Page 73 of The Last Warrior

“Is she all right?”

“I believe she is well. I can say no more now. I will wait for you here until you can leave the party. Only then will we talk.” His look at her was firm, strict, and unfortunately for her, it was becoming evident he was quite prepared to hold his ground.

Frustrated, she spun away from him. “Please stay here, for I will return shortly.” She stepped back into the crowded room.

Winding a path through several groups of people, she at last approached the musicians, where she sought out the lead flautist, Marcelle. “Monsieur, pray, is it too early for me to leave? I fear that Irena will not be in attendance at all tonight, and I am afraid I am not used to these late hours.”

Jacques Marcelle smiled at her kindly. “You should do as you think best, mademoiselle. No one can accuse you of not having done your duty for your grandmother. You have already sung three songs for us tonight. And in truth, we ourselves will not be here much longer.”

“Thank you very much,” Suzette said. “It has been a pleasure singing with you this evening.”

“It has been our pleasure.”

Suzette thanked the man and hurriedly stepped away from him. Picking up the front of her dress, she turned to thread her way once more through the crowd. She found Black Lion where she had left him.

“Mr. Lion,” she spoke up at once, “I am now free to leave. I would ask you to accompany me to Irena’s tent before we proceed to your lodge. It is late, and I would like to change my clothes.”

Black Lion nodded. “As you will.” Stepping away from the party, he proceeded to lead the way toward Irena’s tent.

“Where is Irena?” Suzette asked, as she followed him, holding up her dress so she could hurry to keep up with him.

“I cannot say yet, but as soon as you are able to sit, I will tell you all I have discovered this night.”

“Is it bad, then?”

“Not bad,” he answered at last, “but I think you will be upset.”

She sighed. “Then let us hurry.”

Suzette threw back the canvas flap of Irena’s tent and turned toward Black Lion. “Come,” she said, inviting him to enter. “This is a good place for us to talk, and I fear I am too anxious to wait until we go to your lodge.”

“Very well,” he agreed, and he ducked inside. He waited until she had lit one of the gaslights and was seated, although he remained standing. “Irena has left with the medicine man who accompanied me here tonight.”

“The medicine man?”

“Hau.”

“When will she be back?”

He shrugged. “I do not think she intends to come back.”

Suzette drew her brows together. “How can this be? She has an obligation here—I believe she signed a contract. This is not a matter she would ignore.”

“Yet she is gone with him, and my friend cannot remain long in this country. He was here for a night only, and it was his intention to rejoin our people, to return to the place of my birth.”

“The place of your birth? The Sioux reservation?”

“The reservation is not where I was born,” he said simply. “As you might recall, I am not Lakota by birth. The territory of my people is farther to the north.”

“Yes. A question, please.”

He nodded.

“By your people, do you mean your original tribe?”

“I do. We are called the Lost Clan, and we are part of the Blackfoot Confederation.”

Her frown grew more pronounced. “I do not understand. I thought your tribe did not exist in the real world, that⁠—”