I smiled at the older man and woman, the same that were with us in the castle. I remembered him for his bright gold hair and beard that shown like the sun. He had a warm, easy smile, and was big, like the paintings of the sun god in the temple. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes and the slight silver at his temples told me that he was older than most Fire-landers that I had met. He was different too, in that he had a long club strapped to his back, the top jutting up like the hilts of Keir’s swords.
Epor smiled back and nodded. “I am Epor, Warprize. This is Isdra. Let us know if you need help. We’ll be outside if you need us, if Isdra can stop gaping.”
The woman, who was almost his height but thinner, had a long braid of silver hair that hung down her back. Her skin had a yellow tint to it, and her eyes were oddly slanted. She wore a shield on her back, and a sword and dagger at her side. She’d been busy looking around at all the things in the tent. She seemed a bit more reserved to me but at Epor’s words, she whipped her head around, flinging the braid and glared at Epor with her grey eyes flashing. Epor just laughed, and pulled at her braid as they left the tent. I noticed that they each had some kind of metal wire laced along the outer rim of their left ears. It glittered in the light as Isdra turned her head. I’d have to ask Atira what it meant.
I watched as Epor and Isdra took up stations outside the flap. It still seemed so strange to me, to see women dressed in armor, with weapons she clearly knew how to use. All of the women that I’d seen were so strong, confident of her abilities and secure in her position. I envied them to a degree, having so freely what I had to fight to achieve.
I turned back to my work and lifted the lid of the last crate.
I sat down. Hard. And stared.
It was filled with paper. Ink. Blank journals.
In one wonderful, horrible moment I knew that I was lost. Keir, Warlord, had taken me, claimed me, made me his warprize. But somewhere, somehow, he had managed to find a way into my heart as well.
How had this happened? I’d given myself to a barbarian, a ravaging, crazed warlord, expecting little more than abuse and dishonor at his hands. But this man had offered nothing but kindness and respect to me, his property. I knew this gift was by his hand, I’d not spoken to Sal about paper or ink, and she’d not understand its importance.
Could he care so much that he paid attention to this tiny detail?
Did he want me to be happy?
I clutched one of the journals to my chest as my emotions overwhelmed me. Joy and confusion warred with one another. My mouth went dry, and I closed my eyes. What would happen when we returned to his home? Such a warrior as Keir had other… conquests. At least five. Of that I was certain. The image of him in another’s arms came to me and I felt sick. I closed my eyes and let the nausea pass through me.
Keir moved his hand, running his fingers through my hair, spreading it out over the fur. His eyes flared blue light. “Want to know the best part of being a warlord?” I just looked up and nodded. Keir grinned.
“I always get what I want.”
I put my head down. The pain threatened to overwhelm me. Please Goddess, let him want me. Let him want me forever.
Enough. I sat up and scrubbed at my face with my sleeve. I had work to do.
I returned to the tent to check on my patients. The man was well; drowsy after eating. Atira was awake, though, and gestured me over when she saw me. I waved Gils off, since I knew he had other duties, and moved to sit by her side.
“Warprize.” Atira looked deeply concerned. “Warprize, may I have your token?” She looked anxious and worried.
I reached for one of her stones and handed it to her. “You hold my token, Atira. What truths would you voice?”
She hesitated, looking at me closely. “I have heard a rumor in the camp about you, and I would ask you if it is true, and voice a truth if it is indeed true.” I had to think for a minute. “A rumor? About me?”
“About your people.” She nodded “And you.” She rubbed the stone between her fingers. “Is it true that you are untouched? That your people do not mate until they bond?”
I reared back, physically. Consciously or not, Atira did so as well, keeping a tight grip on the token and holding it up between us. It took me a minute to gather my wits. “Atira, who told you—”
“Skies above, it’s true,” she whispered, staring at me in utter horror. “You bind when young and sleep only with your bonded?”
I managed a nod, my face so hot it hurt. “Who teaches you then? Who instructs… ?” Her voice trailed off as she looked at my eyes. “No one? You are both left to fumble about?” She collapsed back on the cot in silence.
I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers to my cheeks to try to cool them.
“None told me, Warprize. I listened to the stories of your people, and the Warlord’s intent to follow your ways, and made a guess. But I must say this. Stupid. That is so stupid, Warprize.”
I looked at her, puzzled. “What is that word? Stupid?”
“Dull-witted. Foolish. Ignorant.” Her angry face glowered at me. “We have initiators. Teachers. Joden is one. He would be an excellent choice. You should request him.” She sounded like a parent recommending a Master to study under.
I choked up, laughter and tears both in my throat, trying to find the words. “Atira, we believe that two people should come to the bonding… untouched… and learn together.”
She shook her head, and held up the token. “The Warlord said to learn and respect different ways. But that is barbaric and stupid.” She held the stone out to me, frowning as she did so.
