Prest spoke from behind us. “I’ll wake Gils.”

“Iften must be told as well.” Keir’s voice was rough. I looked at him in horror, but he frowned at me. “With Simus gone, he is Second. He will have command.”

With a nod, Prest left the tent.

“Should have killed him when he challenged.” Marcus grumbled, working at the other boot.

“Who’s to say that would have been best?” Keir sighed and closed his eyes. I moved closer and placed my hand on his shoulder. He looked up at me. “Lara, I heard. About the babe.” His eyes crinkled slightly in the corners. “So now you raise the dead?”

I shook my head, choking on my tears. How could he jest when—

Keir continued, clearing his throat, trying to strengthen his voice. “We must discuss what happens in the event that—”

“Nothing is going to happen to you.” I snapped, cutting him off. “If Meara can live through this, you can.”

Keir chuckled at that, but I wasn’t laughing. My fingers trembled as I unbuckled his armor.

“The best of warlords plan for all possibilities.” He paused for a moment, gathering strength. “I will plan for the worst, yes? Then it will not happen.”

I pulled his tunic over his head. His head emerged, that dark hair all rumpled and mussed. I ran my fingers through it, feeling the heat of his damp scalp. He grabbed my hand and held it to his cheek. “If it turns to the worst, I want you to leave this camp before I draw my last breath.”

“I will not leave you.” I whispered.

“Stubborn. So very stubborn.” He closed his eyes for a moment, rubbing his cheek against my palm.

“Your head hurts.” I leaned forward, seeing the pain in the lines etched on his face. He murmured agreement softly.

“We’ll get you into bed and get you some sleepease. It will help with the headache.”

“Not until I have spoken with Iften and Isdra.” Keir tried to raise himself up, to help Marcus remove his trous, but his arms trembled with the effort. Marcus made no comment, merely went about his business. When all was done, I lifted the bedding and Keir settled back, his hands reaching to place his weapons at hand.

Before I could say anything, Marcus covered Keir’s hand with his own. Keir’s face held a particular look of pain as he realized what had to be done. Marcus murmured something I didn’t catch, and Keir seemed reassured, pulling his hand away from the swords. Those blue eyes, cloudy with fever, watched as Marcus left the tent.

Keir looked at me with a grimace. “You must restrain me.”

I sat at the side of the bed, and put the back of my hand against his forehead. The heat was starting to rise. “Not just yet, Keir.”

Keir brought one bare arm out from under the covers and curled it around me, trying to pull me down onto his chest. I went willingly, taking comfort from his closeness.

“So. You are cursed.”

The smug voice came from behind us. I turned my head to see Iften standing there behind me, Isdra and Gils just visible behind him. Isdra was glaring at the back of Iften’s head, and Gils did not appear to be pleased with him either. I stood slowly, feeling uneasy with my back to the man. Iften stood there and oozed his glee, making no secret of his pleasure at Keir’s condition.

Keir had his eyes closed, his hair plastered to his head. He didn’t bother to open his eyes. “Iften. You have command until I am through this.”

“But not the tent.” Marcus growled as he entered from his quarters, bring a bucket of cold water, and cloths.

Iften shot him a hateful look. “As if I need the tent, crip—” He cut himself off, then—pasted a satisfied smile on his face. “Have no fear, Warlord. I will summon the warleaders and inform them of this.” He turned, and moved to push past Isdra.

“Hold, Iften.” I snapped. How dare he treat Keir that way?

Iften stopped, then turned slowly. “Yes?”

“You may summon them, but I will speak to them for Keir.”

Iften’s brown eyes flashed. “I am Second.”

I drew myself up straight, and gave him a glare right back. “I am the Warprize, Iften.”

Iften’s eyes were filled with hate, but he bowed his head, turned and left, pushing past the others.

“May the elements afflict him.” Marcus muttered.

Isdra nodded her agreement as she and Gils entered. Gils was fumbling in his satchel, pulling out the items that we would need.

“This is not an affliction. Or a curse.” I reminded him gently. “It’s an illness.” The cold cloth in my hand, I sat back down and began to wipe Keir’s brow.

Keir turned his head and opened his eyes to look at me, catching my hand. “Singers will praise my Warprize for a thousand years to come.” His eyes were shining with the fever.

Guilt rose in my breast. It was more likely I’d be known as the woman who killed an entire village and army with her arrogance and pride. “No. No, they won’t.”

Gils handed me the cup with the dose of sleepease, but Keir pushed it away, and turned to Isdra. “I have no right to ask this of you, but I am going to. Not as Warlord, but as a friend. Please—”

“There is no need to ask.” Isdra cut him off, putting her hand on her sword hilt. “I will see her safe before I go to the snows.”

“As will I.” Marcus added.

“As will I.” Gils echoed, his voice cracking. Keir looked at him oddly. “No, Warlord, I do understand. Better than you think.”

Keir nodded. “My thanks.” Nothing more was said, but I let my confusion go as Keir reached for the cup with shaking hands. I helped him, and he drank it quickly, grimacing at the taste. Something about that teased at my memory as he smiled at me and spoke.

“I will fight this.”

The bile rose in my throat as he repeated Epor’s very words. I jerked my head up, meeting Isdra’s eyes, which held the same horror that mine did. But the others did not know and I managed to control my face before they could see.

Keir was relaxing, letting the sleepease do its work. “Warprize.”

I leaned over him. “Keir?”

“As Warlord, and Overlord of Xy, I command your obedience to my will. Return to Water’s Fall.”

I lowered my lips to his ear. “My heart’s fire, there is only one way to make me obey your command.”

He turned his head slightly, his eyes unfocused. But I could see the question in his eyes.

“Live.”

That heady feeling of command that I’d had a few days before had been replaced with bone-chilling terror. The warleaders, or their representatives, were looking to me to make decisions that affected an entire army. I felt the weight of that responsibility press down on me, knowing for the first time the burden Keir carried with him every day. I’d asked Joden to attend as well, hoping that his presence would help. But he stood to the side, and kept his eyes fixed on the ground before him.

The wind blew my hair into my face, and I pulled it back with one hand. We were outside the command tent, standing in a loose circle, as many as could gather. Iften stood to the side. Prest was behind me, as was Isdra. I’d insisted that we meet here, because I didn’t want Keir disturbed, nor did I want him to try to participate. He needed every bit of strength to fight his battles with the sickness. Marcus remained with Keir.

I was frozen with fear, standing before them. My teeth wanted to worry my lower lip, but I stopped myself. I needed to be confident and strong before these warleaders. Or, at least, to look the part. Why hadn’t I asked Marcus who to trust, or paid more attention during the senels Keir had called?

I’d managed to convince the Council of Xy that being Warprize was best for my country and myself. But I’d understood the motives and desires of the Council mem-bers, and managed to learn enough, fast enough, to make a strong argument. But I felt lost in this military setting. What did I know about the command structure, or who did what? I cursed myself for a fool, and vowed to pay more attention in the future.