As Bercie started to explain, Rosalind appeared on the stairs and looked at Amari, who leaned closer to Orval. “I am going to go to the babes.”
Orval nodded. “I’ll come up when they’re gone,” he whispered, squeezing her hand.
“Good,” she smiled, pulling her fingers slowly from his. “Don’t be long.” She turned and went up the stairs, eager to get the babes settled. And make her own preparations.
It wasn’t over an hour before Orval knocked, slid inside their room, and closed and bolted the door behind him.
He looked exhausted, sagging back against the wooden door. “They’re gone,” he said. “They should return in the morning with food and things to make Aunt Xydell more comfortable.
“I am fairly sure Mother Bercie thinks a knife in my ribs would be a comfort to her.” Orval shuddered. “Her hate is almost palpable.”
Amari stood from where she sat on the end of the bed and started toward him. He was disheveled, his curls all this way and that, and the blood had dried on his neck.
He looked wonderful.
“Turns out the mayor is Bercie’s son. Should have seen his face. It went from hate at the door to confused by the bedside. Orval wiped his brow. “Mind, the hate is not for us personally,” he gave her a weak smile. “But for Xy, for any authority, actually. All I can offer them is the truth of how bad things are,” He chuckled. “They keep looking at Roth for directions; I think I confuse them.”
He stood straighter, looking at the baskets. “Babes fed? Are you hungry? Rosalind managed to make some—” he blinked as she stepped closer. “Amari?”
Amari touched his neck. “Does it hurt?” she asked, seeing the bruising, the split flesh. “Did one of the healers check it?”
“No, no, just a small nick, really.” Orval stood still, as if wary. “The healers were busy with Xydell, said they would be back in the morning as well.” He paused. “Are you angry with me?”
“For risking your life for us?” Amari asked.
“For forgetting the password.” Orval sagged. “Roth had a few things to say, after everyone left.”
“You were so strong,” Amari whispered.
“Never so frightened in all my life,” Orval whispered back.
Amari pushed him back against the door and kissed him.
Chapter Forty-One
Orval’s heart filled with joy even as his arms filled with Amari, warm, wonderful woman that she was. Orval returned her kiss with all the passion in his heart. He wrapped his arms around her, felt her breasts press to his chest, and fully engaged in a moment more precious than all the others in his life.
Until she murmured “Hearth Father” in his ear, and dashed cold, icy reality on his dream.
“Amari, no, no.” He broke off the kisses, and eased her away from him. The warmth of her body was replaced with the chill of the truth.
“What?” Amari’s eyes were wide with confusion, her breathing ragged. She reached for him but he caught her hands.
“Amari, this is just the heat of the moment, the elation that we succeeded.” Orval tried to control his own reaction. “This is not what you want.” He had to make her understand. He wanted this, oh, how he wanted this - but it was not right to take advantage. He wanted what was best for her, and he was not—
“It is,” she insisted.
“It’s not,” he answered, smiling sadly, reaching up to cup her cheek. “You are making a mistake you will come to regret.”
“Orval, I—”
“I understand, I do,” he said earnestly. “But I won’t take advantage of you this way, not in the flush of success, of our survival through this whole thing. The last few months have been the best of my life, even with the threat of death,” he looked over at the babes. “They are okay, yes?”
“Yes, of course,” she started. “But—”
“No ‘buts,’” Orval drew a deep breath. “I’m not going to let you make this mistake. I am not right to be one of your Hearth Fathers, and after a few days you will know that and regret this.” He managed to step away from her. “Now, go get under the blankets, or you will catch a chill. I’ll just be a moment.”
He didn’t flee to the privy, exactly, but he didn’t linger. The distance seemed to take forever, but that was only because his leg was tired. Exhaustion was washing over him. Or was it grief?
