“The skies be with you,” Orval said. “And the stars light the way.”
Amari was sotired she didn’t even realize the marcus had left until the door closed softly behind him. It was an effort to drag the spoon through the porridge, and bring it to her mouth, but she forced herself to focus, to chew and swallow. It was bland and rather chewy, but it was warm and filled the empty spaces in her stomach. She needed to eat and drink, needed her strength to feed both her babes.
Blinking, she suddenly found the bowl empty, her spoon scraping the sides.
Numbness crept over her and everything seemed distant. Her tiredness went to the bone.
“Up,” Orval urged, and she obeyed. He held both babes, one in each arm, and nodded to the door. She opened it, grateful that it moved smoothly, and trailed after him, putting one foot in front of the other, reaching out to the walls for support.
Another door, this one to a bedchamber. There sat a large four poster bed surrounded by thin curtains of various colors, faded and worn. A small mountain of brocade pillows at the head, the blankets tossed back. The walls were covered in faded tapestries of landscapes and airions dancing in the clouds. Every surface was covered with books and papers and pens and bottles of ink. The smell of old paper and dust filled the air.
Here and there hung tiny copper lanterns, flames dancing within. It felt safe and warm and…she almost sobbed with relief.
“Here now,” Orval set the babes in the middle of the bed. “They can sleep here this night, close to you. I’ll make a wall of pillows, so they don’t fall.”
“They won’t roll,” Amari said.
“Still,” Orval looked up. “I will feel safer.” He gestured to the open side. “For you. You’ll probably find something to wear in those trunks and the privy is through that door.” Eyes averted, he was busy arranging pillows that weren’t needed.
Amari opened a trunk to find women’s clothing, bundled haphazardly. She didn’t have to dig deep to find a bedgown, smelling faintly of lavender. She pulled it out and retreated to the privy.
She returned to find Orval waiting, all the lanterns out but one. He gestured her to the bed.
“What of you?” she asked as she climbed in and pulled up the covers.
“Oh, I’ll be fine,” he said. “I fall asleep at my desk regularly.”
“But your leg,” she said, blinking.
“I’ve lived with it a long time, lady,” Orval said softly. “Now sleep.”
“I don’t think I can.” Amari leaned back against the softness, looking at the babes beside her, surrounded by a fortress of pillows. So many cushions, oddly placed. Was that for his comfort, with his leg? He’d been so kind. Such warm blue eyes…another wave of tiredness crashed over her and she fought a yawn.
Dalan yawned as well, smacking his lips in his sleep. Her son, her boy, safe and warm and beside her. She was still in disbelief. But the pillows behind her were soft and supportive and the blankets were thick. She lay back, eyes wide. “So much has happened, I don’t—” she yawned. She was exhausted, but her mind was racing. She had to sleep; the babes would need feeding again in another few hours.
“I have the perfect remedy,” Orval said. He cleared a chair of a stack of books, then went to one of the shelves. In the light of the lantern, his pale skin glowed; he seemed very pleased with himself. “It’s theEpic of Xyson. This is Botswell’s interpretation. Not that I agree with all of his ideas, mind, but it’s a fair enough representation.”
Amari blinked at him. “I don’t know that book,” she said, and curled on one side, facing him. The bedding started to warm around her body.
“Oh, it’s a classic piece of Xyian literature, although its historical accuracy is challenged regularly. Let me read to you.” Orval settled in the chair, opened the slim volume, and started to read. “Consider the tactics necessary against horse archers.”
The words meant little to her, but his voice was warm and steady, droning on, drowning out her racing thoughts. She took a breath, and then another, and then…
Never failed. Orvalwatched Amari, waiting a moment to make sure she was really asleep, before he rose and left the room. TheEpic of Xysonwas old and ancient and fascinating to him, but well, even he had to acknowledge it had its dry parts. It had never failed to lull his sister to sleep when she’d…
He’d caught the whiff of lavender from the chests. Lara’s favorite. Grief rose up in his heart. His sister Lara had been lovely and loving, and…
And she’d have scolded him about the dishes in the kitchen, embarrassed to see it in such
a state.
Orval smiled at the memory, rose, and quietly left the room. They’d be safe enough with that copper lantern. He didn’t want to leave them in a strange place, in the dark. With the door open, he’d hear if they roused. He wouldn’t be able to sleep himself; his blood still raced with the start Madam Winter had given him.
And there were dishes to be done.
He’d set another pot of pease porridge going, then close the oven for the night. The morning would bring more worries, and the elements knew he had questions. Amari had a faint accent, and she didn’t know theEpic, so she was certainly from a distant land. How had she come to be wet nurse to Kara?
Thunder rolled overhead as he set to work. Vren would be out in the wet and cold, but Orval knew that he’d the skills to move quick and unseen. Safe.
