Keir, shivering under the blankets, gave us that smug look again, but it faded fairly quickly.

“It’s getting worse.”

I sat on the bed, and reached to stroke his face. “Keir, you’re doing—”

“No.” He shook his head. “Each time, it gets harder to stay… I would die if I hurt you.”

I went to protest, but Marcus made the decision for me. “I’ll get Isdra.” He left the tent.

“Lara, I…” Keir swallowed hard, his eyes cloudy, looking lost.

“I’m here, beloved. You are not alone, Keir.” I turned so that I faced the entrance, and pulled him close, so that he could put his head in my lap.

With his eyes closed, he nodded. Marcus and Isdra entered, and Isdra pulled the straps from where she had hidden them. With grim expressions, they bent to their task.

Keir was right. The raving started soon after, with Keir screaming and fighting his bonds.

Marcus was asleep, and Isdra was pulling more water when I ran out of clean cloths. Keir was unconscious, the sweat starting to build again, and the scent was so rank… it only took a moment to duck out to my stilltent and return with a handful.

I returned to our sleeping area to find Iften standing over Keir, his dagger in his hand.

I dropped the cloths, too astonished to cry out.

Keir didn’t react, still unconscious, bound to the bed, helpless. Iften turned toward me, and laughed, sheathing his dagger. “You think I would advance myself through his death?”

I nodded.

He laughed again, a cruel harsh sound. “Why take that action when the elements will take it for me, eh?”

I took a step forward, my anger overruling my fear. “He is not going to die.”

“But you are not sure, are you, little healer?” He mocked me. “You, who claim the power to heal all.”

“I never claimed that, Iften.” I stepped closer to the bed, sweeping my gaze over Keir, making sure that he hadn’t been hurt. But I didn’t take my eyes off Iften for long. Oh, where was Isdra?

Iften folded his arms over his chest. “With his last breath, your status changes, Xyian. You will be as nothing to us. It will be my charge to return the army to the plains and report his failure. And in the spring, when the challenges are issued and won, I will return to this valley as Warlord, and—”

“Keir will not die. Leave us.” I was of half a mind to scream out, to attract attention. But what would they think of a Warprize cowering before him? I grit my teeth.

Iften opened his arms, as if making a peaceful gesture. “It is you that should leave. Ride out now, return to your people. All will be as it was.” His voice was smooth and sure, as if offering the friendliest of advice. “No need to place yourself in jeopardy. No need to face attacks, such as in your own marketplace. No need to face the Elders or the warrior-priests.”

His face changed, and I had to stop myself from taking a step back. “Go, Xyian. Prepare your people for the army that will come in the spring, to ravage—”

Something broke the fear inside me. With swift steps, I moved toward him, my fist raised in anger, swearing at the top of my lungs. “I curse you, bracnect. May the skies deny you breath!”

Iften’s eyes went wide, and his breath caught. His hand went to his sword hilt.

I glared at him, took another step forward and shook my fist in his face. “May the earth sink below your feet.”

There was a gasp from outside, I wasn’t sure who, but I didn’t let it stop me. “May the fire deny you heat, and the very waters of the land dry in your hand.”

Iften didn’t draw his sword. His face went pale and he stepped back quickly, stumbling out into the meeting room, heading for the main exit. As he retreated through the flap, I followed right behind. “May the very elements reject you and all that you are!”

Marcus and Joden were outside, their eyes wide as plates. Others within hearing distance turned horrified faces toward us. I just kept my eyes on Iften, and took another step to jab my finger into his chest. “May your balls rot like fruit in the sun, and your manhood wither at the root!” I spit in the earth in front of Iften’s toe.

Without another word, I stomped back into the tent.

By the time Marcus and Joden stepped into the tent, I was sitting calmly by Keir, wiping his chest down with water that I had added herbs to.

Marcus spoke first, softly. “Warprize? How did you know such a curse?”

“She overheard it?” Joden said.

“How? When? None would say it in her presence without my knowledge. And none have cursed so in this army that I have heard word of.”

I responded calmly. “I didn’t know it. I made it up. He was standing there, prating about the elements and bragging about what he was going to do and I just got so very angry.”

“A strong curse, Warprize.” Marcus’s voice carried a note of pride.

“I don’t care, so long as he stays away from me and Keir.”

Joden’s tone was dry. “No fear of that, Lara.”

“MARCUS!”

I jolted up out of my pallet from a sound sleep.

Keir had broken one strap. With his free arm, he was fighting the very man he was calling for. I stumbled up and over, and placed my hand on Keir’s forehead. Marcus was doing his best to secure the loose arm, and he grunted with the effort. I raised my voice, calling out. “We need help!”

“Help him, you maggots! It burns, oh Skies, he burns!” Keir was screaming the words, the muscles of his neck taut with the strain.

“For sure they heard that,” Marcus muttered, forcing Keir’s arm down onto the bed.

“Keir, it’s Lara. It’s all right—”

Keir strained at the strap around his other wrist, trying to break it. He cried out again, summoning unseen help. “Bring water! Douse him with water, bring buckets—” Keir relaxed for a moment, moaning as if in sorrow. “His ear, oh his ear.”

I glanced at Marcus, and knew where and when Keir was.

Keir’s voice dropped to a snarl. “Damn you to the snows forever, Warrior-Priest. He will live, and I will use my last breath to break you, do you hear me?” He threw his head back against the bed. “Heal him now, or I will kill you.”

“Is this what happened?” I whispered.

“Don’t know, Warprize. I was not aware at the time.” Marcus looked grim. “Where are those fools?” He looked toward the tent flap, then back at me. Marcus growled. “Do not dwell on it. He called me back from the snows. I answered. There is no more to say.”

“Fear the day Keir of the Cat is named Warking.” Ken-howled.

Prest, Isdra, and to my surprise, Rafe poured into the tent, with Isdra stepping forward to help Marcus. At the word ‘Warking’, all of them flinched in shock, but only for a moment. Marcus darted to Keir’s side, and put his fingers over his mouth. “Warlord, the enemy is near. Be silent.”

The others exchanged worried looks. I opened my mouth to question them, but Marcus caught my eye, and shook his head, putting a finger to his lips. So I suppressed my curiosity.

“Rafe, are you well enough to be up and about?” I asked.

“Well enough, Warprize.” He gave me a faint smile. “Seems I didn’t sicken as much as others did. Didn’t even need the aid of the lake waters.”

I frowned, considering him. He’d lost weight, and there were smudges under his eyes. He was pushing too hard, I was certain, but for now I had a greater concern.

Keir had fallen silent, still a prisoner of the fever. The others started to rebind Keir, but I stopped them. “Prest, call Gils. It’s time.”

I followed them down to the shore, the moon providing enough light to see by. Gils, Prest, Marcus and Isdra carried Keir, who struggled in their arms. Marcus had insisted that they bind Keir to take him to the water and he’d been right. They set him down on the shore to give themselves a chance to strip out of their own clothing. Once they picked him back up, I followed them right into the water, catching my breath at the bite of the cold against my skin.