“She runs a fine establishment,” Orval said absently.
“Has Satia borne her child?”Amari asked.
“Nah, Lady, the talk was all breathless as to when,” Rasfel said.“That was about all anyone talked of.”
“They didn’t ask you questions?”Jerrold frowned.“Nothing about roads, or conditions, or…” he let his voice trail off as his eyes flicked over Orval, who had opened the bundle and was reading.
“Nothing,” Rasfel said, and held out his mug for a refill.“Ain’t that a crock?If they’re sending an army, they’re sending it blind.I saw no signs of scouts between here and there.”
Ritathan had told Halithe that the Black Hills were worried about an attack, but this was the first she’d really understood what that meant.
“King Xyrath and Queen Satia send greetings,” Orval said.“They’re sending some folk to take a look at the ‘progress of the statuary’ and escort the marble to Edenrich.”He rolled his eyes.“Their words, not mine.”
Jerrold stiffened.“When?”he asked.
“Some time after the birth of the Queen’s babe.They will send a messenger prior.”Orval handed him the letter.“They are opening a portal.”
There were worried looks, then, and muttering from the people around them.Jerrold looked particularly grim.Townspeople welcomed Rasfel home, patting him on the back.Orval thanked him for his speed and there was some talk about the condition of the roads until the man swayed on his feet.
“Enough,” Amari said, holding a sleeping babe.“The rest can wait, we need to be getting these babes in their beds.”She glanced at Halithe.“Aramal and Rye can find their own way back.”
With that, it was gathering up things and making farewells.The music started up again and people drifted back to the dancing.The Festival would go on long into the night.
Halithe found herself yawning on the trip back, and once they were home, by the time the animals and babes were seen too, she was bleary-eyed and sleepy.
“Off with you,” Rosalind said.Halithe went willingly, with just a quick wash before going to her room and setting down the candle by the door.She pulled off her tunic, kicked her trous off and stripped, being careful to grab her spoon from her pocket.
Throwing back the covers, she climbed into bed, pulling the bedding over her and for a moment, she lay still in the darkness, remembering the delight in the day.
Then she recalled Ritathan’s warning.
‘Even if you could break the bond, she might be injured in the process.’
A wave of grief hit her.Perhaps Papa Rye was right, perhaps she would never have what he and Aramal had, what Amari and Orval shared.If they didn’t know how to break the bonds, if the Guildmaster didn’t know what the effect would be, who was Halithe to even think of such a thing?
The cold, hard truth was that she and Caris had only shared the slightest of kisses, the briefest of exchanges.Maybe Halithe was reading too much into it.Maybe it was just a fantasy, a dream, a hope.
Before anguish could overwhelm her, she dug under her pillow for the precious auburn hairs wrapped in a bit of cloth.She brought the spoon up, angled the bowl to reflect the candle light, and drew a breath.“Show me,” she whispered.
The silver shone, bright as a beacon and the image appeared.Precious Caris, sitting in a window sill, looking out at the night sky.
Halithe smiled, her sadness ebbing.
Caris had her knees tucked up, her hands in her lap, a look of longing on her face; pensive and still.She held something in those lovely hands with the long fingers and perfect nails.
A badly hemmed nappie.
Halithe’s breath caught, as a rush of joy, of excitement flooded through her.Caris felt it too, clearly, and she would find a way, she’d free her…her love, and they’d be free together.
Something distracted Caris, who jerked, hiding the nappie.She rose, and the image flickered and faded.
It might be a dream, an unrealistic dream, but it was hers.
No.It wastheirs.
Halithe sighed, content, and carefully placed the spoon by the bedside.She cuddled down, her eyes fluttering closed.
The candle still burned, over by the door.
