The sound of our voices had attracted attention. Marcus came into the tent, with Gils peeking around the flap. Isdra stood behind them, considering us carefully, a serious look on her face.

“You survived. Isdra and the babe survived. We are well.” Keir threw his head back, his nostrils flaring. “I will not be denied in this, Warprize.”

I struggled to get out of the bed, but the blankets defeated me. Marcus moved to my side, but I was so agitated that I fought him off. My anger flared for the first time in days. “You stupid man. Why am I here, if you won’t listen to me?”

That was a mistake. Keir’s face closed. “You are here because you will bring the gift of healing to my people.”

I sucked in a breath, bit my lip, then lashed out. “So the very thing that I bring to your people is what you ignore. If you do this, it will bring only death.”

Keir glared. “Rest. Gather your strength. Tomorrow night I will give the orders. We leave on the morning after next.” He stomped out of the tent, practically tearing the flap from the tent as he left.

The fight fled my body and I grabbed at Marcus’s arms to support myself. “Marcus, he can’t mean it. Can he?”

Marcus eased me down. “Hisself is determined, Warprize.”

Gils crept into the tent, avoiding my eyes. Isdra came in, bringing the sleeping babe. She sat on the edge of the bed, and showed her to me. “She does well, Lara.”

“It takes time to know that the illness is gone.” Worried as I was, I smiled to see the babe’s sweet sleeping face. Isdra lay the child on the bed next to me. “She’s thriving, that’s true. With a strange fondness for gurt.”

Isdra nodded. “She’ll need to be marked soon.”

“Tattooed?” I looked at her in horror.

Gils laughed. “Not one so young, Warprize. We use a stain to mark babes with their tribe.”

“You must design a mark for your tribe, Lara.” Isdra seemed to be studying the floor of the tent. “The tribe of Xy. The Elders will require such before our blood combines in children.” Isdra stood abruptly. “I have some things to see to, Warprize. I will leave the child with you.”

I smiled. “Of course, Isdra. I am well tended here.”

She gave me an odd look. “That you are, Lara.”

Needless to say, the air in the tent had turned frigid since Keir and I had argued. Gils was very clever in avoiding any contact with Keir and I, especially when our tempers flared, and flare they did over the course of the evening. Marcus just grumped at both of us. Isdra kept her distance as well. I wasn’t so occupied with arguing with Keir that I didn’t notice the distant expression on her face. I thought she was thinking on Epor’s death, and Keir’s folly, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Later the next day Isdra walked into the tent, her face so sorrowful, it scared me. She looked different somehow, but it was the reaction of the others that brought me up short. Keir sat up a bit straighter, and Marcus stopped what he was doing. Gils looked up from the book of herbs that I had him studying and closed it slowly. At their reactions I looked again. Isdra wasn’t wearing any weapons or armor, just a plain tunic and trous. Although she carried Epor’s warclub in one hand, she looked naked to me, as if the warrior had been stripped away somehow to reveal the vulnerable woman underneath. She looked at each of us in turn, then focused on Keir. “Warlord.”

“Warrior.”

“It is time, Warlord. Past time. I’ve completed our tasks, Epor’s and mine.”

Keir stood. “A task well done, Isdra of the Fox. I thank you for your service, and wish you well.”

I looked from one to the other, puzzled. “What’s going on? Are you leaving, Isdra?”

Isdra looked at me, but then looked back at Keir. “I’d ask that you give this to Prest, Warlord. He’ll wield it with honor.” She held out Epor’s warclub.

Keir stepped forward, and took the weapon with a nod. My heart started to pound in my chest. “Isdra?”

“Safe journey to the snows, Isdra.” Marcus spoke softly. “And beyond.” The sorrow in his face and eye reflected hers.

Gils stood as well, his face a mask of stoic pain.

“No.” I cried out, certain now what she intended. I pushed the blankets off my legs and tried to stand. “No, Isdra, you can’t.” I stood, swaying and reached a trembling hand toward her.

Isdra stepped up to grasp my fingers. “Warprize, I’ve seen to your safety. Epor awaits, and I’m eager to join him.” She hugged me tight. “Lara, this is our way. Try to understand and accept.”

I pushed her back, holding on to her arms for support. “No, I don’t accept it. Keir, tell her not to do this. Command her—”

“Lara.”

I looked over my shoulder to find Keir shaking his head. “In matters of bonding, I cannot command.” His gaze flicked over to Marcus then back to me. “The choice is hers and hers alone.”

I turned back to her. “Then choose to stay. I need you, Isdra.” A soft cry rose from the blankets, which caught my attention and hers. “The babe needs you, too.”

With a patient look, Isdra gripped my forearms and lowered me to the bed. “Lara, you are well cared for, as will be the babe.”

“I am the Warprize. I can—”

“You cannot.” Isdra stood. “None have the right to interfere in a bonding, Lara. Not even a Warprize.” She took a step back, and bowed her head to Keir. “Warlord.”

“Warrior.”

Isdra turned, but before I could protest, the tent flap opened. Chill air flowed into the tent and Joden appeared, his broad face grim.

Keir spoke first. “Joden? What is wrong?”

“The plague. It’s in the camp.”

My father loved to dance. On impulse, he’d command the musicians to play, and would join the lords and ladies in cavorting around the throne room, anything from a stately promenade to a sprightly jig. One of his favorite dances was where everyone held position when the music stopped unexpectedly. It reduced his normally stuffy court to giggles and guffaws when they tried to keep still until the music started again. Due to Father’s illness, and my less than popular position at court under my brother’s rule, I hadn’t seen that dance in years. But that was the memory that swirled in my head when we all froze as Jo-den’s words sunk in.

Keir was the first to react, sweeping up his swords and strapping on the harnesses. “Horses?”

“Outside.” Joden stepped further into the tent. “Enough for all.”

“We’ll go.” Keir jerked a blanket from his bedroll and moved to my side. He snapped the blanket out, and wrapped it around my shoulders. I stared at him, numbed at the idea that this might have made its way to the camp, but he gave me no chance to speak.

“I’s got the supplies.” Gils started packing even as Marcus moved toward the babe.

Keir had me bundled up and in his arms before I could say a word. I wrapped my arms around his neck and used them to pull myself higher so that I could look over his shoulder. “Isdra?”

As if my voice had cut off the music, everyone froze again.

Isdra stood in the center of the tent, weaponless, looking naked and vulnerable. I’d never seen such pain as I did on her face. She was torn right in two, longing pulling her in both directions. She hesitated, licking her lips, indecisive for the first time since I had met her. Joden’s face held a puzzled look as his eyes took in the scene, until a brief look around the tent answered his unspoken question. He closed his eyes in pain, and the loss of Epor stabbed at my heart all over again.

In that suspended moment, Keir’s lips brushed my ear with the barest of whispers. “I can’t ask. You can.” He turned slightly so that I faced Isdra.

“Isdra.” I made my voice firm. “I need you. You’ve been through this, can speak of it to the others. I need you to stay. Please.”

The pain was still in her eyes, but the uncertainty vanished. “For now, Warprize.”