Reness barked a laugh. “What warrior-priest would trouble themselves over a birth?”

I stared at her, dumbfounded. Reness ignored my reaction, and hustled me out of the tent, Amyu following behind with my satchel. “We will watch her carefully, I swear it,” Reness said. “Now go, and quickly.”

Rafe and Prest were waiting, and we started back in silence, much to my frustration. Amyu avoided my eyes, and I didn’t press her with questions. I huffed out a breath, and pulled my cloak close around me. My questions could wait, until I’d had more sleep.

But as I left that tent, I knew one thing for certain. When the time came, if the time came, no one was taking my babe from my arms.

Unless I was dead.

I broke Amyu’s silence at breakfast. She served kavage and food, and then tried to bow herself from the room, but I spoke first. “Amyu.”

She stopped, clearly not happy, her eyes down.

“Amyu—” Now that I’d started I wasn’t sure what to say.

“I am barren.” Amyu’s voice was flat, her face void of any emotion. “I have not quickened since my moon times came on me.” She didn’t look up, didn’t move, but her hands clenched into fists. “I have prayed to the elements and tried every remedy suggested by countless theas and initiators. I even managed to convince a warrior-priest to treat me, but still my body will not bear.” She remained unmoving, but her knuckles were white. “What once brought pleasure is now almost too painful to suffer.”

“Amyu.” I gestured to the stool opposite mine, but she did not move. “I don’t—”

“I was chosen to serve you, because even if I was contaminated by your ways, it would not matter.”

I stiffened. “Why doesn’t it matter?”

She lifted her face, proud and detached. “Bearing no children, I remain a child myself, unable to serve the Tribes as a warrior. I will perform this last task, then I will seek the snows.”

That explained why Essa and Reness had called her a child, then. I had thought it a form of endearment, but it wasn’t. It was her status.

“Amyu.” I leaned forward, desperate that she understand. “I have ways to aid a woman to bear children, but I don’t have them with me. There are herbs in the mountains, horse grass for example, that might—”

“So I turn to your ways to bear for the Tribe?” Amyu spat. “What does that make me? Of the Plains? Of Xy?” She grimaced and turned to go.

“You asked for my help for Eace. Can’t you accept that help for yourself?”

She paused, back straight, then headed for the tent flap. “Eat, Daughter of Xy. They are seeing to a bath for you.”

She left me sitting there, with food before me, and no real appetite. What a waste that would be. How many lives, like Amyu and Marcus, did the Plains lose because of their ways and traditions?

I took a drink of kavage, dark and bitter on my tongue. Maybe there was a good reason to take babes from their mothers, but I couldn’t see it. And I’d die a hundred times before I’d allow a babe of mine to be taken from me.

Suddenly, it seemed so hopeless. The idea that I could change anything about these people, even with Keir’s help ... it seemed so ridiculous. So impossible. That we could combine our peoples, and benefit both, despite their differences.

Keir. My throat suddenly closed. I missed him so much. I wanted him close, to talk, to argue, to touch. I hated this separation, hated not knowing what was happening to him. Maybe I could get a message to him, somehow. Maybe Rafe, or Prest? I took up the flat bread, and started chewing.

I stopped in mid-bite. Did she say something about a bath?

“This wasn’t quite what I had in mind.” I tried not to laugh at them, since it wasn’t their fault. But my hosts had very odd ideas of what ‘bathing under the bells’ meant.

They’d put up a tent over a stream that pooled deeply next to the bank. The tent stretched from bank to bank, and down into the water. There was no top. They’d carefully asked if I had to be private to the skies, and I’d solemnly told them that it wasn’t a problem.

“It’s private,” I conceded. The warrior-priests were glaring at me rather fiercely. Apparently Reness carried a bit of weight and they’d been told in no uncertain terms to arrange a bath for me.

“Of course, my Warlord provided warm water,” I added sweetly.

Amyu suppressed a slight smile as my offended guards filed out. “We will guard upstream and down, so that you are not disturbed.” Amyu offered a basket full of drying cloths, and a clean tunic and trous on top. I dropped my satchel on the shore, and took them with a great deal of satisfaction. It was going to be chilly, but it was a bath, and I couldn’t wait to wash my hair.

Amyu gave me a nod. “Call out if you need me.”

I waited until the tent flap fell shut, then stripped off my clothes. The sun was high, almost to the nooning, so that would help keep me warm as I dried. I’d wash out my underthings as well. Naked, I sat on the grassy shore, and dug out my precious bar of vanilla soap. There was a bit of vanilla oil left too. I’d save that for my hair. I chortled in delight. A bath. Finally!

I set everything out where I could reach it, and then slipped into the water, gasping as the cold stole my breath.

The bottom was sandy under my toes, clear of sticks and rocks. I reached down and added some sand to my hands as I worked the soap for suds. I was determined to get as clean as possible. The sand added a bit of grit as I worked the soap over every inch of my skin.

It didn’t take long for the water to feel warm and the air cool. I waded out into deeper water, holding my breath to submerge myself completely, and started in on my hair. It would take time to dry but it would be worth it. It felt so good to scrub my scalp.

Finally, after sudsing and rinsing twice, I stood up straight. My hair felt heavy with all the water and I wrung it out as best I could. Twirling it up in a long rope, I laid it over my shoulder, and moved toward the bank. I’d dry it out and comb it once I was—

Something grabbed my ankle.

I jumped, squeaked, and dropped the soap.

Keir rose from the depths, dripping wet and glorious. I gaped in amazement, drinking in his face.

“Lara,” he whispered, reaching out to me. “We need to—”

I leaped into his arms, reaching out to pull his head down, and claimed his lips with mine.

Keir moaned into my mouth, and his arms came up to wrap me in their strength. I kissed him again and again, craving his touch, his taste, his hot breath on my chilled skin.

Keir broke the kiss, gasping for air. “We must talk.”

I reclaimed his mouth, and raised my leg to rub his hip, trying to get him closer. His arm moved down, his hand under my buttocks, and then both hands, supporting me, lifting me.

I held on for dear life, grabbing his shoulders, refusing to release his mouth. He groaned as he entered me, and moved me with ease, his arms and shoulders flexing under my fingers. I broke the kiss, and wrapped my arms around him, urging him on with soft demands in his ear, letting my fingers play with his wet hair.

It had been so long.

We both shuddered in release at the same time, holding each other tight, fearful of making a sound. The air was chill, yet there was nothing but heat burning within. I listened to Keir try to catch his breath as I stroked his damp shoulders. “The skies favor the bold,” I whispered softly.

He pulled back his head to smile at me, and kiss me again. “I had to see you. To know that you were well. To taste—”

I kissed him again, desperate for more. Part of me trembled at the risk he was taking, at the thought that we might be caught.

The rest of me trembled for other reasons.

Keir shifted me then, lifting me a bit higher, and carried me over to the bank where my clothing lay. He placed me on the grass, and stood before me, gently stroking my cheek. “There’s not much time, Lara. We—”