“Something more important than flying, eh?” Rafe asked.
Something in her heart twisted.
Fylin frowned. “He is to be a Singer—” she started.
“And I am a child,” Amyu said the hateful words first defiantly, hoping to ease her pain. It didn’t, but it caught Fylin by surprise.
“My thanks, Rafe.” Amyu turned away from the open door. “But I think I need to make amends.” She tilted her head slightly toward Marcus, dishes finished, waiting with his one eyebrow raised.
“As you say,” Rafe said with a knowing grin, and they were off.
Amyu took a breath. It was the right thing, after all. To make amends for her disobedience. But oddly, she didn’t have even a twinge of regret about not going with them.
She returned to Marcus’s side. “What next?” she asked.
“Nappies,” Marcus smirked as he produced a wooden washing paddle. “And you will aid in the night feedings.”
Amyu sighed.
Lara lifted herhead from her pillow, watching Keir slip into their room, fully armed and armored, the hilts of his swords poking up over his shoulders. He caught her eyes and padded in, casting a wary eye on the babies. He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head toward the cradle.
Lara nodded.
Keir made a show of slowly retreating to the garderobe. Lara smiled, and let her head drop back, enjoying these quiet moments of peace. All too soon the babes would need tending. She stretched under the blanket, reveling in the moment.
Keir returned, wearing only trous, his bare feet quiet on the stone floor. He climbed under the covers, and pulled her into his arms. He pulled the covers over their heads like a tent, and kissed her.
“I heard you sparring with Joden,” she whispered in his ear. “Only a warrior of the Plains would think ‘rest’ means the same as ‘fight’.”
Keir gave her an unrepentant smile. “Joden needed it as much as I. He was far more relaxed by that than by talking.”
“Did he fight well?” she asked, knowing that would be a concern.
“Yes,” Keir said. “Whatever happened has not affect his skill with a blade.”
“Give him time,” Lara leaned closer to nuzzle Keir’s neck. She loved the scent of his skin. “His problem speaking may be a passing thing.”
“Time may not be on our side,” Keir said slowly.
Lara pulled back, watching his face. “Do you still doubt Simus?”
Keir was silent, his eyes hooded.
“Well, I don’t,” Lara said firmly. “Simus would never betray you. I know what Yers said, but I—”
Keir laid a finger on her lips, and Lara realized that her voice had risen. She hushed. They both waited, but no sound came from the cradle.
“Simus is loyal,” Keir said. “That is a truth. But it is also true that we do not know the extent of the warrior-priests’ power. Now a warrior-priestess challenges to become his token-bearer, and he allows it? What if he is influenced, or even controlled?” Keir moved his hand to stroke her cheek, his skin warm against hers. “What if he leads an army to the border, and suddenly attacks Liam?”
“Liam of the Deer has warriors, both of the Plains and Xy,” Lara said.
“Liam of the Deer has some warriors,” Keir said. “But mostly the skilled workers we sent to repair that old tower. And if Antas follows on Simus’s heels?”
His hand stopped stroking her cheek, and Lara reached for it to grasp it in her own.
“Now Joden brings word that Wild Winds is dead, because of a vision he saw,” Keir said. “What weight do I give to that truth? And if so, who leads the warrior-priests now?”
“Joden said they were dead, except for those that followed Wild Winds,” Lara reminded
