His eyes closed and he drifted off to sleep.
Poor man. Amariwatched as his chin hit his chest. She admired his quick thinking. She’d never have thought, never have dared, really, to assert herself so. But he’d done it as if it were truth.
Dalan’s tiny hand hit her chin, and she looked down as he released her nipple, fast asleep. She took up the swaddling cloth, and rewrapped him carefully, setting him back in the fortress of pillows. Lara still slept, so she’d let the child tell her when she was hungry. Amari drank the tea that Orval had brought, then settled back, reciting a small prayer to the Harmony of the Hearth with a grateful heart.
How long she slept, she didn’t know, but Lara’s fussing woke her. Amari set her to the breast, pleased when once again the baby girl latched on without issue.
Orval was still asleep, slumped in the chair, head back. She saw no reason to wake him.
Time enough for that.
Once Lara was finished, and burped, Amari re-swaddled her, and then eased out from the blankets to search out the privy. Bare foot on wooden floor, she yawned as she made her way there and back, then paused. There was a new noise, a scratching sound. Did Orval have mice? Certainly there was enough paper here to draw them, but his housekeeping hadn’t seemed quite that bad. And on the third floor, surely not.
But the scratching continued. There was enough light through the windows for Amari to make her way farther down the hall, away from the kitchen, to what had to be the storeroom Orval had mentioned, hours earlier. There was a door there, bolted on this side; the scratching came from the other side.
“Is someone there?” Amari asked.
“Finally,” came a soft, female voice. “Open the door.”
Amari hesitated, but Orval had seemed to trust the woman she’d met the previous night. She pulled the bolt back.
“Here,” Winter was quiet, her bells and those lovely bracelets gone. She thrust some bundles and blankets, and at least two baskets of food, into Orval’s rooms. Amari took them carefully. “Wait,” the woman said, and disappeared into the gloom beyond the doorway, returning moments later with an armful of cloth and hammer and nails. She slipped through and shut the door.
Amari opened her mouth, but Winter shook her head. “Wait,” she whispered. With a sudden clash, drums and music vibrated through the wall.
“Help me,” Winter said, speaking in a normal tone, and together the women nailed the old tapestry to cover the door. It was faded and tattered, with at least one hole. Winter stepped back and gave it a nod. “Perfect. Looks like its always been there.”
“Orval is sleeping,” Amari said.
“We need to wake him,” Winter gathered up two bundles and one basket. “I don’t have much time.”
Orval was already waking as they came into the room. “Winter?” he asked, his voice rough. He winced as he moved, stiff from sleeping in the chair.
“What possessed you to claim her as your wife?” Winter asked softly, after glancing at the babes on the bed.
“I—” Orval sat straight up.
“Smarter than I gave you credit for, that’s certain.” Winter put her burdens at his feet. “Here’s some worn nappies, and swaddling cloths.”
“How did you know that I…” Orval glanced at Amari.
“Because that swaggering fool Ussin swaggered in and demanded housing for his men and wanted to know if I knew your business.” Winter put her hands on her hips. “And I told him that you are a crazy old bookworm who never ventures out and rarely deigns to talks to whores, and that for all I knew, you preferred men for bed partners.”
“I always talk to you!” Orval sputtered. Amari covered her smile.
Winter rolled her eyes. “I lied, Orval. I also told him the cost to house his so-called guards and that it needed to be paid up front, in good, solid coin and that until then they could stand in the rain for all I cared, wyvern, airion, grass snake, or whoever.
“And when he announced to my lounge, which was full of guests, that you’d twins, I said that I thought you were out to increase your royal stipend so you could continue to live off the backs of people who pay their taxes.”
“What?” Orval covered his face. “Winter—”
Winter knelt by his chair. “Orval, I fear he means you harm. I feartheymean you harm. What better way to solidify their hold on the throne than to rid themselves of those of the Blood?”
“But why?” Orval uncovered his face, looking so very miserable that Amari’s heart ached for him. “Winter, I am no threat. I have no political power, no wealth, no contacts. How can I threaten him?”
Winter glanced at Amari. “Whatever else you’ve gotten pulled into, youareof the Blood. The Wyverns just fought a bloody, vicious civil war. King Xyrath can’t yet be confident in his rule.” Winter struggled back to her feet. “I’ve covered the passage on both sides. Get your sister’s things out, make the place look more lived in. Clear away some of your clutter. I brought enough food for a few days. It’s better than that crap you eat. The empty baskets can serve as cradles. Make sure it appears that you share that bed.”
Orval flushed red. “The procession is this morning?” he asked, clearly changing the subject.
