This night would be no different.

Marcus bustled about, keeping an eye on the warriors that set up our tent, and cooking over an open fire at the same time. I sat close to his fire, watching as he worked. Rafe and Prest had gone off to see to their own camps but Ander and Yveni remained, keeping watch over me. Once Keir arrived, they’d leave as well. While Keir circled our tent with guards, they stayed well back now, giving me an illusion of a bit of privacy.

Firelander had a very different attitude toward privacy then the customs I was raised with. For them bathing together and strolling nude was the custom, with no regard for modesty, even between men and women. As Joden had pointed out to me, there was little privacy to be found in the tents of the Firelander.

I sighed. Joden was something else I didn’t want to think about.

In the overnight camps, no one wasted time cutting down trees for seats. Instead, we used the saddle blankets as pads. Dirt and moisture seemed to fall right off the odd wool. Seated by the fire, with a cloak over my shoulders, I was comfortably warm. Winter had moved into the mountains, and while we were moving down onto the Plains, frost still nipped at our heels. The sky was clear, it would be cold tonight.

Marcus was cutting meat and brewing kavage and would tolerate no help from me. I was too tired to do much more than sit. So I pulled my satchel close and opened the flap. I’d been using it since—

Since Gils died.

My hands stilled on the scarred leather. Gils was the young Firelander who’d asked to be my apprentice, breaking the traditions of his people. The image of his freckled face and red curls flashed before me. He’d been so young, so eager, with dancing green eyes and that cheeky grin.

I closed my eyes, and fought my tears. Goddess, hold him close.

And hold the souls of Epor and Isdra. The warriors who’d entered the village with me, and were the first to face the plague. Well, Epor had. Isdra had chosen to join her bonded, on the night of the mourning ceremony. Their faces, too, flashed before me. Along with the hundreds that had died of a sickness that I couldn’t prevent or cure.

If only…

“Here,” Marcus’s gruff voice interrupted my thoughts. A cup of kavage was held under my nose. “Drink. Stop thinking on the dead.”

I took the cup, the dark and bitter brew steaming in the cool air. “Marcus—”

“Lara.” Marcus’s voice softened and I look up at him through my tears. “We have mourned the dead, and will bid them farewell on the longest night. It is enough.”

“But, I miss them.” I answered, wiping my eyes with my free hand. “And I regret—”

“They ride with us until the snows.” Marcus responded. “Send your thoughts to them, yes. But not always the sorrow. Remember the joy as well. Like when the young’un read Simus’s letter to you. Yes?”

I smiled at the memory. “Yes.”

Marcus grunted in satisfaction, then returned to his work. I blew on the surface of the kavage and took a sip. The heat spread through my body, and I continued to sip, remembering Gils’s eagerness, and the time I caught Epor and Isdra kissing by the well.

But there was still in ache in my heart.

The satchel had been Gils’s. He’d made it from an old saddlebag, adding a thick strap and lots of pockets for ‘useful things.’ I’d used it since he’d died, but hadn’t really cleaned it out. Just kept stuffing things in and rummaging around without really thinking about the contents. I pulled it closer, intending to empty it out and re-pack it.

“Heyla!”

Keir was coming as a gallop. The sight brought a smile to my face, for he was quite a figure, dressed in his black leathers, on his big black warhorse, framed by the setting sun. I threw back the cloak and ran to greet him.

He pulled his horse to a stop and dismounted with one swift move. His black cloak swirled out around him as he caught me in his arms, and hugged me tight, claiming my lips in a kiss. He smelled of horse and leather and himself, and I returned the kiss with passion.

He broke off with a laugh, and swung me up into his arms, striding toward our tent. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and nuzzled his ear, certain of his intent and in complete agreement.

“And what of the food?” Marcus demanded, as Keir marched past the fire to our tent.

Keir spun on his heel, and faced him. “Marcus! Want to know the best part of being a Warlord?”

Marcus’s eyebrow rose.

Keir’s mouth curled up slowly into a smile. “Getting what I want.”

I laughed as Keir turned back toward the tent.

A growl came from behind him. “The Warlord’s dinner will be dumped in the dirt if Hisself does not eat it now.”

Keir paused in mid-step. From his expression, he was torn with rare indecision.

“The meal is ready now. It will be eaten now.”

Keir looked at me with such a sorrowful expression in his bright blue eyes. Just then his stomach rumbled, and I laughed right out loud.

We ate, as the sky above us turned a vivid dark blue and deepened to black. The stars hung bright in the night sky, with a moon that glowed through the trees. Marcus finished refilling our mugs with kavage, and was cleaning the remains of our meal away when he asked his question. “How goes it with the warriors?”

I was seated next to Keir, leaning against his shoulder, a cloak over both of us. But I leaned back a bit to see his face as he replied.

Keir sighed. “Not as well as I could wish. Iften talks, and the warriors look at empty pack animals and empty saddle bags, and wonder if they have done the right thing in following me.” He reached over to stoke my hair. “I tell my truths, but words weigh little.”

I leaned over and brushed his lips with mine. There wasn’t much that I could say to that. Keir’s conquest of Xy was a break in tradition for the Firelander. Their normal practice was to raid and plunder what they could, to return to the Plains laden with spoils. But Keir wanted to change their ways, to conquer and hold, for the benefit of both peoples.

“Fools.” Marcus grumbled. “They can’t see past the heads of their horses.”

“But Keir, that’s not quite true. They’ve pots of fever’s foe, and that bloodmoss that we gathered.” I yawned. “They know more than they did before about fevers.” Goddess knew that was true. We’d pots and pots of fever’s foe left from treating the plague, and everyone had aided in the treatment of the sick. I’d spread the extra out, making sure that everyone had some, and were watching for signs of the plague’s return. If the Sweat re-appeared in our ranks, I wanted to know. Every warrior had agreed to carry some, and keep watch.

Except Iften.

Keir gave me a thoughtful look. “That’s a truth I had not considered, Lara.”

I smiled at him, and then yawned again, so hard my jaw cracked and my eyes watered. My stomach was full, and I was warm and growing sleepy.

Keir leaned in, taking the cup of kavage from my hand. “You are tired tonight, beloved.” He moved closer, and put his arm around me. The warmth felt good, and I leaned in, putting my head on his shoulder.

“She asked for lessons.” Marcus answered softly. “She wants to be able to protect you.”

“Protect me?”

I nodded, even as I felt sleep overtake me. Their voices continued, as the fire crackled. Then we were moving, and I found myself under the blankets with Keir at my side. I roused just enough to murmur a question in his ear.

He chuckled softly. “Warlords also learn to wait for what they want. Sleep, Lara.”

Content, I drifted off to sleep.

At some point I felt Keir slip out from under the furs. I lifted my head, my eyes half open, to see him standing there, talking to one of the guards. I must have made some sort of questioning sound, for Keir turned toward me, his eyes glittering in the faint light. He gestured for me to return to sleep.