Later, much later, I woke to find Keir had crawled into the bed at some point. He lay off to one side, on his back, sleeping peacefully. There on his bare arm were those tattoos. I stared at him in the soft glow of the coals, then went back to sleep.
The dress was bright red. Bright, bright red.
Marcus smiled at me. “There, now. That will do us proud.”
I tried to smile back at him.
The morning had started well enough. When I awoke, I found the bed empty and Keir already gone. After breakfast and kavage, I returned to the healing tent, to find Gils there feeding everyone and asking as many questions as he could with one breath. After some negotiation, I allowed some of Atira’s friends into the tent, so they could make their plans. Whenever I wandered in their direction, they would cover up the board, and wave me off. The only times I pushed the issue was when I needed to check the leg, other than that I left them to their schemes. The morning passed quickly, and I soon found myself hustled back to Marcus and food and the dress.
As dresses went, it was quite comfortable. A high neckline and long sleeves, with a flared split skirt. I especially liked the skirt, given the chance of a side-saddle in this army camp was nonexistent. The fabric slid between my legs like water glides over skin. It was nothing I’d ever seen or felt. Somehow Marcus had even gotten slippers that matched the dress.
I soothed the dress, running my hands over the fabric with mixed emotions. I certainly didn’t fill the bodice, the cut being made for more generous curves. The skirt fit fine over my more than ample hips, and the cloth flowed down my legs. Ordinarily I’d be pleased to own such a dress.
But not a scarlet dress.
In Water’s Fall, red was the color worn by women whose profession I was not supposed to know about. At times, some of the bolder women of the court would dare to have a scarf, or some trim of that color, but not a whole dress. What made it that much worse was that I had never seen a red like this before, so bright and vivid. It was the bright red of new blood, brighter even than the roses in the briar of the palace garden. It put all the Xyian colors to shame, making them look drab and dowdy. A dress like this, as bright as it was, all but screamed my position in no uncertain terms.
I bowed my head, hiding my face with a curtain of hair. If I said something, Marcus might not understand, but he might not make me wear the dress. Trous would raise eyebrows, certainly, but this dress would have the lord and ladies of the Court collapsing with seizures. I didn’t want to offend him, but I couldn’t wear this. In the back of my head I heard Great Aunt Xydella’s quavery voice. ‘Speak up, child.’ She’d say. ‘I can’t read minds.’ Of course Great Aunt Xydella would have worn the dress and loved every outrageous minute of it.
I bit my lip, then opened my mouth. “Marcus—”
Keir walked into the tent and stopped short. His eyes widened, and his face lit up. “Fire’s blessing.” He stood, looking at me with approval.
I swallowed what I had been about to say.
Keir made a gesture, and I turned slowly, allowing him to see it. “Marcus, where did you find such a dress?”
Marcus drew himself up and arched his eyebrow. “The clothing of one woman is a task well within my skills, Warlord.”
Keir smiled and acknowledged Marcus with a slight bow. “I stand corrected, old man.” He straightened. He was outfitted in full chain that held a high gloss, with a black cape edged in fur. The hilts of his swords peeked over his shoulders. He moved to stand before me, a look of pride on his face. He held out his hands, and there were the bracelets that I had worn at the surrender ceremony.
I stiffened and looked away. They lay open in his hands, heavy silver symbols of my status. I didn’t look up, for fear that I would betray my feelings. I simply extended my wrists and kept my head down as he snapped them into place. They felt heavy, like the bindings they were, and I let the weight pull my arms down to my sides.
There was a slight pause. Then Keir asked, “Is there a cloak, as well?”
There was, thankfully as black as Keir’s own. I took it from Marcus, who looked at me with a puzzled expression. I put on the cloak as I followed Keir out into the evening air.
The dress was even brighter in the sun. If that were possible.
Our escort awaited us. There were ten mounted men, besides Rafe and Prest. Rafe was holding the horses. Rafe and Prest were also in their best armor, and they gleamed in the afternoon sun. Rafe’s face lit up when he saw me. Prest turned, and a smile spread over his face. Rafe handed me the reins of one of the horses. “Warprize, you look—”
Keir coughed.
Rafe didn’t miss a beat. “Well. Very well.” He mounted his horse, as did Keir and Prest.
I had some difficulty, trying to get the skirt in the correct position, but managed to get up and into the saddle. I gathered the reins and turned, only to find everyone looking at me in varying degrees of dismay.
“What?” I asked, puzzled.
Prest just shook his head. Rafe sucked in a breath. “The way you sit—”
Keir looked at me sternly. “You should have told me you can’t ride.”
I frowned. “I can ride.”
They looked at me, scanning me from head to toe. I sat up a little straighter, but all three shook their heads. The others in our escort all seemed to be very busy adjusting their tunics and weapons. Almost as if they were embarrassed for me.
Prest frowned. “Maybe a pregnant mare?”
Rafe looked toward the city. “We could walk the horses—”
Keir shook his head. “It would take too long. She can ride double with me.”
“This is ridiculous.” I gathered the reins, clicked my tongue, and urged the horse on.
Nothing happened.
Now the guards by the tent were looking at me, shaking their heads. Prest grabbed for my reins, as if afraid the horse would run away with me. Keir moved his horse along side mine, planning to snatch me from the saddle, but I was having none of that. Whore I may look, Warprize I may be, but I’d be damned before I was taken to the ceremony like a helpless child.
Rafe pulled his horse to the side, and I saw what he was doing. He used his toes under the horse’s front legs, instead of his heels, and seemed to shift his weight forward. I did the same, and the horse obliged with a few steps forward. I fended off Prest and Keir and urged the beast on.
Keir’s voice came from behind me. “It’s not safe. You will ride with me.”
I shifted forward again, and the horse broke into a trot.
There were calls from behind me, but I was not going to stop. I could ride. I headed down the path through the tents, toward the road to the city. It didn’t take long for Keir and the others to catch up and form up around me. Rafe was still muttering about my skill, and Prest had a frown on his face, but I noticed that Keir had that look of pride again as he passed me to take the lead.
There were workers in the fields that we passed, and I gave them no notice at first. But the closer we came to the city walls, the more my awareness grew. They weren’t harvesting or preparing the ground for the spring. They were still gathering the dead. It had been days since the fighting had stopped, yet still they moved about in their work.
Were there so many dead?
I had to focus on the road before me, couldn’t look at the men with the carts any longer. I clenched my jaw. The peace had to hold, I had to do my part. Or there’d be more bodies, more lives wasted. If that meant I never heard my name again, so be it. Such a small price to pay.
Our appearance at the main gates of the city caused quite a stir. The ceremony was still some hours away, and from the reaction of the guard, we were not expected so soon. The gates were normally kept open for the merchant traffic. They had been closed due to the war, and apparently were being kept closed. The Warlord drew up to the gates and stopped.