As we reached the edge of the crowd, a cheer went up, and happy cries of ‘Heyla’ filled the air. Not all the faces reflected joy, but for the most part, my welcome was warm. Simus and my guards sat proudly as our horses walked down to where the Council tent had been.
The tiers were gone now, and only Essa, Wild Winds and Reness stood there, before their stools. I caught a quick glimpse of a cushion on the one behind Essa. Where the tent had been, only the odd stone floor remained, a large circle of grey.
Simus stopped his horse and roared out to the Council, “Eldest of the Elders of the Plains, I bring before you Xylara, Warprize!”
The roar went up as the entire crowd stood. The ground seemed to shake as they all stomped their feet, and raised their voices. The hairs on my arms stood straight up, and my body shook. The excitement on the air was intoxicating, to say the least. Whatever the Elders might think, the People of the Plains were welcoming me with joy.
Simus dismounted, and helped me to dismount from my horse. Once my feet were on the ground, he offered me his arm, in the Xyian fashion. I smiled and took it, and we walked to stand before the Eldest. There, Simus bowed to them, and then to me, and walked off the circle and into the crowd.
Wild Winds held up his staff and the crowd went silent.
The sky had grown a bit darker now, and a breeze had blown up, teasing my hair. I lifted a hand to pat at it nervously, and waited.
“Xylara, Daughter of Xy,” Reness spoke, her voice carrying over the crowd. I could hear her words repeated in the crowd behind me, creating an odd, echo-like effect. “You have been confirmed as Warprize of the Plains. We ask for the final time, do you wish to be released from this position?”
“No,” I replied firmly.
“Xylara, Daughter of Xy.” Essa’s voice was high and clear. “You have been confirmed as Warprize of the Plains. We ask for the final time, do you wish to return to the lands of your people?”
“No,” I answered again, only to hear my response echoing behind me as the crowd repeated it.
“Xylara, Daughter of Xy.” Wild Winds spoke. “You have been confirmed as Warprize of the Plains. Do you wish to claim a Warlord?”
“Yes,” I answered.
“Turn to the People, and claim your Warlord.” Wild Winds gestured.
I took a deep breath, and turned to face the crowd.
The horses had been cleared away, all that remained were the people standing there, silent.
I drew another deep breath of cold, sweet air. “ ‘I claim Keir of the Cat as my Warlord!”
My words were repeated, over and over. I could almost see them move over the crowd like a wave over water.
“Warprize.” Essa spoke, and his words were echoed by the crowd as well. “You choose a man stripped of his—”
“Were he naked and helpless, ill or injured, still would I claim Keir of the Cat as my Warlord.” My voice rang out, defiant and clear.
The Eldest bowed their heads to me.
Essa lifted his head first, and raised his hands. “The Warprize has claimed her warrior.”
He’d changed the wording, but I didn’t care. As his words were repeated, everyone turned, looking down the wide walkway between them. The echos died and we waited in silence.
I’d thought he’d emerge from the crowd at some point, but no one moved. All heads were looking down that walkway, so I looked too, only to see a figure coming toward me in the distance, walking steadily. I squinted a bit, trying to make out who it was, until my eyes went wide with surprise.
It was Keir walking toward me, barefoot and wearing nothing but thin, white trous.
I sucked in a breath. He looked so vulnerable, without armor or weapons. Bare-chested, barefoot, he walked toward me, his face intent, his eyes blue as the skies.
I swallowed hard, recognizing the fabric of the trous. It was the same material as the shift I’d worn when I’d surrendered myself to him in Xy. As I had surrendered to him, he now surrendered to me, in full view of every Plains warrior here.
My heart swelled in an instant, with joy, with pride, with love for the fire of my heart.
My Warlord.
Keir advanced until he stood before me. His bronze skin shone as if oiled. I looked into those blue eyes, and would have reached for him, but he knelt, and lowered his head, so that I could see the back of his neck. The breeze blew again, and I caught the faint scent of vanilla.
“Your chosen Warlord comes before you, naked and bearing no weapons.” Reness spoke from behind me. Her choice of words made her support very clear.
Keir sank down further on his haunches, and bowed his head.
“Your chosen Warrior submits to you, Warprize,” Essa added.
Keir lifted his hands, palms up, as I had done so long ago.
Wild Winds spoke now, with just a touch of sarcasm in his voice. “You are free to reject or claim him Warprize. Speak, under open skies, and it will be as you desire.”
The words Keir had spoken in the throne room echoed in my mind. I reached out, and placed my hands over his. “Thus do I claim my Warlord.”
Wild cheering rose again. I tugged on Keir’s hands and he rose to stand before me, blue eyes gleaming as he looked down into my eyes. I lifted his hands so that our palms came together, and slipped my fingers between his. “Kiss me, Keir.”
“Lara.” Keir leaned down, and the sounds of cheering melted away. His lips on mine, I leaned into him, conscious of the thin white material of his trous, and the scent of vanilla on his skin. It was passion, and heat, and love, with the promise of a lifetime behind it.
“The snows are upon us!” Essa declared. “The Council of Elders is closed, until the warmth and new grass appears. But for this night, let the celebration begin!”
Later, I found myself seated with Keir on the stone circle, as patterns were danced before us. Marcus was close, as was Amyu, and all of those who had supported us. Atira and Heath had just left, promising a special dance in my honor, something that Atira had designed herself.
I leaned against Keir’s shoulder with a sigh. Simus had produced Keir’s weapons and leather armor and Keir was once again the fierce, well-armed warrior of the Plains. A pity really. He’d looked wonderful in those trous. Maybe I could convince him to wear them to bed? I felt my lips curl into a smile at the idea. Keir, lying on our bed, wearing naught but. . .
As if he caught my thought, Keir’s lips brushed my ear. “That is an interesting look, Warprize.” He nuzzled my neck. “What are you thinking of?”
I gave him a sideways glance, and decided to be honest. “You. Those trous. Our bed.”
Keir cleared his throat and shifted on his stool.
I lowered my voice. “Our own private celebration.” I put my hand on his thigh, and scratched my fingers over the leather.
He put his hand over mine, capturing it. “It would be rude to leave before seeing Atira’s pattern danced.”
I sighed. “Truth. But then, you are a Warlord of the Plains. Bold. Demanding.” I wiggled my fingers in his grasp. “Rude, upon occasion.”
“None of that now.” Marcus spoke behind me. He was cloaked, and staying behind us.
“Mar-cus,” I whined.
“War-prize,” he mimicked. “Time enough for that after the patterns are danced. Woven especially for this celebration.”
“Yes.” Keir squeezed my fingers, looking smug. “Behave, Warprize.”
I looked at him in astonishment.
Marcus snorted. “Like you aren’t a stallion ready for his mare.”
I straightened at that, flushing up like a girl. “Marcus!”
“Hush, the both of you,” Marcus scolded. “I’ve a tent set up, down by the water, far from any others, where you can be as private as the Warprize desires.”