His head snapped up, eyes wide. He stared at me in the dim light, then joy flooded his face, and he grabbed my hand. “Lara?”

I tried to smile, but it became a yawn instead.

“My heart’s fire.” Keir’s voice was soft, and I blinked at him. “Are you well?”

My curiosity forced me to make an effort to talk. “How… long?”

He stroked my hand, gently. “Three days.”

I stared at him, trying to make sense of the images and memories in my mind. It was all so jumbled.

There was a sound of someone stirring, but I couldn’t lift my head to look. Marcus moved into my line of sight, with Gils right behind, looking anxious. When he saw that I was conscious, his face split into a toothy grin.

“How?” I whispered.

Keir glanced at the others. “We were losing you. Gils came up with an idea, to place you in the stream to quench the fire within.”

“You… were… chanting.”

Keir nodded. “A ritual. We wanted you to be prepared if…” Keir’s voice cracked and he swallowed hard.

Marcus cleared his throat. “For mercy, Lara. If the stream had not returned you to us, we were prepared to grant you mercy.”

I looked into Keir’s face, so tired, so full of pain. “Oh, my Keir.”

He crawled onto the bed, and pulled me into his arms, which trembled even as they crushed me close. Voices spoke, but it was too much effort to try to understand. I closed my eyes, let my head rest on Keir’s chest and concentrated on breathing, content. It was so comfortable to be held, listening to the rapid beat of his heart.

Eventually, Keir eased me back, supporting my head and neck, and a cup of cool water was placed at my lips. I swallowed gratefully. It was replaced by a bowl, and I recognized the scent of the broth that Marcus makes so well. I managed a few sips, to the delight of someone.

Then someone put a dose of fever’s foe in my mouth and I crinkled my nose, recognizing the taste as it flooded my throat. I heard Marcus snort. “Don’t like the taste of your own, eh?”

Keir chuckled, and I pulled my eyes open again to focus on him. He still looked tired, but the crinkles at the corners of his eyes were back. I took a deep breath, and then made a face. He leaned in, “What is it, Lara?”

I had to take a deep breath to get the words out in a croak. “You stink.”

The laugh burst from him, his entire body shaking, and he pulled me in, holding me tight to his chest. “Ah, my Lara.” He lowered me down to the bedding, eyes bright with what looked like tears. “I suppose I do, at that.”

“She’ll sleep now.” Marcus growled. “Gils and I will watch over her. You need to care for yourself. I’ll have food ready when you’re done.”

Keir made as if to protest, but I frowned at him. He sat back with a sigh. “Fair enough.” He reached over and stroked my cheek with his hand. I closed my eyes at his touch, and fell back into sleep between one breath and the next.

The fever had broken, but the lethargy held me in its grasp. I lay in the tent for the next day, with barely the energy to draw breath.

Gils kept forcing liquids into me, regularly appearing with a cup of sweet, cold water, or a bowl of Marcus’s broth. At first I was eager, since I was wrung dry by the fever. But after a while, it was an effort to drink and swallow, more exhaustion than inability. Keir was beside me constantly, bracing my head, encouraging me to drink. I slept more often than not, awakening to a cup or a bowl.

As my exhaustion continued everyone’s faces grew grim. They were worried, and had I the strength, I’d have been as well. But with each passing moment, the life seemed to fade from my body, bit by bit after the last bout of fever.

“Out.”

I opened my eyes to find Marcus shooing Keir and Is-dra from the tent. Keir made as if to protest, but Marcus cut him off. “She’ll feel better for a bath. The young’un is all the help I need, and none of your prying eyes.”

“We’ll help.” Keir frowned.

“No such thing,” Marcus insisted. “Go out and do something useful.”

“What?”

Marcus threw up his hands. “Chop wood. Carry water. Sharpen your sword. Anything to get you out from underfoot.”

Keir made a growling noise, but he and Isdra cleared out of the tent. Marcus and Gils fussed for a bit, with Gils going to fetch a bucket of warm water. I appreciated his efforts to honor my ‘shyness’, although I wasn’t sure there was a point to it anymore. Everyone had seen me in all my glory at some point. But I couldn’t even muster the energy to be embarrassed.

Marcus moved to the side of the bed, and pulled back the bedding. “We’ll wash your hair, Lara. You will feel better, yes?”

The idea had appeal, but I’d no energy to contribute to the effort. I sighed as Marcus helped me roll closer to the side of the bed. He must have heard me, since he made the same kind of soothing sound that I’d heard Isdra use on the babe. I smiled weakly, even as he beat a gentle rhythm on my back, just as Isdra had done.

I coughed.

Pain gripped my chest, and I went into a spasm of coughing, a horrible deep racking sound. It left me gasping, hanging over the edge of the bed, trying to clear my throat. Marcus was holding me, calling frantically for Keir and Gils. I stared at the mess I’d made, and gasped for air, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Keir and Gils came running in, demanding an explanation. Marcus sputtered an apology, even as he tried to push me onto my back. But I resisted, sure that I knew what was happening. The fluids were in my chest. Building slowly, instead of sweating out, drowning me. The exhaustion had masked it, but Marcus had…

“Again. Do that again.” My voice wasn’t more than a rasp, but it cut through the babble about me. Keir had his arms about me, and Marcus was pale as a cloud.

“What did you do?” Keir asked sharply.

“I drummed her. I thought to offer comfort…”

“Again.” I struggled in Keir’s arms. “Do it again.”

“It hurts you,” Marcus objected.

“Have to…” I coughed again.

Gils knelt by the bed. “She’s purging her body of the bad water, when she coughs. Is that right, Warprize?”

I nodded. “Again.”

Marcus flinched back, but Keir adjusted his hold on my body. “I’ll do it.” His warm hand gently tapped on my back.

It worked, although I almost wished it hadn’t. The cough was harsh and rough, and my chest ached. Gils wanted to give me one of my cough remedies, but everything in my supplies would sooth the cough, not encourage it.

We settled into a routine of having someone drum my back every hour. That gave me time to recover enough for the next bout. With every session, I could feel an improvement in my well-being. But it was an agony, and Keir took to bribing me with treats to get me to cooperate. Not that there were many treats to be had in our little camp. But I took great pleasure in watching him play with the babe, making faces and silly noises. Odd how a Warlord, so fierce in combat, could make a baby coo.

“Letters have come. From Water’s Fall.”

I looked over at him, standing in the entrance of the tent. He seemed pleased with himself for some reason. Marcus was behind him.

“They threw them to us, Lara, so no contact, as I promised. Gils is trying to read Simus’s for us.” He moved closer, pulling back my bedding. “But first you must cough.”

“I’m so tired, Keir.”

“I know. But each time there’s less pain, less water. You are doing better.” Keir opened his arms and I moved into them. He helped me into position, and I rested my head on his chest for just a moment, enjoying his strength. He paused, and pressed me close to his heart.

“You’re still well?” I asked, worried that he’d start to sicken before my eyes.

“We are all well, Lara.” Keir’s hand rubbed a warm circle on my back. “Marcus, Isdra, the babe, Gils, we are all well. Stop fretting so.”

With that, he started to drum my back, and I began to cough. Maybe it was his warmth, or his soft words of encouragement but this time seemed easier than the others, and it was over quickly. Marcus came in to help settle me back into the bed. Keir eased in behind me, to help prop me up, and Marcus fussed over the bedding.