Chapter 24: The Field in Spring

Spring came to the valleys early that year.

I woke on the morning the old war would have begun, with the sun on the window and a man's arm across my waist.

For a moment my body braced.

It remembered nine mornings that began this way.

Then Rorik breathed out against my hair, warm and slow, and the bracing went out of me.

"You're awake," he said, with his eyes shut.

"It's the day."

"I know."

"We could stay in bed."

"We could." He opened one eye. "But you won't."

He was right.

We rode out together before the hold was up, and we did not take swords.

The field lay a morning's ride north of the Ironclad wall, where the river bent.

I had not seen it since the night of the Stone.

I stopped my horse at the edge and sat there a while.

The mud was gone.

Green had come up through it, thick and soft, and between the new grass there were small white flowers by the thousand.

Where my warriors had fallen, the Moonflare women had planted pine saplings in the autumn.

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