"Excuse me, Marshal," he said. "But if you need healing for your warriors, we can help you."
Jenoe smiled, though he looked puzzled. "Thank you…"
"Barjen, sir."
"Thank you, Barjen. Tell me, where is the eldest?"
The man shook his head. "She grieves for her son, and she has asked me to speak for our people in her place."
"What about the curse?" Tirnya asked.
"We'll use care when we heal your men," Barjen said. "Mander saved a man who should have died. It's not surprising that the curse took him. We won't be so bold, and if a spell does go wrong, the cost shouldn't be as great."
Tirnya's father appeared to weigh this for a few moments. "Very well. We appreciate your offer, Barjen. We have many wounded and not much time to get them ready for the journey back home. So however many of them you can heal, we'd be most grateful."
"Then we'll get started right away."
The army had its own healers as well, men trained in the use of salves, tonics, and poultices, and for the rest of the day everyone in Jenoe's force focused their energies on aiding those who had been wounded. The Mettai used their magic on those whose injuries were most serious, while Stelpana's healers tended to the rest.
Tirnya did what she could to help the healers who had marched from Qalsyn, preferring to keep her distance from the Mettai, though because of distaste for their magic or fear of the curse she couldn't say. She also avoided Enly. The mere thought of him roiled her emotions in ways she couldn't quite comprehend, and she needed time to sort out her feelings. She thought him arrogant and insufferable, and though there had been a time when she was attracted to him despite his many faults, that was long ago.
At least, this is what she had been telling herself for the past several hours. But she would never forget the panic that gripped her when she saw him fall from the talons of that eagle. Her heart had quailed at the thought of his death, of having to live the rest of her days without him. Half the time he made her want to tear out her hair. They bickered constantly, disagreed about almost everything. But she'd known him nearly all her life.
That's what it was! They'd been… well, yes, friends… for so long that she couldn't imagine not having him around. He was as familiar to her as her parents. This made sense to her. She even nodded to herself, drawing an odd look from the healer she was assisting at the moment.
He was like a brother. Anyone would have been terrified of losing a brother.
But with that thought came a memory, unbidden and unwelcome. Her vivid recollections of the passion they had shared, the taste of his skin, the feel of his lips on her neck and breasts, gave the lie to the idea that he had ever been anything akin to a brother to her.
"Captain."
She started, spilling some of the tonic the healer had asked her to hold for him.
He glared at her and she winced. "I'm sorry. Do you need me to get more for you?"
The man forced himself to smile, as if remembering that he was speaking to the daughter of Jenoe Onjaef. "No. Thank you. You must be… You've had a long day. Perhaps you should rest."
"Yes, all right," she said, knowing a dismissal when she heard one.
She placed the vessel carefully on the ground beside the healer and walked away, taking care once more to steer clear of Enly. Without intending to, she walked right into the Fairlea army and had nearly made it all the way to where Cries was giving orders to his men before she realized her error.
Tirnya and Gries had barely spoken since the night they kissed, the night Cries made it clear to Tirnya that he wished to spend the rest of his life with her. So much had happened since then. They'd fought battles with the white-hairs, Gries had tried to convince her father to use Torgan's piece of basket, Enly had nearly died.
She really wasn't sure how she felt about Fairlea's lord heir-what was it with her and lord heirs? Not wishing to face him right now, she turned quickly and started back toward the Qalsyn camp.
"Tirnya!"
She forced a smile onto her face and turned. Cries was striding toward her, his golden hair dancing in the wind, the late-day sun shining in his dark eyes. Gods, he was handsome.
"Were you looking for me?" he asked.
"Um… not really. I was just… I was wandering."
He gave a little frown. "Oh. All right. How's Enly?"
She glanced back over her shoulder, as if she could see Enly from there. "I think he's doing well. He's tired. The Mettai tell us it'll be days before he can walk again. I'm not even sure he can ride."
"Still, it's remarkable that he's alive at all."
Tirnya nodded. "Yes, it is."
They stood for a moment in awkward silence. She avoided looking at him, but she could feel him watching her.
"You're angry with me," he finally said. "You think I was wrong to speak to Torgan and to tell your father we should use the plague."
She shook her head. "That's not… That doesn't matter anymore."
Ile reached out and gently took hold of her hand. She made herself meet his gaze.
"Have you given more thought to what we talked about the other night?" he asked.
"There's hardly been time."
He gave her what had to be the most beautiful smile she'd ever seen on a man. "Then will you give it more thought now?"
She exhaled, closing her eyes briefly. "Cries, I…" She shook her head, looking away again.
The smile on his face changed, grew more forced. She might even have seen a touch of bitterness in his eyes. "I think I understand."
"You do?"
I le released her hand and laughed. "You don't even know your own heart, do you?"
"What?"
"You and Enly deserve each other. You're both so certain that you don't care about the other, when it's plain to the rest of us that you're both being fools."
Tirnya opened her mouth, closed it again.
"I've left you speechless, have I?"
"You have no right… Enly and I are… You know nothing about me!"
"Forgive me, Tirnya," Gries said, smiling again. "But I do think that you and Enly are pretending there's nothing between you when in fact there is. And I think that I've had enough of playing that game with you." He regarded her for another moment, then shook his head and walked away.
Tirnya watched him go, feeling that she was in a haze. Eventually she returned to her father's camp, where she found Jenoe staring across the battle plain at the Fal'Borna, who had made camp within sight of the army of Stelpana.
"Is everything all right, Father?"
He started. Facing her he offered a wan smile and nodded. "I think so. They haven't done anything to indicate that they've reconsidered. How's Enly?"
"Why does everyone assume that I've been checking up on Enly? I'll have you know that I haven't seen him in a couple of hours now."
Jenoe merely raised an eyebrow.
"Sorry, Father," she said sheepishly.
He said nothing, though he did appear to be suppressing a smile. "What has you so amused?" Tirnya asked crossly.
"Nothing," her father said, raising his hands to calm her. "Nothing at all."
"Father?"
He shrugged, a small grin on his face. "I just think your mother would be amused to know that you've got two lord heirs falling over themselves trying to get you to notice them. She's always been afraid that serving in my army would keep you from marrying well. That doesn't seem to be the case at all."
Her cheeks burned, but she had to smile. "How is it you know all this?"
"I'm not that old, Tirnya. And where my daughter is concerned, I miss nothing."
"So what should I do?"
He shook his head and kissed her brow. "That, I can't say. You know your heart. Or at least you ought to."
"Gries says that I don't."
He started to say something, then stopped himself.
"Tell me," she said.
Jenoe hesitated. "I think Gries wishes that you didn't. But he knows better, and deep down, so do you."
They started back toward Stelpana the following morning, under the watchful eyes of the Fal'Borna. A haze of smoke hung over the battle plain from the pyres the Qirsi had built the night before for their dead. Enly had spent a restless night, kept from sleep by the stench of burning bodies and the pain in his limbs and ribs. He felt too weary for this journey, but he knew that he had no choice. Every part of his body ached. He trusted that the eldest's son had done all he could to heal his broken bones and bruised organs, but he was sure that had the man still been alive he would have counseled rest. By all rights Enly should have been dead. He feared that he was asking too much of his battered body to travel so soon.