“But now my people lie dead, and the smoke rises to the skies. Precious lives have been lost, and I can’t but think they are lost because Keir is trying to go against the elements themselves.”

Joden shook his head. “Keir asks that you become of the Plains, and demands that we be of Xy. No good has, or will, come of it.” Joden took a breath. “My decision is made. Excuse me, Warpr—” He stopped himself. “Excuse me, Xylara. I must tell the Warlord of my truths.” Joden’s voice was soft, but he turned and left me without another word.

I returned to my stilltent to find Isdra sitting inside, reworking the leather on the handle of Epor’s warclub. Her hands stroked the smooth leather, as if it was precious.

With leaden steps, I moved to stir the coals in one of the small braziers, adding fuel, losing myself in the task of warming kavage. I said nothing, and Isdra was silent as well, both of us lost in memories of a golden-haired man with a ready smile.

I dropped on a stump and watched the pot, numb and tired. For just a few moments, the only thing I wanted to think about was kavage. Not sickness, or challenges, or failure…

Or death.

Isdra finished the wrapping and secured the ends of the leather strip. She sat for a moment, her hands resting lightly on the weapon in her lap.

Isdra quietly started to cry.

I knelt beside her, leaned my head against her arm, and offered what comfort I could.

The rattle of the pot forced my attention back to the world around us. I poured kavage as Isdra wiped her face. She took the mug I offered, and we drank in silence.

I broke the silence. “The other day, Marcus told me ‘the sun will rise. I can offer no more, and no less’.”

“It should not.” Isdra whispered, staring into her kavage. “It should hide itself in sorrow and mourn.” She lifted her head to gaze at me. “My life is broken, yet the world goes on around me. As if it had never happened. As if he had never been.” She drew a stuttering breath. “Never to hear his voice again, or feel his touch. Not until I—”

I looked down at my hands, suddenly ashamed of what I had asked of her. “Isdra, I don’t know what to say. You are a warrior, and my guardian, and my friend.” My voice hitched, and tears welled up. “I don’t want to lose you too.”

She sat silent.

“Besides,” I tried to smile. “Who will raise Meara? Or the babe I hope to have? Who will teach them in the ways of the Plains besides you, Isdra?” I put my hand over hers. “My babe will be a child of both worlds and will need guidance in all ways.” I hadn’t thought of that before, but it was true. Any child I bore would need a thea. In my mind, I could see Anna and Isdra arguing over some point of child-rearing in the castle nursery.

Isdra’s hand moved to clasp mine. “There is that, Lara.” Her face darkened. “And my Epor to avenge.” She looked off, her eyes distant. “But there are many sunsets between now and then. Many long moments of—” she cut her words off and stood, her face taut with sorrow. “I would take my leave, Warprize.”

I stood, and watched her take up her position outside by the fire, then I turned listlessly to plop down on a stump, facing the tables with their various bottles and jars. The kavage was bitter in my mouth. But the ache in my chest grew until the grief and the guilt welled up, and fat tears started to fall, hard and fast.

I moved, pulled the flaps down and tied them closed. I had enough sense to wrap a strip of bells in one of the ties. I wanted no visitors, well or ill.

Stumbling, I crossed to the stump furthest from the door, and sat down. Through my tears, I reached for some cloths and buried my face in them. I didn’t want anyone to hear, or know. The material stifled my sobs, and I let go, releasing all the pain. I hunched over as my shoulders shook, and I cried.

I wanted Anna, wanted home, wanted Father. It was a true pain, deep in my chest, the longing to ran home. I should never have left those safe walls, never stumbled out on the road after Keir. It was all my fault, all of it, and the pain of that truth cramped my heart and closed my throat.

I pulled the cloths back just enough to suck in a deep breath, rocking a bit to ease my anguish. But the pain and horror of Epor’s final breath wouldn’t let me go, and I pressed the damp cloths against my face and moaned.

Why had I insisted that I enter the village? Why had I let Epor and Isdra go with me? My arrogance was to blame, for his death and all the others that lay burning in the ashes of the village.

It seemed as if nothing was right. Everything was tinged with a deep blackness, and I could see no hope. There was despair everywhere I looked, or turned my head, and nothing I could do would solve anything. In fact, my actions seemed only to make things worse.

Meara, that sweet child, almost lost to us in a breath, her cold toes in the palm of my hand. Gils, oh, Gils, had I ever told him how proud I was of him? He’d collapsed at my feet, convulsing helplessly, and nothing in my power could save him. Oh, they’d been right to grant mercy, and maybe that was the only cure for my pain, for I knew of no other way to end my sorrow and grief.

All the dead, offered up in flames on the ruined village, hundreds of men and women. All taken by a disease that I was powerless to stop, for all the talk of my so-called skills of healing.

Now Iften was stronger, much stronger in his actions against change, for he had new support, including Joden.

For Joden had lost faith, in me, in Keir, in the elements themselves.

He wasn’t going to call me Warprize any more.

My stomach clenched in a knot and I swallowed hard. I’d complained about everyone using the title but Joden had been one of the first to call me that after Keir claimed me. For him to renounce me hurt terribly. And I’d poured out all my petty fears and problems in Joden’s, exposing myself to him. How would he use that? To hurt Keir? To hurt me? And Keir…

A decimated army, his warleaders turned against him, his plans for the future in ashes around us, I wouldn’t blame Keir if he turned his back on me in anger. The depression crashed down on me and I pressed the sodden cloth even harder against my face and wailed.

Oh Goddess, why had I lied to him?

He’d never forgive me for that, never. How could he, in the face of the damage I’d done to his people?

To us?

There’d be consequences, seen and unseen. Nothing I could do would bring back my friends, or repair the damage I’d created. I shook with sobs that I couldn’t stop. I’d lied and everything had gone so very, very wrong…

It was the touch of a callused hand on mine, gently tugging the cloths away from my face that brought me back. I knew it was Keir even as he knelt by my side, by his touch, by the spicy scent of his skin. I couldn’t look, couldn’t raise my swollen eyes to his face. For I knew what I would see there, knew what I deserved. Anger, contempt—at the very least he’d hate me for all that had happened.

I sat, shivering, trying to stop crying, looking at my lap where his hand covered mine. He said nothing, and I tried to get my ragged breathing under control, to face the disgust that I’d see in those wonderful blue eyes. If I was lucky he’d just go away and leave me to drown in my despair.

But those strong fingers moved and lifted my chin and I raised my gaze to face my Warlord.

What I found was understanding and love in those bright blue eyes.

I broke into fresh sobs, and threw myself into his arms. Keir drew me close, pulling me to his chest with strong arms and allowing me to cling like a child. As I wept, he rocked me, drumming my back gently with his hand, which made me cry that much harder.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry…” I snuffled my nose, and tried to breathe but I could only gasp out the words. “It’s all my fault that—”