Vren nodded and left.
Amari had sat in silence all this time. She looked sad and defeated. “I should have thought,” she whispered. “About the cord. I didn’t think—”
“It’s no matter,” Orval assured her, taking a breath, trying to calm himself. “Winter said she saw nothing, and she means it.”
Amari nodded, patting her boy’s back with hard firm pats. Orval frowned and tried to copy her method with Lara. The babe was a warm burden on his shoulder, her tiny face close to his.
“Your sister?” Amari asked, her eyes averted.
It was hard to try to talk past the lump in his throat. “My sister and her husband died two years ago, of the Sweat. She was expecting—” he couldn’t find the words.
“I’m so sorry,” Amari whispered. “I don’t really need—”
“No,” Orval managed. “Those things have been sitting in storage for long enough. Use what you need. She would have liked that.”
Lara sneezed in his ear.
Orval started. “Was that a burp?” he asked.
Amari smiled and nodded.
Orval managed a smile back. “Then let me hold these two while you eat a bowl of porridge. I know it’s not much and rather bland, but it’s warm and filling.” He heard himself babble on, about porridge and tea. He must certainly sound like a complete fool, but that glazed look in Amari’s eyes told him that the words didn’t matter.
She sank to the stool and reached for the pot to serve herself. He saw that her hands trembled; he suspected she was exhausted. He wanted her to feel safe and distracted long enough to get her into his bed—
No, no, that wasn’t what he meant. Into a warm bed, that was all, and he blushed hot at the very idea and sputtered to a stop, praying he hadn’t said it out loud.
He must not have, praise the elements. The poor woman seemed to sink into herself as she ate, clearly worn and tired.
Vren slipped silently back into the kitchen. “It’s done,” he said. A flicker of a grin flashed over his face. “I didn’t even knock over any books.”
Orval rolled his eyes, grateful for the distraction.
“Could you spare a few pounds of dried pease?” Vren asked. “And a sack or two to carry them?”
“Of course,” Orval said. “I’ve a few dried apples as well, and some bread. Some dried beef for Dust.” He gestured to the shelves.
With a few swift steps, the marcus gathered up the swaddling clothes and Dalan’s dirty nappy as well as supplies for himself and Dust. Then he went to Amari’s side and knelt. “I must go,” he said.
Amari nodded wearily. “My thanks to you, marcus. You saved—”
“Lady, you saved us both. I’ve little knowledge of babes and your courage allowed me to save us all. The Airion House of Xy owes you a great debt.” The marcus reached within his cloak and produced a small carving of a panther. “Take this,” he said, pressing on the figure so it came apart in two halves and handing one half to her.
“This is a token of the marcusi, we who are sworn to the protection of the Blood. If one comes in my name, he or she will bear the other half. And if you have a dire need, hold your half tight, think on aid, and aid will come, as quickly as it can.” The marcus rose to his feet and swung on his pack and cloak.
“I do not even know your name, to ask the Hearth to bless you.” Amari said.
Vren flashed that grin of his and glanced at Orval. “And you can see why I trust this man, who has not once used my name in front of you. But I am Vren of the Marcusi, and all your blessings are welcome.”
“You have them,” Amari’s voice trembled with tears.
“I’ll keep them hidden,” Orval assured them both, wishing he felt a bit more confident.
“I’ll be as quick as I can.” Vren hesitated. “I have her blood memories,” he held out the vial, holding bright red liquid. “Should it stay with—” he nodded toward Lara.
“No,” Orval said, handing him the supplies. “It’s useless without a mage, and Kara gave the permissions to you. Besides, if aught happens, others will need to know. Take it with you.”
“I’ll go,” Vren said. “I’ll let myself out a window and go over the roofs. Best you don’t see me leave.”
