CHAPTER 31
 
HEATH DIDN’ T NEED TO SEE THE SECOND SLIPPER as he ran up the stairs. He could hear the sounds of a struggle above him. He hurtled up the remaining stairs, put his shoulder to the trapdoor, and burst through without stopping.
Lanfer had Atira pinned to the wall, naked, her hands bound behind her back. Her dress was in tatters, and her breasts lay bare. Lanfer’s trous were undone. He’d startled the bastard, and Heath ran forward, fully intent on running him through.
Lanfer yanked Atira’s head back and placed his dagger on her throat. “Stop,” he croaked.
Heath stopped just paces away, breathing hard, his weapons ready. “Let her go.”
Atira was limp in Lanfer’s arms, her eyes closed.
“Why don’t I just take her while you watch,” Lanfer taunted. “These Firelander women sleep with anything, or so I’ve heard. I’ll just—”
“Durst is dead,” Heath said. “Executed by the Queen’s command. Your followers have fled or died or surrendered. Do the same, Lanfer.”
Atira groaned, blood at the corner of her mouth. Her bruised and battered face twisted with pain. But there was a flash of rage beneath her eyelids.
“Never mind,” Heath said, unable to suppress his fury. “I will kill you for what you have done.”
Lanfer laughed, an ugly, deep sound. “Watch how I—”
Atira turned her head to the side and retched all over him.
Lanfer recoiled, dropping Atira, taking the dagger away from her throat. She slid down to sprawl at his feet.
Heath leapt for Lanfer, slashing for his neck.
Lanfer dodged, running for his own sword. Heath gave chase, but Lanfer was fast, getting to his weapon in time to take a defensive stance.
“Why not just admit right now that I am the better fighter,” Lanfer taunted him. “I’m bigger, I’ve a better reach. You can’t win now.”
“Only one way to find out,” Heath growled, and lunged.
 
 
ATIRA COUGHED WEAKLY. SHE WAS A MESS. ANY ATTEMPT to move, and the agony swept over her, pulling her consciousness with it.
But the sound of blade on blade drew her and helped her focus. Heath was fighting Lanfer, each maneuvering around the other, feinting and striking, then moving back to strike again. She drew a deep breath, put her good arm against the wall, and used her legs to force herself up. She stood there, trembling, leaned against the cold stone, and waited for whatever strength she had left to gather.
Even with the fight raging before her, she couldn’t help herself; she turned and looked toward the Plains. The needle of light was gone, but there was something coming, something on the horizon. It was golden and moving swiftly up the valley at an odd angle. She blinked again, staring at a wall of golden light that seemed to sparkle as it bore down on the tower . . .
. . . and passed over, like the wind over the grasses of the Plains, to continue on, over, and into the mountain itself.
The two men never noticed, intent as they were on killing each other.
Atira blinked again, wishing she could rub her eyes. Perhaps it had been her imagination, except . . . there was another ring of light coming, golden and flowing up the valley.
Even as she watched, she rubbed her bindings against the stone, trying to free her hands.
 
