Dalan chortled and let loose with another stream.
“Oh no, not again, you little scamp.” Orval threw a clean cloth over Dalan, cutting off the flow. “We’ll get you under wraps right now.”
“Don’t bother swaddling him,” Amari said. “I’ll tuck him under my other arm and give him the breast.”
“Oh,” Orval looked uncomfortable but willing. Amari used her finger to break the suction with Lara, who protested with a small cry as Amari repositioned her under her arm. Thankfully, Lara went right back to sucking fiercely.
Amari took Dalan next, having no fear that her son would have trouble. He too went right for the teat, and she settled with both under her arms as she cradled their heads.
“You need to eat,” Orval said.
“After they do,” she insisted. “I can eat after they finish.” The tugging at her nipples was pleasurable to both her body and her heart as her milk flowed.
“Then you eat,” Orval said to the marcus as he pulled a covered crock from the oven with the sleeve of his robe. He used a rag to remove the top, revealing a thick, yellow paste.
The marcus grimaced but pulled a stool to the table. He took a bowl and spoon from Orval and took a bite. “As good as I remember,” Vren teased, but started shoveling the porridge in quickly.
“Cheap, plentiful and easy,” Orval retorted and poured more tea.
They sat in silence for a moment; the only sound was Dalan snuffling as he nursed. Outside, the bells still rang, muffled and distant. Rain pattered against the window, a steady rhythm. Below them, Amari could hear low talk and that thumping, but the laughter was gone. The tea had given her enough energy to focus. “Where are we?” she asked.
“In Edenrich, in my apartments, over a whorehouse.” Orval answered, pouring his own tea.
Amari’s eyes went wide as the marcus sighed. “Perhaps a little less honesty,” he said to Orval.
“I’m a terrible liar,” Orval said with a smile. “This was a warehouse, long ago, and these were the accounting halls. It’s now a pleasure house, the House of the Weary Traveler, run by Madam Winter. She caters to an older clientele. Not bad neighbors, and these rooms are perfect for an impoverished scholar like myself. All these shelves, you see. Copper lanterns, so no open flames. The ancient pipes still run water, and the privies are water-flushed. Uses the heat from boilers. Really quite ingenious, when you—”
“He’d go on about the history if you let him.” the marcus interrupted. “It’s safe. An older, fairly impoverished neighborhood, and his locks are decent.”
“You’re the only one that picks them,” Orval snorted. “No one else bothers now that they know my treasure is a collection—”
“Hoard,” the marcus interjected.
“Collection,” Orval emphasized. “Of books, papers, scrolls.” He puffed up. “Almost as large as the Royal Library.”
“Almost,” Vren said.
Their expressions told Amari that this was an old game between them. Orval, looking offended, and the glint in the marcus’s eyes. But then the marcus’s face grew serious as he stared at Orval. “I can’t stay,” his eyes dropped to the almost empty bowl. “We were seen, before we left the battlefield.”
“We were?” Amari clutched the babes to her, then willed herself to ease up. They both kept sucking, unconcerned, innocent of the danger.
The marcus nodded. “We lost them in the rain, well before the walls. But they will hunt, and I must lead them off.” He looked at Orval and then nodded to Amari. “And the babes can’t risk going further.”
Orval nodded, and the humor was gone from his eyes. “What do you need?”
“Dalan’s dirty nappy, to go with Lara’s,” the marcus said. “If I can lose them, I will double-back. Then we will need to find a safer place to hide them. No offense.”
“None taken,” Orval said. “How long?”
“A few days,” the marcus scraped his bowl clean with his spoon. His eyes were hooded. “Maybe more. My guess is that it won’t be safe for my charges to move until the Wyverns are occupied with the coronation.”
Orval looked at Amari with worry in his eyes. “This place is not set up for babies,” he said. “I don’t know what they need, or…” his voice trailed off.
“They need warmth,” she reassured him, “dry nappies, and my breasts. That’s all, really.”
“Well, then,” Orval nodded. “We’ll cope, yes? I’ve never entertained such before, but we will find—”
A wooden door creaked open, and a voice called. “Orval! Orval, have you heard?”
