I turned, to see two warrior-priests, a man and a woman, emerging from the waters of the lake, scrambling onto the shore.

I froze, terrified. Time seemed to slow.

They moved fast, their matted braids swaying as they ran toward me. Dressed only in their tattoos and leather trous, the water poured off them and the blades of the daggers they held.

Greatheart was past me and headed for them, bellowing his challenge.

They split, darting each to a side. Greatheart followed the man.

The woman headed for me.

Air rushed into my lungs, but I stood frozen, my cloak gaping open in the front. Her teeth flashed, for I was alone and naked, an easy kill for a warrior. She trotted toward me, her blade ready, her eyes gleaming out from the tattoos that covered her face. Eyes filled with confidence and victory.

In that instant, rage flooded through me.

I heard Keir screaming behind me as he realized my danger, heard a wet ‘thunk’ as Greatheart reared up and kicked his foe in the head. But my focus was on my attacker, and the anger that filled me.

She was going to kill my baby.

She took a few steps closer to me, then paused, almost as if she bore good news. “You meet your death well, Xyian,” she laughed. “I grant you—

I brought Iften’s dagger out from under my cloak, and rammed the blade into her throat.

She was startled, too surprised to use the last moments of her life to attack me.

Dancing back out of reach, I pulled the blade with me.

She gasped, dropping her knife and falling to her knees. I took a few more steps back and watched calmly as she put her hands to her throat to try to stop the blood. My healer’s knowledge told me it wouldn’t aid her.

Nothing could.

As she crumpled to the grass, I turned to see that Greatheart had the man down and under his hooves. My old sleepy warhorse was making sure of that threat by trampling the body to a pulp.

I moved further away from the dying warrior-priestess and focused on Keir.

He’d tried to come to my aid, but Iften had blocked his move. They both realized that I was safe in the same moment, and Iften howled out in anger and frustration. Keir snarled, and the battle between them was rejoined. But now there was a new desperation in Iften’s eyes as they clashed. Even as I wondered how long this could go on, Iften charged Keir, trying to ram him with the shield. Keir dodged out of the way, but as Iften turned to face him again, Keir struck his shield, his sword biting deep. The blade caught in the wood.

Iften whooped in triumph, bringing his sword to bear. Keir blocked with his free sword and then twisted the other.

Twisting Iften’s arm.

The bone broke, a clear snap. The shield dropped to his side and Iften’s howl became one of pain as he staggered back. Keir let go the trapped sword, and swung the free one up. There was a spray of blood as it caught Iften’s neck; his eyes bulged. He dropped his sword and lifted his hand to his neck, as if to stop the flow.

Keir plunged his sword deep into Iften’s chest, and withdrew it in one swift move. A few staggered steps, and Iften collapsed at Keir’s feet.

“Keir!” I ran a few steps toward him, but Keir shook his head. I stopped, waiting, trying to catch my breath. Keir stood over Iften, breathing hard, his sword steady. A thin stream of red ran down the blade, falling on Iften’s body.

Iften was face up, his eyes open.

I held my hands to my chest, feeling my heart pounding within. “Is he?”

Keir waited a moment longer. Slowly, carefully he knelt next to Iften. Warily, with the other sword poised for an attack, Keir pressed his hand down hard on Iften’s chest.

I held my breath.

“Dead.” Keir’s voice held a note of satisfaction as he rose. I threw myself forward, running into arms he opened wide. Our mouths met and we kissed, desperate for each other’s touch.

Seconds later, we broke it off and I stared at him in horror. “Marcus!”

I turned and ran back toward the tent, where Marcus had fallen. Keir was just behind me. But there was no body. Just a bloody smear in the grass and a path of blood—

Headed for his tent.

I looked at Keir, almost afraid to move. His face was just as grim. He reached out and took my hand. We moved quickly, following the bloody trail. Through the grass. Through the tent flap.

Marcus was on the floor, curled on his side next to his pallet. My satchel was there, open, its contents scattered on the floor.

Keir knelt, eased Marcus over and pulled him into his arms. I dropped my dagger and threw myself down next to the little man, my hands reaching for the wound.

“W-Warprize.” Marcus’s one eye opened as he stuttered my name. He stared at me, wide-eyed, clearly in shock. His hand was pressed under his tunic, blood all around the area. His tunic was filthy, covered in dirt and grass.

“Marcus.” I reached down to peel back his hand, terrified at what I would find.

Only to stare dumbly at the crumbled mass of bloodmoss there, pressed against his side.

“I—I remembered. What you told Gils,” Marcus panted, as he moved the plant away from the site.

Horrified, I looked at the skin, a thin red scar healed tight. Bloodmoss can’t be used like that, it only seals the skin, not the organs underneath. If the dagger cut the bowel, or ...

With a trembling hand, I smeared some of the blood from his skin onto my fingertips and held it up to my nose.

It smelled clean. No taint of feces or poison. No gut wound.

With a cry of joy, I threw myself into Marcus’s arms, and started weeping.

It was the Longest Night; the night the People of the Plains gather to mourn the Dead. Wrapped in furs, I reached out for Keir’s hand and let him lead me out into the deep snows.

Back in Xy, it was the night of the Grand Wedding of the God and Goddess, the Lord of the Sun and Lady of the Moon and Stars. There, it would be feasting, and dancing, and laughter.

Not so on the Plains.

The cold took my breath away as we left the winter lodge and walked out into the dark night. The snow crunched as our boots broke the crust. Keir reached out his hand to steady me as we walked, and gestured for Rafe and Prest to lead the way. An honor to be sure, but they also broke a path through the snow. I looked over at Keir, who looked back with his eyes twinkling. He’d dressed me in warm furs, so that the cold air only touched my cheeks. Keir had tugged the hood over my hair, and made sure I was snug before he’d let me set foot outside.

A month had passed since I’d been confirmed as Warprize. The season of the great cold is not as harsh on the Plains as it is in Xy, but harsh enough. The Heart of the Plains was gone. All that was left was the great Council circle of stone. The lake had frozen over, and the people and the herds of the Plains had traveled to their winter lands.

Only Keir and I, and those who had chosen to winter with us, remained. There were a few tents still up, used as shelters during the day for those that tended the herd of horses and gurtles. But at night almost all-retreated into the winter lodges: long low shelters half buried in the earth, more caves than buildings. Apparently, west of here, there were a few lodges with hot springs, that allow some to remain close to the Heart year round. It sounded like the hot springs of Xy, the baths below the castle, and I was curious to see them.

But Keir intended that we would ride south, where the Tribe of the Cat traditionally wintered. Many of his people had elected to continue to serve him, despite the Council. We’d use the winter to consider our options.

Keir could fight to reclaim his status. Simus would certainly enter the challenges. The Warlord Liam had approached Keir to discuss offering his aid and assistance. If Liam survived the spring challenges, he’d be in a position to aid Keir. That would prevent another warlord from raiding into Xy.