Still, the worst was in the waking, and the sooner he forced himself up and moved, the quicker the pain would leave him. But the first movements were the worst.
He got to his feet with another groan, and started stretching, trying to work every muscle to ease the ache deep within. He could hear Snowfall moving about in the main tent, so there’d be kavage, and breakfast soon enough. His stomach rumbled at the thought. He reached for his clothing as the flap was pulled back.
“Morning,” he said as he pulled on his tunic.
“Good morning, Warlord.”
Simus jerked his head around.
Elois stood there, tray of gurt and kavage in hand.
Chapter Thirty
If Elois were to be honest, she rather enjoyed the stunned look on her Warlord’s face.
“Where is my Token-bearer?” Simus’s dark skin furrowed into a deep frown.
“I am the current candidate for your Token-bearer,” Elois said. She couldn’t keep her satisfaction from her voice, and didn’t bother trying. “I challenged and defeated Snowfall in the dying light of the evening sun.” She held up the pitcher. “Kavage, Warlord?”
Simus ignored her offering. “Why wasn’t I told?” He was still frowning as he reached for his trous.
“Elder Haya forbade it,” Elois said. “She said you were not to be woken.”
Simus finished pulling on his trous and stomped into his boots. “Where is she?”
“Elder Haya?” Elois couldn’t resist asking.
“Snowfall,” came the growl as Simus finished dressing.
Elois dropped her eyes and her teasing tone. “I do not know, Warlord,” she said. “She showed me how your tent was set up, told me you like your kavage strong, and left with her gear.” Elois raised her eyes then and gave him a narrow look. “As is the way of challenges, yes?”
“Yes.” Simus belted on his weapons.
Good, he wasn’t going to be difficult. One never knew with Warlords. “Tsor says to tell you that Yers is with the healer,” Elois said. “Yers is well enough, although he has not yet woken. The Council tent will be raised today, and Eldest Elder Essa has sent word that warriors should—”
She kept talking, even though she knew he wasn’t really listening. He was distracted, clearly.
“You need to eat something,” Elois finally gave up. “Since you aren’t hearing anything I say.”
“Uh,” Simus said. He took the mug she thrust in his face. He looked down at it like he’d never seen it before. “I need...I have to find...” Simus drew in a deep breath. “Do you think I am bewitched?” he demanded.
Elois looked at him seriously. “No, Warlord,” she replied. “But it is better for you and the army you lead that she is not Token-bearer. I am the better choice.”
The stunned look vanished from the Warlord’s eyes, replaced by a flash of heat. “That choice is mine to make,” he growled, raising the mug and draining it in a gulp.
Elois lowered her eyes and bowed her head. “Yes, Warlord.”
“Have Tsor gather the necessary warriors for the tent raising,” Simus commanded, taking a handful of gurt from the bowl. “I will return shortly.”
“Yes, Warlord.” Elois watched as the tent flap fell closed behind him. Only then did she let herself grin.
Tsor stuck his head in the tent. “The Warlord is headed for Essa’s tent.”
“Eldest Elder Essa’s tent,” Elois scolded. “If you would be Second, best you use his title at all times.”
“I will.” Tsor stepped in, eyeing the tray in her hands. “Is that kavage?”
Elois nodded. “We may as well eat. I doubt he will be back soon. He seeks Snowfall.”
