Joden dismounted, and handed his reins to Marcus. Keir handed me off to him, then turned to his own horse. Joden smiled at me, his round face almost split by his wide smile. “Oh, Lara, what a song I will make of this!” He kept his voice down, as Keir brought his horse in close. I bit my lip, afraid that Joden was speaking too soon.
    Joden lifted me up to Keir, who cradled me in his arms. Jo-den’s voice rang out loudly. “I return your warprize, Warlord.”
    Keir shot him an angry look, but said nothing. He turned his horse toward the army, and we set off. I noticed that Tant had made himself scarce. He was no where to be seen. As we rode, I worked a hand free and lifted it to Keir’s cheek. I could feel his jaw clenching under my hand.
    “The Council of Xy agreed that I would serve the kingdom better as warprize.”
    The muscles of his jaw moved under my fingers, but he said nothing.
    “I made Othur Warden of Xy. He will take good care of my people and the land.”
    Keir stared straight ahead, controlling the horse as we rejoined the army. The cloak had fallen to my shoulders, and I heard the warriors react as they saw my hair whipping about in the wind. I kept talking, murmuring my words softly. “This is what I want, Keir.”
    He didn’t look at me. “Marcus! Find Gils and figure out where they stored the medicines. Have him come and tend her. And find her some clothes and shoes.”
    “Aye, Warlord.” Marcus moved off, but Keir still didn’t look at me. I tried again. “You have only to hear my heartbeat to know that each beat is for you.”
    He did not respond. I swallowed hard. “For us.”
    No response.
    Nothing.
    I closed my eyes and pulled back my hand, afraid that I had lost.
    A finger under my chin forced my head up, and I opened my eyes to find him gazing down at me. Those blue eyes were suspiciously bright, with a trace of humor as he bent his head to whisper against my lips.
    “Forever.”
     
    A preview of the next novel of Keir and Xylara by Elizabeth A. Vaughan Coming in 2006 from Tor Romance
     
    “Bloodmoss! That’s bloodmoss, Marcus!” I leaned over, trying to get a better look. I was positive that the grubby little plant I was seeing passing under the hooves of the horse was the legendary herb. “Let me down!”
    The horse we were riding danced as my weight shifted and Marcus tightened up the reins. “If you don’t stop wiggling, you’re gonna tumble off, and embarrass Hisself and me.” Marcus groused as the horse pranced under us.
    I tightened my grip on his waist. “If you let me ride by myself, this wouldn’t be a problem.”
    “You can’t ride worth a damn, and your feet are still ill. Now sit still! How would it look, the Warprize sprawled in the dirt?”
    “Marcus, I am a Master Healer and my feet are healing fine.”
    “You know from nothing,” Marcus growled. “I will judge if the Warprize is fit to walk.”
    I settled back, frustrated. While I might be Xylara, Master Healer, Daughter of the House of Xy, Queen of Xy, Warprize of Keir of the Tribe of the Cat, Warlord of the Plains but as far as Marcus was concerned I was little more than an unruly child. I sighed, and leaned my head on the back of his shoulder. “I can ride just fine.”
    Marcus snorted. “About as well as you tend your own feet.”
    Therein lay one of my problems. When I’d made the decision to follow the Warlord’s army,