"Elizabeth Vaughan - Chronicles Of The Warlands 02 - Warsworn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Vaughan Elizabeth)

asking about the healing of horses."

"I know, Marcus."

I yawned, tired now that the excitement was over. It had been a brief change from the
monotony of the days since Keir of the Cat, Warlord of the Plain, with his dark hair and
flashing blue eyes, had taken me up on his horse and reclaimed me as his Warprize. I fingered
the leaves that I still held in my hand. Eln would be so pleased to hear that bloodmoss thrived
in this area. I could send him a plant with the next messenger, dig it up, roots and all, and wrap
it in wet cloth. Even his dour face would crack with a smile at the sight. I'd laugh to see itтАФ
except that I wouldn't be there.

Suddenly, it all seemed too much. A flood of sickness rose up in my body, a sickness of the
heart for which there was no cure. I was all too familiar with this feeling, for I was sick for my
home, for the castle and the people that I'd left behind in Water's Fall. For Anna's stew and
Heath's teasing, and my old room with its four familiar stone walls. I'd lived my whole life in
sight of the castle of Water's Fall, and I felt sick at the idea that I'd never see it again. I
sighed, trying not to feel sorry for myself and failing.

"You've not been yourself, Warprize." Marcus had his head turned, and I could just see his
nose and lips under the hood of the cloak. His voice dropped to a low, gentle tone. "You're not
eating, and I'm thinking that you're not sleeping either."

I watched the ground pass below us. "I'm fine."

"Are you pregnant?"

I dropped my head onto his shoulder and groaned. "MarcusтАж"

"It's a fair question." Marcus replied. "Our women take precautions in the field, but you
Xyians have such strange waysтАж"

"I am not pregnant." I growled. I didn't want to think about that, although he was right. I hadn't
taken any precautions. My courses were due any day. But the idea of being pregnant raised
issues that I didn't want to consider. Of things that Keir and I had yet to talk about.

"Then what is wrong, Lara?"

The fact that Marcus was using my name, a rare event, told me that he was worried. I opened
my mouth, but the truth would not come. "I'm fine, Marcus. Truly."

He snorted. "As you say, Warprize." He stiffened in the saddle, and I knew that I had upset
him. This scarred little man had come to mean a great deal to me within a short period of time.
He was fiercely loyal to his Warlord, and I was included in that loyalty. I wasn't sure that was
by virtue of my own self, or the fact that I was Keir's chosen Warprize. Regardless, how could I
confide my worries and fears to him? He already held Xyians in contempt on general principals.
My fretful complaints could only heap wood on that fire.

I settled for an obvious question. "When do you think we'll stop for the night?"