 
“YOUR WHORE LIES BROKEN,” LANFER TAUNTED, moving well away from the open trapdoor. “And I broke her.”
Heath followed, watching his footing. The taunt meant nothing. What mattered was the location of his enemy’s blades. Prest’s voice seemed to echo in his head as Heath waited for his chance.
Lanfer moved in, his sword raised for a blow to Heath’s head. But the sky turned gold, and Heath caught the glitter of Lanfer’s dagger snaking around, trying for Heath’s side.
Heath twisted to take the blow on his shoulder, letting the blade slide down his armor, and swung for Lanfer’s wrist. Heath felt the blade cut to the bone.
Lanfer cried out, dropping his dagger.
Heath rammed his dagger into Lanfer’s stomach and turned the blade.
Lanfer fell to his knees, then forward, driving the blade in deep.
Heath stood, breathing hard, his sword in hand, waiting as the pool of Lanfer’s blood grew larger.
“I’m pretty sure he’s dead,” came a whisper.
Heath stepped back, still eyeing the man’s body. “Atira, are you—”
Atira choked back a sob. “I think he broke my shoulder. Oh, Heath, last time, last time, it took forty days to heal. Forty days. I—”
Heath started to laugh weakly. He kicked Lanfer’s body over, watching for any sign of life. There was none.
“Eln will make me drink that elements-cursed tea,” Atira moaned. “Maybe you should just grant me mercy.” She had slid down the stone and knelt there, her hair falling around her, her dress ruined and bloodied.
“The tea is bad.” Heath choked out a laugh, then moved to her side. “But you’ll be alive to drink it.” He knelt, setting his weapons to one side. He was afraid to touch her. Every inch of her was bruised and scraped, her one shoulder oddly hunched forward.
“I’m going to have to drink buckets.” She eyed him through her hair. “You should clean those weapons, you know.” She lisped slightly; her lip was still bleeding and swollen.
Heath snorted a strangled laugh, reached out, and gently brushed her hair out of her eyes. “I will, I will. But let’s get you to the healers first.” He looked behind her. “You almost wore through those bindings.” Her poor wrists were bloodied.
“Almost,” she muttered. “You got to kill him.”
Heath picked up a dagger. “I’m going to cut you loose.” He paused. “It’s going to hurt.”
Atira rolled her eyes. “It can’t be any worse than—”
Heath slit the cloth bindings.
Atira screamed as her hands parted and her shoulder shifted its position. “Oh, yes it can,” she shrieked. “Yes it can! Skies above!”
Heath leaned back as she panted through the pain. “Now where is my stoic Plains warrior, eh?”
She glared at him, then used her good hand to brace the other. “I am never wearing a dress again. Ever. He’d never have broken my shoulder if I hadn’t been wearing that foolish piece of nothing.”
“Never?” Heath asked plaintively.
“Never,” Atira said, moaning as she gripped her bad arm with the good one. “I’d rather be naked.”
“You are so beautiful,” Heath said, letting his hands hover over her, looking for a safe place to offer comfort.
She eyed him through her hair. “I am covered in sweat, blood, and vomit.”
“I know,” Heath said, weak with relief. “And more precious than anything in this world or the next.” He leaned over and kissed her, thanking every power that ever was that she was safe.
Her lips moved over his for just a moment, returning the kiss. But then she spoke against his mouth. “Ow.”
“I need to get you to a healer,” Heath said, leaning back. “I can carry—”
“Don’t you dare,” Atira growled.
Footsteps, running up from below. Heath went for his sword, but relaxed when Tec popped his head up. “Captain, you’re wanted, sir,” Tec said, scrambling out as Dustin followed close behind.
“Ya got him.” Dustin was looking at Lanfer’s body. “Good on ya, Captain.”
“Who wants me?” Heath asked.
“The Warlord. The chamber’s been searched and he won’t let them seal the doors until you’re there. Seems the babe is coming fast,” Tec said cheerfully. But then his eyes popped. “Sun God, she’s naked!”
Atira muttered something under her breath.
Heath choked off a laugh. “Get me a cloak, quick as you can,” he commanded.
Both Tec and Dustin disappeared from view.
“Very well, my lady.” Heath knelt back down, using a scrap of cloth from her dress to clean his blades before sheathing them. “If you won’t let me carry you, let’s see if we can get you on your feet. We’ll support each other.”
“That will do.” Atira took a deep breath and reached out to him with her good hand. It took some doing, but she was on her feet when Dustin returned to hand Heath a cloak, his eyes politely averted.
“We’ll see to this, Captain,” Dustin said, gesturing to Lanfer’s body.
Atira groaned as the weight of the cloak settled on her shoulders. Heath pulled her good arm over his shoulders and wrapped his other arm around her waist as they started down. “Stupid stairs,” Atira gasped. “You city-dwellers and your love of up.”
Heath decided that silence was really the only answer that was safe.
They had rounded the first turn when the stairwell filled with golden light that passed through and left them blinking.
“What was that?” Heath asked.
“I don’t know,” Atira sighed as she took the next step. “And right now, I really don’t care.”
They’d reached the door of the Queen’s chamber when a woman’s cry rang out.
Heath looked at Atira, who nodded in answer to his unasked question. “The Warprize’s time is upon her.”