“I can think of a way to pass the time.” His blue eyes gleamed, and he kissed me.

They were long, slow kisses that left me moaning. Try as I might, I couldn’t get him to hurry. I shifted my legs within the confines of the dress and the soft fabric slipped over my skin. “Keir,” I begged.

His fingers tugged at the next bit of lacings as his fingertips caressed the skin below. “So when I reach the end, and slowly pull your dress down, your breasts will be taut, and eager for my touch.” Keir licked just below my ear, and I shuddered. “And when my hand slips under your dress, I will find you warm and ready.” There was such satisfaction in his rough tone, a certain arrogance. I blinked at him, dazed with passion. His eyes were blazing, bright blue in his bronzed face. “Thus do I claim my Warprize.”

I moaned again, and closed my eyes, surrendering to the pleasure of his touch. But just before I lost myself, I remembered.

Thank you, Goddess . . . Lady of the Moon and Stars, thank you.

I awoke in the morning, feeling wonderful. Warm and safe, spooned against Keir, his arm over my waist. There were faint sounds from outside. Horses perhaps. The distant sound of someone working around a fire. That had to be Marcus, seeing to our meal. I lifted my head, and took a deep breath. Marcus was making bread tarts.

My stomach rumbled.

Carefully, I eased out of Keir’s arms and reached for his cloak. I’d wrap up just long enough to get some thing from Marcus, and crawl back into bed with Keir. As I tied it at the neck, I smiled to see him sprawled over the bed, sleeping. Seems I’d worn my Warlord out the night before. I smiled even wider to see those white trous cling to his skin. Perhaps I could persuade him to take them off for me.

After I got some food.

I stepped out onto the flattened grass, and looked about. We were along the shore, a fair distance from the Heart. I couldn’t see any movement in that direction. To my right, I could see a far smaller tent set up by the shore. That had to be Marcus’s. There were horses there as well, grazing. One of them, a brown one, lifted his head and neighed a welcome. It was sure to be Greatheart.

I started walking in that direction, clutching the cloak to me, and watching where I put my feet. There was a path of flattened grass that I followed, between the tufts of taller grasses. It wouldn’t do to cut my feet on anything. I’d never hear the end of that from Marcus. Or Keir, for that matter.

Marcus emerged from his small tent, and saw me coming. He waved in recognition, but started to work on some pans at the fire pit. I quickened my step, lured by the promise of warm bread tarts. The air was crisp, and the sun had not yet warmed the earth. I really should have put on my slippers, but the grass was soft enough.

Marcus straightened as I approached, a pleased look on his face as I walked up to his fire. “Kavage, Warprize?” His voice was low. “The bread tarts will be done in a moment.”

I nodded. “And gurt, if you have some.” I moved to stand in the area that had been cleared between the fire and the tall grasses. “Keir’s still asleep.”

“No harm there,” Marcus noted. He moved about the fire, and reached for the kavage pot. “Hisself could use the—”

The grass behind him rustled with movement.

With no other warning, Iften leapt out, armored, with a dagger in his hand, soaking wet, and covered in dirt and grass. Before I could even react, he lunged at Marcus from his blindspot.

Frozen, I watched in horror as Iften plunged his dagger into Marcus’s side. For one long horrible moment we stood, silent and stock-still. Iften jerked his blade free, and time flowed once again.

Marcus clutched at his side. He staggered back from the fire, managing a harsh whisper before he collapsed. “Run!”

I ran, screaming Keir’s name.

Iften lunged for me, his hand reaching out for the hem of the cloak. He caught it and jerked. I stumbled back, jerking the cloth from his hand. But he was now between me and the tent where Keir lay. Iften’s teeth gleamed as he snarled in satisfaction, his lips stained with brown spittle.

I darted off, straight away from the shore. The cloak flared out, the ties pressing into my throat. I risked a backward glance to see Iften’s fingers just miss the hem. I used what spare breath I had for another scream, a warning to Keir. But the only response came from behind, an answering cry from one of the horses.

Iften hit me then, and bore me down to the ground. I rolled, coming up with my face to the sky, with Iften trying to pin me to the ground. He sat on my hips, and pinned my right arm under his knee, pressing it into the dirt. The cloak had fallen open. I was naked and that made his touch seem even more revolting.

My breath fled as his full weight came to bear on me. I had one hand free, but Iften grabbed it with his crippled one. There was still strength in that hand. I struggled to pull free as he waved the dagger before me, still dripping with Marcus’s blood.

“So now, Xyian,” he hissed, his eyes the merest pinpricks. “I save the Plains and my people.” Iften raised the dagger to strike, aiming for my chest.

Something thundered up from behind him. Iften hesitated for but an instant, but it was long enough—

Long enough for Greatheart to appear, and bite deep into Iften’s shoulder.

Iften screamed in rage, his dagger falling from his fingers.

My horse, my sleepy old brown horse, almost seemed to growl, and then wrenched Iften off me with a jerk of his head. Iften was dragged back, far enough that I was freed. I fumbled for the dagger and scram bled to my feet to see Greatheart swing Iften off in a half circle, so that the horse ended up between me and my attacker.

Greatheart released his hold and danced back, snorting and tossing his head. Iften’s face was a grimace as he came to his feet. Cursing, he reached, and pulled out a sword. He took a few steps in my direction, but Greatheart snapped at him, then neighed in defiance.

There was an answering roar from the direction of our tent as Keir emerged, running at full speed.

Iften’s attention shifted then. Cursing, he unstrapped a shield from his back, and jammed his crippled arm into the straps. Keir raced over the grass, swords in both hands, clothed in naught but white trous.

In horror I watched, clutching my cloak around me as I realized that Iften was armored, and that Keir had none. But Keir never paused in his charge. He closed in, swiping at Iften with first one blade then another.

Iften dodged, using the shield to fend off the second attack. He grinned, and there was madness in his eyes.

Keir stood there, eyes cold, swords poised before him. His chest heaved, the bruise on his shoulder still evident. Iften’s muscles twitched, his teeth bared, glaring at Keir. For an endless moment, they circled one another in silence, graceful and deadly.

Keir attacked.

Iften parried the blows with his shield, giving some ground before lunging forward with his own blade. Keir evaded it and once again they faced each other, each waiting for the other to make a move.

I gripped the dagger in my hand underneath the cloak, but I knew better than to try to interfere. Marcus had taught me to stay out of the—

Marcus. I looked back toward his tent, but I could see no sign of him. The clang of swords drew my eyes back to the fight. Greatheart still danced between me and the warriors, almost as if he was trying to herd me away.

Iften raged like fire; Keir was cold as ice. I caught my breath when I saw Keir’s eyes, intent on his opponent. There’d be no mercy here, no talk. This would only end with Iften’s death, even if Keir died with him. I swallowed any protest, any warning. There was no point.

Keir’s jaw was clenched as his swords moved in front of him, almost daring Iften to charge him. Iften was cagy, advancing with his shield held high, trying to get close enough to jab. Greatheart neighed a warning. The big horse charged past me, behind me—