Keir needed no aid. He seemed to know his opponents’ moves before they were made, and blocked them with ease. His attackers were breathing heavily as fatigue set in. When one made the mistake of stepping back when his fellow shifted forward, Keir did not hesitate. In a moment, another man lay bleeding in the street, and two were left.
They broke and ran.
Rafe made to follow, but Keir barked a command. Rafe froze and kept position. Keir turned his head slightly. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” My voice sounded so shaky, it embarrassed me. I tried to rise, sliding a hand against the wall for support. The wood felt warm and rough against my trembling hand.
“Stay down.” Keir still scanned the street and rooftops, weapons at the ready.
It had happened so fast, my heart still raced in my chest. I concentrated on my breathing, trying to slow it down. For tense minutes, we stood there waiting to see if they would try again. After a lifetime, Keir relaxed. “It’s clear. Anyone hurt?” Prest and Rafe responded in the negative, as they both moved to check the fallen.
I pushed away from the wall. “Rafe, you’re cut.”
“Scraped myself on my shield rim.” Rafe turned his man over. “This one’s dead.”
I took a step forward, toward the other downed men.
“No.” Keir stopped me.
“Please, let me…” I pushed against him, trying to move past. I might as well have pushed the wall.
Rafe spoke up. “Doesn’t matter, Warprize. They’re all dead.” He was kneeling by one of the bodies, cleaning his sword. “Strange that they have no armor.”
“An ambush planned in haste.” Keir stood grim, scanning the market area, which remained strangely empty for the time of day. There was no sign of the Watch. “Warprize, do you recognize them?” Keir moved with me as I stepped forward to look at their faces.
They lay in their own blood, the smell of feces and death in the air. None of them looked familiar as Rafe rolled them onto their backs, and they wore nothing to identify themselves with any noble family. Even as I shook my head, Rafe pulled a belt pouch off one, and it spilled bright gold coins onto the cobblestones. More gold than a mere soldier might see in a lifetime.
Keir growled low in his throat. “Assassins. Xyian, all of them.”
“This isn’t.”
We turned to see Prest standing at the wall, holding the lance in his hands, the tip broken. Black shards lay on the ground at his feet. “Full-tipped when thrown.” Prest’s eyes gleamed as he displayed the feathering on the lance.
Rafe sucked in a breath with a hiss.
Keir’s lips tightened, then he glanced at Rafe. “Gather the horses.” The animals hadn’t wandered far and Rafe moved toward them, making soothing sounds. Keir turned back to Prest. “Wrap that and put it in my quiver. We’re returning to camp.”
“Camp?” I stepped back from the bodies, wrapping my cloak around my body. “But the ceremony…” I let my voice trail off as Keir ignored me, cleaning his swords on one of the dead. Prest was next to me, wrapping the lance in a cloth he’d pulled from his saddlebags. Hadn’t Atira said something about featherings? Their patterns?
It was my turn to suck in a breath. “Who made that lance?”
Prest looked at me, then flicked his eyes to Keir. Rafe came up with the beasts and Keir took the reins. With a nod, he had Rafe stripping the corpses of gold and weapons. With an equally quick movement he motioned for me to mount. “Up, Warprize.”
“You know who made it.”
Keir’s eyes rested on mine for a moment, softening slightly. He spoke, but not to answer my question. “ Mount. We ride for camp.”
I just stood there, trying to think past the rapid beating of my heart. “The ceremony…”
Keir drilled me with a glare. “Ceremony be damned.”
I went to the horse, and clung to the saddle, trying to will strength into my legs. Trembling, I mounted. “ What does it say if the Warlord runs to camp and hides when attacked by six men?”
Rafe chimed in. “Six men who weren’t very good.”
Prest snorted, but kept his eyes on the street.
Keir didn’t glance at Rafe. “So speaks the man who will be practicing his shield work for the next week.”
Rafe shut his mouth.
Keir grabbed his own horse and swung into the saddle. “It says that the Warlord is no fool.” Prest and Rafe mounted up as well.
“We are not hurt.” I swallowed hard, and fought down my fear. “There are many people gathered for the ceremony. What will they say when the Warlord does not appear?” I moved my horse in the direction of the castle.
Keir grabbed my reins as I passed, bringing my horse to a halt. “Then I will go alone. Prest and Rafe will escort you to camp.”
I shook my head. “That leaves you alone and a target. If we all go, then we will have the escort of all the men who are attending on the way back.” I caught his eye. “Besides, my people are expecting me. What rumors will start when I do not appear?”
Keir stared at me, his jaw working. I could see a small vein pulsing on his neck, but I didn’t drop my gaze. Finally, he took in a deep breath and let it out very, very slowly. He released the reins, and turned his horse in the direction of the castle.
“What about them?” Rafe jerked his head back at the pile of dead.
“Leave them to rot.”
The streets remained empty as we rode to the castle. Buildings that had once been friendly and familiar now held deep shadows where danger lurked. My reins grew damp from my sweaty hands, my shoulders tight with every step. Fear gripped me hard.
Rafe rode beside me, with bow and arrow in hand. His horse responded to knees and feet alone, the reins lay knotted in front of Rafe’s saddle. Prest rode in the same manner, but slightly behind us. They both scanned the surroundings constantly, focused on catching the slightest hint of an attack.
Keir rode in front, his swords sheathed, looking outwardly relaxed, but with his head moving from side to side, watching the buildings around us as we passed.
I cleared my throat to ask about the lance again, but Keir gestured for silence without even looking back at me. I bit my lip as my throat went even drier, and fought the urge to hunch in my saddle.
The horses sensed our tension and shifted restlessly under us. But Keir held our pace to a walk. It was only when the castle gates appeared in the distance, ablaze with lights and people, that he urged his horse to a trot. We sped up to follow him the final distance into the main courtyard.
People, both Xyian and Firelander, were clustered about, and palace guards moved forward for our horses. The sun still filled the area with light, causing my dress to glow like a bright flame. I tried to look confident and relaxed, but my stomach cramped as the Xyians around me reacted to the dress.
Keir, Prest and Rafe were still on guard, keeping an eye on the crowd. Keir swung down first, and gave me a concerned look as he helped me dismount, as if he sensed the strain. Rafe and Prest joined us, and they surrounded me as we entered the castle proper.
Othur appeared before us. “Warlord.” He bowed. When his head came up, his eyes sought mine, filled with concern. I risked a small smile. His eyes crinkled at the edges as he continued. “Allow me to show you to the antechamber.” He guided us into the same chamber where I had waited for the submission ceremony. It had only been days ago, but it felt like a lifetime. As we entered, my shoulders relaxed, now that we were out from under prying eyes.
Othur stood in the doorway behind us, and bowed again. “I will inform the King of your arrival. He will join you shortly.”
Keir held up his hand. “We will delay for a few moments. I will send for Xymund when I am ready.”
Keir moved further into the room, threw his cloak over one of the chairs, and started to pace. The light of the fire and the lamps played over his face, making his blue eyes dark and forbidding.