I pulled his tunic over his head. His head emerged, that dark hair all rumpled and mussed. I ranmy fingers through it, feeling the heat of his damp scalp. He grabbed my hand and held it to hischeek. "If it turns to the worst, I want you to leave this camp before I draw my last breath."
"I will not leave you." I whispered.
"Stubborn. So very stubborn." He closed his eyes for a moment, rubbing his cheek against mypalm.
"Your head hurts." I leaned forward, seeing the pain in the lines etched on his face. Hemurmured agreement softly.
"We'll get you into bed and get you some sleepease. It will help with the headache."
"Not until I have spoken with Iften and Isdra." Keir tried to raise himself up, to help Marcusremove his trous, but his arms trembled with the effort. Marcus made no comment, merelywent about his business. When all was done, I lifted the bedding and Keir settled back, hishands reaching to place his weapons at hand.
Before I could say anything, Marcus covered Keir's hand with his own. Keir's face held aparticular look of pain as he realized what had to be done. Marcus murmured something Ididn't catch, and Keir seemed reassured, pulling his hand away from the swords. Those blueeyes, cloudy with fever, watched as Marcus left the tent.
Keir looked at me with a grimace. "You must restrain me."
I sat at the side of the bed, and put the back of my hand against his forehead. The heat wasstarting to rise. "Not just yet, Keir."
Keir brought one bare arm out from under the covers and curled it around me, trying to pull medown onto his chest. I went willingly, taking comfort from his closeness.
"So. You are cursed."
The smug voice came from behind us. I turned my head to see Iften standing there behind me,Isdra and Gils just visible behind him. Isdra was glaring at the back of Iften's head, and Gilsdid not appear to be pleased with him either. I stood slowly, feeling uneasy with my back to theman. Iften stood there and oozed his glee, making no secret of his pleasure at Keir's condition.
Keir had his eyes closed, his hair plastered to his head. He didn't bother to open his eyes.
"Iften. You have command until I am through this."
"But not the tent." Marcus growled as he entered from his quarters, bring a bucket of coldwater, and cloths.
Iften shot him a hateful look. "As if I need the tent, crip—" He cut himself off, then—pasted asatisfied smile on his face. "Have no fear, Warlord. I will summon the warleaders and informthem of this." He turned, and moved to push past Isdra.
"Hold, Iften." I snapped. How dare he treat Keir that way?
Iften stopped, then turned slowly. "Yes?"
"You may summon them, but I will speak to them for Keir."
Iften's brown eyes flashed. "I am Second."
I drew myself up straight, and gave him a glare right back. "I am the Warprize, Iften."
Iften's eyes were filled with hate, but he bowed his head, turned and left, pushing past theothers.
"May the elements afflict him." Marcus muttered.
Isdra nodded her agreement as she and Gils entered. Gils was fumbling in his satchel, pullingout the items that we would need.
"This is not an affliction. Or a curse." I reminded him gently. "It's an illness." The cold cloth inmy hand, I sat back down and began to wipe Keir's brow.
Keir turned his head and opened his eyes to look at me, catching my hand. "Singers will praisemy Warprize for a thousand years to come." His eyes were shining with the fever.
Guilt rose in my breast. It was more likely I'd be known as the woman who killed an entirevillage and army with her arrogance and pride. "No. No, they won't."
Gils handed me the cup with the dose of sleepease, but Keir pushed it away, and turned toIsdra. "I have no right to ask this of you, but I am going to. Not as Warlord, but as a friend.
Please—"
"There is no need to ask." Isdra cut him off, putting her hand on her sword hilt. "I will see hersafe before I go to the snows."
