“Warprize.”

I found the strength to open my eyes to see Isdra kneeling next to me. Epor’s dagger was in her hand. My eyes focused on the bright reflections dancing on the blade.

“I’m ready, Isdra.”

She gave me a sad smile, and a nod. I closed my eyes as I felt her hand on my arm, and tilted my head to expose my neck. Gracious Lady of the Moon and Stars, full of glo—

Except Isdra had other plans.

The blade sliced the binding that tied me to the windlass. She had me tossed over her shoulder and the babe’s basket in her hand before I understood what she was about.

The flames were rising all around us, crackling at the dry wood, sparks jumping to the sky. Smoke was filling the air. I was gasping from the smoke and the realization that I was still alive when Isdra spun on her heels and ran for the main gate.

“Isdra, NO!” I cried out, struggling against her hold, beating on her back with my bound hands. She didn’t understand the risks, she had to stop. Isdra grunted when I struck, but her pace never faltered.

The gate must have been open, for she took me through it with ease. The light of the flames was replaced by a cool, velvety darkness. I couldn’t see for a moment, but I didn’t have to.

Keir was there.

All I could see was the ground, and Isdra’s legs through blurry eyes. But I sensed him, standing there, waiting just beyond the gate. I blinked through the sweat as he took me from Isdra’s shoulder and held me in his arms. For a timeless moment I rejoiced at the feel of his body as he drew me in close. Joy filled me at the sight of his face, but only for a brief instant before horror followed in its wake. “What are you doing?” I whispered.

Keir didn’t answer, just looked at me, a strange light flickering over his stone face.

“Oh no, no, Keir, beloved, why?” The sickness in my heart had nothing to do with the fever that racked my frame.

The light came from torches that Marcus was holding, one in each hand. Isdra had put the basket down and was dragging brush in front of the gates. Keir moved back a few steps as Marcus began to set fire to the tinder.

The babe fussed, and Isdra saw to her before she took the other torch from Marcus and moved off to fire more brush that was off to the sides. Even in my fevered state I could see that tinder had been set along the length of the walls.

Frantic, I struggled to get Keir to release me, but he just tightened his hold. His strong arms didn’t budge, impervious to my struggles. “No, Keir, don’t do this.” I tried to push at him with my bound hands. “I wanted you safe, please, please—”

“Hush.” His voice was soft, but firm. He tucked my head under his chin. I sagged against his chest, taking comfort from his strength for just a moment. But guilt and anger made me renew my struggle. He didn’t understand the danger, didn’t know what he was doing.

“Hush,” he repeated, his voice warm and solid in my ear. His grip tightened to hold me still. “Save your strength, Lara. Fight the enemy, not me.”

I cursed him then, using every phrase and word I could think of.

“What does she say?” Marcus’s questions made me realize I was yelling in Xyian. I slumped back, all my strength spent, struggling to catch my breath. The heat of the flames, of Keir, no, of my own body was building and I burned. I put my head back against Keir’s chest, too exhausted to even weep.

“She is displeased.” Keir’s voice was dry. “Isdra, report.”

The voices around me continued as we moved. I wasn’t strong enough to care. Everyone in the village had died, and now Keir had condemned himself and Marcus.

Isdra’s voice rose and fell as we moved. I could feel Keir’s muscles tense, holding me tight as he covered the ground with his long stride. The scent of his skin eased my headache. His voice would reverberate in my ear as he questioned Isdra, but I couldn’t concentrate enough to understand what they were saying. Just as well, I didn’t really want to hear a retelling of events or of the deaths. I kept my eyes closed so that I couldn’t see Keir’s face as he learned of my failure.

Then we were within a tent, and I was lowered onto a bed. Warm hands moved over me. I opened my eyes to see Keir beside me. Isdra was still talking, repeating the portion of her tale that spoke of the steps I had taken with my patients.

“Lotus? You are sure it was lotus?”

I jerked at the sound of Gils’s voice. It couldn’t be, and yet when I slowly turned my head, he was there, with his red hair and gangly arms, with healing supplies on a table next to him and a very determined look on that freckled face.

“No…” I whispered, and turned back as Keir removed my boots. “Oh, Keir, why have you done this? Why?”

Keir looked up, his eyes glittering. “I will not lose you, Lara.” His voice was strong and urgent. “Fight this, Lara. Fight for me. For us.”

A sound came from Isdra, and I shared her grief at hearing the same words she’d spoken to Epor but hours ago. I looked at her with eyes clouded with tears and sweat. “Isdra, why? Why do this?”

“My Warlord commands, and I obey.”

Anguished, I dropped my aching head to my chest and let a sob escape me. Keir knelt down beside me, and cut the binding on my wrists. “Oh Keir, you should have listened. You stupid man.”

But Keir simply continued to undress me. “I listened, Lara. Iften has charge of the army, and they are about a mile off. We will remain isolated from them. We will care for you until you are well enough to continue to the Plains. All will be well, fire of my heart.”

“Drink this.”

I looked into Gil’s face. He stood there with a cup, trying to look so firm and competent. As I had felt the first time I’d dealt with a patient by myself. I licked my dry lips, looked at the cup, and then back at his youthful face.

“It’s lotus.” He gave me the best stern look he had. “Drink.”

I raised a trembling hand but Keir took the cup, sat next to me and urged me to drink. Not that it took much urging. I welcomed the drowsiness that the lotus would bring. As soon as the cup was empty, Keir finished stripping me, and urged me flat on the bed beneath a rough blanket. “She’s sweating, Gils.”

“I will see to her.” Gils replied, the barest trace of trembling in his voice. “We will need more water.”

“The stream is close. We can get more easily.” Marcus answered, gathering a few buckets. He paused to look at me with concern. “If the Sweat is as bad as you say, maybe we should cut her hair. It will be hard to keep clean, and will tangle.”

“No,” Keir answered softly. He was beside me, running his fingers through my hair, pulling it off my face. “No need. I’ll braid it for her. I’ll not see it cut.”

Marcus snorted, and left the tent. Isdra followed, but not before I caught a glimpse of her face, and saw her naked grief. Gils was busy getting his cloths ready. I stared up at Keir as he worked his fingers through my hair, and cradled my head in his hand. His fingers gently massaged my scalp, easing the headache even further. Or maybe it was the lotus starting to take effect. I seemed to be floating slightly, but I wanted to tell him. Sorrow filled my heart, and my eyes welled with tears. I’d killed him, my strong, handsome lover, killed him with my pride and arrogance. I reached out blindly, and felt his cool hand grasp mine. I concentrated, trying to focus as he lowered his face to mine. “Lara?”

“It’s all my fault.” I whispered carefully. “I’m so sorry, so sorry.”

“Lara,” his voice was soft and urgent, but the lotus pulled me away.

“Papa? Papa!” It was so hot, so dark, where was Papa? The garden was withered and the sun seared my skin. I ran along the path, trying to find Papa. Xymund was behind me, so angry, so furious. He was going to kill me. I cried as he caught me, and struck out at my attacker. Papa’s voice cut through the fire, but he wasn’t talking to me, wouldn’t hold me. What had I done, that he was angry with me ?