Warcry Read Online Free PDF

reached out as if to brush dirt from her chest. Atira knocked his hand aside. “So? What does that mean?”
    “I don’t know,” Heath admitted. “But it’s something that we need to keep in mind.”
    “The Warprize will know this?” Prest asked.
    “I’m not sure.” Heath shrugged. “Lara and I were raised together, but once she decided to become a healer, she spent more time with her teachers than in the castle. She’s never really been a part of court life, like I have.”
    “Ah,” Atira said. “She’s not of the tribe’s tents.”
    “Xy is not all one big tribe.” Heath gave her a sharp look. “And you need to remember that Xyians do not have tokens.”
    Atira rolled her eyes. “‘Xyians do not have tokens,’” she said mockingly. “Xyians may use their fists if provoked, but only fists. Xyians give warning before their swords are drawn.” She snorted. “We are to treat them as children. We are not to take insult at their words.”
    Heath flashed her a grin. “Oh, you can be insulted. Just don’t draw your sword and kill them with a stroke. Like Keir did when Lord Durst insulted Lara.”
    “The man did not die,” Atira said.
    “Close enough,” Heath said. “But even the Warlord acknowledged that he had made a mistake.”
    “True,” Prest said, then started toward the camp. Heath gestured Atira on and followed behind.
    They had the Xyians’ attention the moment they emerged from the trees. Atira focused on the mounted man—about Heath’s age, was her estimate, although it was hard to tell with Xyians.
    His upper garment was padded and worked with threads that sparkled in the sun. The effect was pretty, but Atira was certain that her dagger could rip right through the fabric. His hair was short and as blond as her own. She couldn’t see his eye color from here, but she could see his glare. And it was focused on Heath.
    “Lanfer,” Heath greeted the man as they walked closer.
    “Heath.” Lanfer dismounted, handing the reins to one of his warriors. He tugged at his clothing as he gave Atira a glance, looking down his nose. “Still chasing your Plains whore?”
    Atira jerked to a stop in surprise.
    Heath took two steps past her and punched Lanfer right in the face.

CHAPTER 5
     
    HEATH ALMOST REGRETTED THE BLOW BEFORE HE swung.
    Almost. The crunch of bone under his knuckles was too satisfying to have regrets. And watching Lanfer’s eyes roll up into his head as he collapsed in a boneless heap—that was perfect. But the looks on the faces of the Plains warriors around him told Heath they’d not let him forget this for a long time to come. All his talk of restraint and patience . . . and he swung the first blow.
    More than worth it, though.
    Until Lara emerged from her tent.
    She was wrapped in Keir’s cloak, her curly brown hair floating in a cloud around her head. Keir was just behind her. Heath winced inside, anticipating her response. The old Lara would have rushed to aid Lanfer while scolding Heath up one side and down the other.
    To Heath’s relief, Lara just lifted an eyebrow, then looked around, her gaze coming to rest on him. They both must have heard the insult through the walls of the tent. Heath gave her a slight nod, accepting responsibility. Keir caught the look as well. They both kept their faces straight, watching as Lanfer’s escort picked him up off the ground.
    Keir took Lara’s elbow and escorted her the few steps to a stool nearby. His face was neutral, but Heath knew the man well enough to see the understanding twinkle in his eyes.
    Lara sat and arranged her cloak over her belly. Keir took a position behind her, crossing his arms over his chest. The man looked imposing with his armor and two swords strapped to his back.
    Lanfer’s escort had him back on his feet, and it looked like he was recovering his wits. He was holding his nose, blood dripping on his fancy doublet.
    “Marcus,” Lara said. “A cloth for the gentleman.”
    Marcus looked none too