“Hearth mother,” Amari said immediately. “With many hearths under the shelter of mine. Ten children, with lands and gardens and livestock and crops as far as the eye could see.”
“Ten children?”
Amari laughed at his expression. “Well, Hearths adopt, you know. There are always children in need.” She smiled. “And I would preside over all as Hearth Mother.”
“A benevolent matriarch, I am sure.” Orval said.
“A benevolent matriarch,” Amari agreed. She hesitated, then asked. “What of you, Orval? Were there not marriage plans for you?”
“Not for a cripple,” Orval’s mouth grew tight. “The only ones who wanted to marry me were only interested in the Bloodline. My parents made short work of them. After my parents died, I left the court and I think I faded from memory.”
“But you must have had dreams?” she asked. “Surely you had a dream, before all this?”
“A dream?” His voice grew grim. “I did not let myself dream. I intended to live out my life lost in my books. Hadn’t thought beyond needing to hole up against the world.” He stifled a yawn. “Tell me more of yours.
“Children and grandchildren and great grandchildren running about my feet,” Amari said. “Gardens and herds of fat cattle. Dogs and cats, horses and pigs. All sprawling around a huge manor house.”
“All those children,” Orval yawned, blinked at her sleepily. “You will need a school and teachers. And maybe a library.”
Amari smiled, watching his eyes slowly drift closed. So different from Eijer, in every way. So smart and kind. His strength was different, too. He’d offered her a contract without a hesitation, to protect her and the babes.
She relaxed into the warmth of the bed, reaching out to touch him lightly on the shoulder with her fingertips. Maybe her dream could include—
Orval’s eyes fluttered open. “Sorry. You were saying?”
“Sleep,” she said.
“But your dreams,” he protested.
“We should sleep while we can,” she said. “Shared dreams are lovely, but dawn comes with something I’d let myself forget. All the work that dreams require.”
Orval gave a slight snort as his eyes closed again. “You are not alone in that. No one ever wants to think of the work.”
Amari watched as he slipped into sleep. Such a lovely man. He was everything that Eijer wasn’t, and so much more.
She yawned, relaxed into the bed and closed her own eyes. Perhaps a bit more sleep—
Dalan’s hungry cry cracked the air.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“Heard you’re leaving us tomorrow,” Aramal said.
Vren looked up from his seat on an overturned bucket. Aramal was standing in the stall door, looking relaxed, a harness in his hands.
Vren smiled at the man and gestured him in. “Harvest done?” he asked.
Aramal had understood that Vren couldn’t sleep within four walls. He’d offered an empty stall in the barn, used to store feed. Warm, what with all the animals. Vren had spread his bedroll on a pile of hay and slept like a rock.
There was only one horse in the barn, thankfully, an old plow mare in a box stall. Vren made sure to keep his distance from her as he came and went.
“Aye, and it looks to be a good one.” Aramal seated himself on a barrel across from Vren and began to check the leather straps for wear. There were no idle hands in Athelbryght. “You sure it’s a good idea, heading up into the mountains now? What of the weather?”
Vren shrugged. “I’ve a need to get home.”
“First I ever heard anyone call the Wastes ‘home,’” Aramal said. He pulled some tools from his pockets and began to work, then paused to gesture at the blanket where Vren had emptied his pack. “So what’s this about, then?”
Vren had tossed most of the contents of his pack into the center of the blanket and now was sorting everything, spreading the items out. “Been traveling for a bit, and one acquires things, more than ya know. Just checking to see what needs repair.”
