Sounds at my door, then hands pulled back my hair, and a cool cloth was on my neck. My breathing started to even out, and a cup of water was pressed to my lips. I took some water in, rinsed and spit. Supporting hands drew me up and away. It was Anna, who clutched me to her ample breast, making soft sounds, and rubbing my back with her hands. I buried my face in her neck and clung like a sick child. She smelled of bread, and grease, and home. Her big warm hands rubbed my back as she cradled me, both of us kneeling on the floor. My sobs eased as she hugged and rocked me. “You cannot do this thing,” she whispered into my ear. “… you cannot.”

Word travels fast.

“I must,” I whispered back. “Xymund has already promised.” I lifted my head and sniffled, wiping my eyes with my hands. Othur was seated on my bed, his eyes red-rimmed, his hands hanging between his legs.

Othur snorted. “He had no right.” He took a deep breath, his lips thinning as he pressed them together.

“Bastard he is, bastard in blood and deed.” Anna hissed. “Fine, then he can answer to the Warlord. We will get you away, hide you ‘til this is done.”

I dropped my head to her shoulder and allowed myself to be comforted for a moment.

“We have friends beyond the mountains, where you could go, Lara.” Othur’s voice was soft.

I lifted my head and looked into his worried eyes. “It wouldn’t just be Xymund that answered to the Warlord, would it? It would be the city.”

Othur dropped his gaze. He said nothing.

I pushed myself away from Anna and sat up. “Would it?”

Othur looked into the fire. “Rumor has it that the Warlord is ruthless when betrayed, or when a promise is not kept.”

Anna spoke up. “Child, you are not responsible for…”

I looked at her, at her tear-streaked face. “What would Father have done?”

Othur sat up at that comment. “If your father were alive he would be horsewhipping your brother through the halls and down into the stables. He’d never have pledged you without consulting you first.”

Anna nodded in agreement, her chins jiggling. She took up a damp cloth and wiped my face. “Child, please. There is no need for this.”

“What is the alternative? I walk away from the city? From these people? From you? And leave you to what fate, Anna?”

I rose to my feet. Othur stood as well, and we both helped Anna get her bulk off the floor. Once she was on her feet, Othur swept me into a hug. “This isn’t over, Lara. We need to talk about this before—”

The door slamming open brought him up short.

It was Xymund.

He stood in the doorway, a small chest under his arm.

Anna covered the chamber pot with the damp cloth, and picked it up. With a nod to Xymund, she left the room. For one brief moment, I held my breath, afraid that the contents of the pot would be flung in his face. But Anna went past him without a word. Othur bowed to Xymund, then followed his wife out. He cast a glance at me as he closed the door that told me that our discussion was not over yet.

Xymund placed the chest on the small table by the door.

“The Warlord’s men brought this. His instructions are that you be bathed, oiled, and anointed with perfume. Your hair is to be down. Wear the garment that has been provided and nothing else. When summoned into the throne room, you will walk to the throne, kneel before the Warlord and extend your wrists for your chains.”

I did not reply. I would not give him the satisfaction.

“I have something else to give you.” He held out a small vial with a dark fluid in it. I took it, and looked at him with a question in my eyes. “It’s monkshood.”

One of the deadliest poisons known. Takes less then a few breaths. My voice barely emerged from my throat. “What am I to do with this?”

“The right thing.” He put his hands behind his back. “I had no choice, Xylara. My generals tell me that we could not withstand him. By doing this I save the kingdom.”

“And your throne.” Suddenly I was very, very tired. I sat in a chair, and looked at the vial. So small. So deadly.

“I am giving you an escape. I will leave the timing of it to your discretion.”

I let the bitterness escape. “My thanks, to be sure.”

He stiffened. “The best time would be after the ceremony, but before he can…” His voice trailed off, and I closed my eyes. “I know that you will do what is best for our people.” Bitterness and something even darker now lay in his tone. I looked at him and found it on the tip of my tongue to ask him why he hated me.

I doubted that I would get an honest answer.

He endured my look for a moment and then turned on his heel and left the room, closing the door behind him.

The brown liquid flowed back and forth as I turned the vial in my hand. I stared at it as I turned it over and over…

All I had ever wanted was to heal. To fix the hurts of others. A school of my own, a place to study and learn and teach, and heal. Now, I would be a…

I swallowed as the bile rose in my throat again. I stood and started to pace in the confines of my small room. I kept going over the scene in Xymund’s study, trying to find another way, an alternative to what he had promised our enemy. Xymund’s words kept running through my head. ‘I and my nobles are to swear fealty to him. The kingdom will remain under my control and the taxes and tithes that are to be paid are reasonable and proper. All prisoners and wounded, if there are any, will be exchanged. But he has claimed tribute.’

‘… claimed tribute…’

‘… claimed tribute… ’ But there was something else, something…

‘All prisoners and wounded, if there are any, will be exchanged’

Dearest Goddess, ‘if there are any’!

I stood suddenly, dropping the vial onto the bed. Xymund had no intention of exchanging prisoners. He would obey the letter of the agreement but not the spirit. I swallowed hard, glancing out the window to the rising sun. It might already be too late.

I was up and moving without another thought. I flew out of the room, reaching the circular back stair, throwing myself down them as fast as my feet could go. I burst through the kitchen door, and bless the Goddess, Othur was still there with Anna. They looked up, staring at me as if I had taken leave of my senses.

I hurried over, talking as fast as my breath would let me.

“Slow down, Lara, slow down.” He frowned. “Xymund wouldn’t. He’s too afraid of that demon to…”

Anna wiped her face, her expression grim. “He would, damn him. A sop to his pride. What can we do?”

“I think I can get them safe to the castle gates, but be-yond?” I trembled at the thought of a slaughter, of its effect on the peace.

Othur rubbed his chin. “Let me worry about that. Go to the tents, Lara. Maybe we’re wrong, but go anyway.”

I nodded, ran to the still room, and grabbed up my satchel. Without further thought I exploded out of the kitchen and down the garden path, running for all I was worth, praying that I was wrong.

I stopped at the briar patch, just out of sight of the first sentry post, and tried to catch my breath. No point in giving myself away. I dropped the satchel, bent over, hands on knees, and concentrated on breathing.

Once I had it under control, I picked up the bag and started walking down the path at my normal pace. I had to be in time, had to be…

The first sentry appeared unconcerned, giving me a genial wave as I passed by. I returned it, and continued on. One slow step at a time. The next sentry came into view. I waved and kept my pace normal.

The guard was a familiar one, but I could not place the name. He nodded to me. “You’re early this morn. ” I nodded and smiled, not trusting my voice. He lifted the flap. I took a breath and stepped inside. Everything was as it had been. I let out my breath slowly and swayed with the relief that coursed over me. Most of the prisoners were still asleep and not yet stirring. Someone was about, though, for I could smell kavage, and some of the braziers were alight. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe.