Chapter Seven
“Open! By order of King Xyrath!” The person outside was shouting now.
Orval’s heart leapt madly against his ribs. He stood frozen, in his stained and rumpled robe. Staring around the room like a fool, not sure—
The pounding came again, four hard blows. The door seemed to bulge in the frame.
“Coming, coming,” he yelled as he limped to the door. Whoever it was seemed intent on breaking in. He offered to the elements, and unlocked the door only to stumble back, nearly falling, pushed aside by a pair of tough-looking warriors, all in chain and leather, bearing the crest of the Wyverns. They smelled of rain and rust and death.
Orval caught himself on the table as they stormed in, setting the crockery rattling. “See here,” he began, but was interrupted.
“Awake, were you?” That was a voice he knew only too well. Captain Ussin walked in, one hand on his sword. He’d been a big, burly bully when they’d fostered together; now he stood a bigger, burlier soldier. More gray hair, the same piggish eyes.
“Who wouldn’t be, with all this clamor.” Orval said, hoping the weakness in his voice was taken for anger. “Ussin,” he nodded. Damned if he was using the man’s title. “I understand that Xyrath has triumphed on the field.”
“By the will of the Lord of the Sun, he has,” Ussin boomed, still using his battlefield voice. He looked around, peering into the corners while his two men took up positions by the hearth. “My King sends me to you to greet you and ensure your safety.”
Orval blinked, steadying himself against the table. “Well, my thanks, but that is hardly necessary. I am a distant cousin, a minor member of the royal family, after all.”
“Still,” Ussin boomed as he prowled about the room, “my king has commanded that two guards shall be posted outside your door, to keep you safe and escort you on your daily errands.”
What was the man looking for? Orval pulled his robe a bit tighter around himself. “I really don’t see the need—”
“Orders,” Ussin said firmly. “For all the family of the House of Xy.”
“Very well, then, if that’s His Majesty’s command, we must obey.” Orval straightened. “You might stop in and mention that to my landlord, Madam Winter of the House of the Weary Traveler. She has a great deal of respect for the king’s men, you know.”
The two soldiers perked up at that.
“My thanks to His Majesty for his care of us,” Orval started, just as a shrill cry cut through the room.
The wail of a babe.
Ussin’s head jerked up, as did those of his soldiers. Ussin glared at Orval, then stomped though the open door and into the corridor.
“Here now,” Orval protested, limping after him. “Ussin—”
The babe wailed again, then went quiet. Ussin stopped in the doorway of the bedroom. Orval limped up behind him.
Amari was propped up on the pillows, clutching Dalan at her breast. Her eyes were wide with terror.
“Captain Ussin, I must insist—” Orval started breathlessly.
“I am also commanded to keep an eye out for a newborn babe,” Ussin growled. “Who is this?”
The moment froze between one heartbeat and the next. Dazed, Orval felt his lips open, not sure where his words were coming from but speaking with an authority he didn’t know he had. The lie flowed easily from his lips. “Ussin, I’d like you to meet my wife, Amari, and our twins.”
Amari’s expression changed ever so slightly, like a shutter closing over a window. Orval’s heart sank as he struggled for words. She’d deny it, of course. A cripple. Elements forgive him, he’d—
“Wife?” With Ussin’s question reality kicked back in.
To Orval’s relief, Amari spoke, her voice soft, but steady. “We were blessed with twins a month ago. A boy and a girl.” She gave a nod to the bundle beside her on the bed.
“Dalan, our first born,” Orval babbled. “And Lara.”
Fear flashed through Amari’s eyes, but Ussin just gave an abrupt nod. “Blessings on you, lady, and yours. Forgive the intrusion.”
Ussin backed out of the room, closing the door behind him. It felt like he filled the hall and towered over Orval. “I did not know you were married,” he rumbled.
“You have been long from the city,” Orval said, the strength of fear starting to drain from him. “Life goes on, Ussin, even in war.”
“And now, I’ve woken them and disturbed your rest.” Ussin grimaced as he strode back to the kitchen.
“They were due a feeding. Not much rest for us, these first few months, or so I’m told.” Orval felt himself starting to babble and clamped his mouth firmly shut. Less said, the better.
“Explains the odd smell in the kitchen,” Ussin grimaced. “Baby cack. You will be up to your neck in nappies for some time.”
“Aye, aye,” Orval said. “I haven’t gotten much sleep this night.” He paused as they returned to the kitchen. “What with the storm and the bells ringing.”
“My bookish friend here has been blessed with twins,” Ussin boomed to the warriors as he slapped Orval on the back. “Sly dog, making hay while we were at war. Didn’t know you had it in ya.”
“Er,” Orval decided to take it as a compliment.
“I’ll have the men guard at the bottom of the stairs, with orders to disturb you as little as possible,” Ussin said. “Although I’ve no doubt you’ll be summoned to Court.”
“Well,” Orval hedged, trying to think of an excuse. “It will be some time before—”
“Of course,” Ussin boomed. “But the House of Wyvern is triumphant, and you will want to congratulate their Majesties.”
Orval managed to keep his thought to himself as they left, striding out into the rain and down the stairs. He threw the bolt, glad of the silence, then sniffed the air. He didn’t smell anything out of the ordinary, the babies hadn’t pooped…
Unless it was the pease porridge.
Orval frowned, and then took a breath, dreading what must come next. What had he done? Married? Where had that come from?
He’d committed that poor woman to a lie, at least until the marcusi could get her and the babes to safety. He poured some tea, admittedly fairly strong by now, but maybe a peace offering. He limped down the hall to the bedroom, careful to open the door quietly.
There was peace in the sight. Dalan was still suckling, his tiny hand up by Amari’s cheek. She nuzzled his fingers, cooing at him softly. It was only when she lifted her head that Orval saw her worry and fear. “Are they gone?” she whispered, glancing at the door. “What happened?”
“I fear I married you, milady.” Orval limped forward, set the tea by the bed and settled slowly in the chair, stretching his leg out in front of him. “I’m truly sorry, but it was the only thing I could think of—”
“You told them she was Lara,” Amari’s voice stayed soft, but the accusation was there. “He will know that—”
“Oh, that. No, no,” Orval shook his head. “Lady, you are not from Edenrich, are you?”
“No,” she averted her eyes, “I am not.”
“Trust me in this, every family with any link to the Xyian bloodline has a ‘Lara’. It’s a common enough name.” Orval rubbed his face, feeling his tiredness catch up with him. “It was my sister’s name.”
Amari drew a breath and let it out slowly. “I did not know.”
“I fear that I have besmirched you, claiming you and the babes, but I could think of nothing else,” Orval continued, rubbing his aching thigh. “Taking me on as a husband in name is a poor bargain, but it buys us time. Still, I fear I have besmirched your honor. ”
“No, Orval” Amari’s mouth quirked ruefully. “That is not a concern. You offer protection, shelter. We will disrupt your household as it is—”
Orval chuckled. “Such as it is, lady.” He yawned, slumping in the chair. “We’ll make do, until the marcusi return for you.” He yawned again, feeling the pull of sleep.
Amari smiled at him, warm and bright in the light of the lantern. It seemed he was forgiven. He liked the way she said his name, with her accent. Dalan was making little snorting noises against her breast, her skin was brown and warm, glowing in the light. Such a picture, even better than his brief dreams of a loving woman in his life, content and happy—
His eyes closed and he drifted off to sleep.
Poor man. Amari watched 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 fear they mean 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, you are of 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.
“The procession was this morning,” Winter snorted. “Pathetic and sad, but Xyrath looked glorious. He enjoyed the cheers, right enough.”
“He always did,” Orval agreed. “It came through here?”
“This part of town? No. They wound straight from the main gates to the castle. They’re up there now, probably sorting through the spoils.” Winter looked grim. “There’s one more thing,” She glanced at Amari, then put her hand on Orval’s shoulder. “There’s word from the Palace.” She paused and swallowed hard. “Queen Mother Tithanna was found dead in her chambers, a dagger buried deep in her heart, they say by her own hand.”