“Will it be a true peace?”
Warren nodded, his head close to mine. “Yes. The Warlord has kept his word to those he has taken. It is only where any have betrayed him that he has retaliated. When he is betrayed or defied, he is ruthless.”
The old man bent his head.
“I need…” I cleared my dry throat and looked down at my clasped hands. The knuckles were white.
What I needed mattered no longer. I looked up and let my voice carry, cutting through the useless debate. “When is this to take place?”
Xymund turned. “Sunset. The ceremony will be at sunset tomorrow.” He gestured toward the window, where dawn could be seen on the horizon. “Today.”
I nodded. It took every bit of strength, but I managed to get to my feet. “The House of Xy has always seen to the needs of its people.” I took a deep breath. “I will be ready at sunset.”
Everyone in the room but the King sank to their knees, removing helms and uncovering heads. I looked steadily at Xy-mund, who stared back at me, sullenly.
I turned and walked toward the door on legs gone numb. Once in the hall, I moved without really seeing anything. Next thing I knew, I was in my room. I stood for a moment, looking at my belongings scattered about, at the fire that burned so cheerfully, at my books, and papers, and…
I fell to my knees and managed to get to the chamber pot before retching up my supper.
I heaved and panted over the pot for what seemed an endless time. The spice of the stew burned my lips.
It occurred to me that it would be a long time before I could stomach the taste of Anna’s stew again.
Then I realized that would not be a problem. My stomach cramped at the thought.
My eyes closed, I tried to concentrate on my breathing instead of the wretched cramping of my gut. A slave. The heaving began again, although there was nothing left to purge.
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.”
