Warprize

do this. I could not submit to this. I opened my eyes, and saw the vial where it sat on the mantel. One quick swallow…
    Anna had already moved to the door. After she opened it, she knelt down slowly, wincing as her knees pressed against the stone. Gathering my wits, I walked to the door and paused to gently place my hand on her head. She reached up, took my hand and pressed it to her lips. She looked up, eyes brimming. “
    Thank you, Daughter of Xy.”
    I nodded and managed a smile before I stepped into the hall. And brought myself up short. The corridor was lined with people. They stood on either side, pressed into corners and against the walls. I stood for a minute, looking. The nearest ones went down on their knees. I heard their quiet “Thank you, Daughter of Xy.” I took a few steps forward, and more sank down.
    As I walked down the halls toward the ceremony they each knelt and murmured “Thank you, Daughter of Xy.” Through the main halls, down the stairs. There were servants, townspeople, healers that I knew, some of the wounded I had tended. The people who would not be in the throne room. The ones I was doing this for.
    They were with me, all the way to the door of the an-techamber. Their thanks and their faces would be with me forever.
    I could do this.
    At the antechamber of the throne room, the guards on both sides opened the door, and I stepped inside. My eyes clouded, and I stood for a moment, trying to blink them clear. One of the pages approached, knelt and held up a cloth. I took it, wiped my eyes, and returned it to him. Othur was standing there. “
    Daughter of Xy,” he said. “The fealty ceremony has begun. The court herald will announce you when it is time.”
    I nodded and stepped into his arms, getting a quick hug. He whispered, “Thank you, beloved Daughter of Xy,” in my ear, and quickly left the room.
    I moved to the fireplace and felt the warm hearth stone under my feet. The fire crackled cheerfully, but I felt cold. I tried to rub the chill bumps from my arms.
    I stiffened when the herald’s voice rang out. “Xylara, Daughter of Xy, you are summoned to the Court.”
    The guards opened the doors, and I walked forward.
    I lost my breath in the next instant.
    The white marble of the throne room gleamed in the light of the sunset. The lords of the Court stood against the walls, as did an even larger number of the Warlord’s men. I could not make out the figure on the throne, but I knew that it was the Warlord. He would have been seated there for the ceremony. Xymund was off to the side, standing with the Council members.
    The room was silent as I stepped within. The cold marble pulled the warmth from my feet as I lowered my eyes to the floor and advanced toward the throne. The quiet was unnerving. It took forever to cross the floor, one slow step at a time. I kept my eyes on the gleaming marble, and hoped that I was headed in the right direction.
    There seemed to be no noise, no coughing, no shuffling in the crowd. Just the sound of my heart beating against my ribs, and the cold that had settled in my chest. After what seemed like years, I could see the step that lead up to the throne. A blue cushion had been placed before the throne, one I had never seen before. I was grateful to whoever had thought of it. I halted before the throne, and slowly sank onto the cushion. On either side, I could see two black boots broadly planted, and legs encased in black fabric. I was careful to keep my eyes down.
    I took a deep breath, slowly lifted my hands, palms up, and silently submitted myself to what was to come.
    The room seemed to stop breathing. I felt fingers at the base of my neck, gently unraveling my hair. Strong fingers ran through it, releasing and letting it fall free. I shivered, both at the touch and the implication that disobedience would not be tolerated.
    Cold metal encircled my wrists. I heard a click as they locked into place. Surprisingly, they were heavy silver bracelets, with no chains. Weren’t there supposed to be chains?
    A deep male voice boomed above my head, in my language. “Thus do I claim the warprize.”
    It was a voice I knew.
    My eyes flew up as the room shook with the response of the Warlord’s men as they stomped their feet and cheered.
    The blue-eyed warrior from the marketplace looked down at me, a very self-satisfied smile on his face. Kier was the Warlord? How had he done this, or even learned of my true identity?
    Before I could think, or say a