Warprize

Keir had allowed no long farewells. One hug from Anna and we were mounted and gone, traveling quickly through the night, weapons at the ready. Keir hadn’t bothered with the niceties of farewells to Xymund either, and I was convinced that it was calculated.
    The night covered the fields, so I was spared another glimpse of the graves. The stars gleamed bright in the night sky, and I heard the Firelanders muttering something that sounded like prayers. I sighed softly. I shouldn’t use that term anymore, since it wasn’t what they called themselves. I wondered for a moment why Xyians called them ‘Firelanders’.
    Of course, I wasn’t really Xyian anymore, was I? I wasn’t really anything, was I? I closed my eyes, and lost myself in my pain.
    Only when Rafe coughed did I realize that he held my horse’s head and that we were in front of Keir’s tent. I slid out of the saddle and rubbed my forehead to ease its ache. Marcus stood just inside the tent, the lamps bright behind him. “Warprize? Are you all right?”
    Keir came up behind me as our horses were led away. His hands were on my shoulders, and he directed me toward the sleeping area. I stumbled along, guided by his warm hands, over to the bed, where he made me sit down. I could hear murmurs, Keir and Marcus talking. “I’ll get kavage,” Marcus said quietly. “Maybe some bread.” I had to smile. Apparently Anna was not the only one to ease pain with food.
    “No,” Keir responded. He knelt down in front of me and pulled off one of the bright red slippers with a gentle touch. “We need sleep, Marcus. Go to bed.”
    Marcus gave him a doubtful look, but he left. Keir removed the other slipper as well, but I didn’t look up. “Why would he do it? Why would he burn them?” I asked.
    Keir paused and glanced at me.
    “They were just my notes, my observations. Scribbles really.” I stopped as the pain welled up inside my chest.
    Keir snorted. I looked at him in surprise. “You are attacked in the market, insulted by the court and your brother, and what troubles you the most is the loss of some papers.” He stood rather abruptly. Anger surged up inside me. “They may have just been papers, but they were important to me.”
    Keir lifted an eyebrow. “That’s why they were burned.”
    I sagged, exhaustion flowing over me like a wave.
    Keir sat next to me on the bed and removed his boots. He started in on his armor, carefully removing each piece and setting it on the benches. I gathered strength, stood and went into the bathing area to remove the dress carefully. I tried to fold it, but the material slipped and slid, the dress ending up on the floor every time. Tired, frustrated and upset, I finally gave up and left it lay on one of the benches. A tunic and trous were set out for me, and I climbed into them for sleeping. After washing out my undergarments, I washed up quickly. My hair was windblown from the tower and the ride, so I gathered up a comb and returned to the other room to try to deal with the tangled mess.
    Keir slipped into the room as I came out, and I heard him splash about as I tried to draw the comb through my hair. It hurt, but not as much as the idea of all that work burned, or all those herbs and mixtures destroyed. It made no sense, to ruin the stillroom. Why do it? Why think that Anna would poison me? The idea was laughable. Nor would Xymund hire mercenaries to destroy the peace. My head hurt with thinking about it, and I yanked my hair into a handful and started working at the tangles with a vengeance.
    The bed sagged, and the comb was tugged out of my hand. Keir moved behind me, and wrapped me in his arms, and held me tight. I lowered my head, embarrassed at how good it felt to be held. It was strange to be held so, embraced so intimately. Yet how quickly his touch had become familiar and welcome. We stayed that way for a long moment, then with one hand, Keir swept the hair from the back of my neck, and nuzzled my nape. His warm breath stirred the smaller hairs, and I shifted slightly, uncomfortable with the touch and yet stirred by it. Keir moved his hands to my shoulders and stroked down my arms until he reached my hands.
    He cradled my right hand in both of his and started caressing it, tracing each finger slowly, and moving his fingertips over my palm. I could feel his sword calluses against my skin. His lips were at my ear as he spoke. “I was taught that we are of the elements. Flesh, breath, soul, and blood.” His