Chapter Twelve
“A whore as a wet nurse? If your Uncle Jerrold was still alive, he’d have something to say, certain sure. What is the world coming to?” Aunt Xydell shrieked again.
Orval shut the door behind her as quickly as he could so the guards wouldn’t hear, not that that would make a bit of difference. Aunt Xydell’s shrill voice could pierce rock.
“You’re mistaken,” Orval said, feeling his nervousness in his throat. “This is my wife, Amari, and—”
“Don’t give me that, nephew,” Aunt Xydell rapped her cane on the floor, waking Dalan. “She’s Amari of Uyole, one of Eijer’s castoffs.” Aunt Xydell looked down her nose at Orval, her lip curling. “Which you knew,” she spat, regally. “What have you done, you stupid boy?” she glared at Dalan. “Those twins are no more your get then I am.”
Orval froze, the pressure in his chest making it hard to breathe. Dalan started fussing.
“Peace with the wyverns was doomed from the start,” his aunt glanced around, wrinkling her nose. “I warned them, but no one listens to me.”
Dalen snuffled.
Xydell ignored the babe’s whines and raised her voice. “And you, slut. Seeking any who’d shelter you, eh? With Eijer dead in the field, you’d no hope of—”
“Dead?” Amari jerked. Lara lost the nipple and complained.
“On the field, with the other damn fools who supported Xywellan,” Xydell raised her voice again as Dalan started full-throated wailing. “I didn’t believe the gossip flying through the Court. This explains a lot, Orval. I wondered what woman would have you, what with your deformity and all your other failings.”
Orval stood stunned as the wails of Lara and Dalan grew in intensity. His inadequacies, his flaws all pressed in on him, again, paralyzing him, bringing back memories of the past, constant reminders of what he lacked.
Yet, what made his heart twist was Amari, crumpled before him, her eyes filled with tears, crushed.
Xydell continued, hitting the floor with her cane for emphasis. “This is shameful. Always knew you didn’t have it in you, but to do this? Dishonor the Blood? When word gets out—”
Something snapped within Orval. He found his breath “Enough,” he thundered, even as he shook inside.
Xydell shut her mouth so hard her teeth clicked and fixed him with a glare. The babes still cried, but at least the woman had gone silent.
“Xydell,” Orval refused to acknowledge their familial relationship. Rude deserved rude. “You are a nasty, vile woman. You have insulted my wife and children. Leave.”
Xydell drew herself up. “You married this hussy so that you—”
Dalan was still crying. Orval set him on the table, well away from the edge, took Xydell’s elbow and turned her firmly. “Out. You are not welcome in our home.”
“Humph,” Xydell threw her scarf around her neck even as she arched an eyebrow. “First time I’ve seen any spirit in you, Orval. Not that I would want to stay in this—”
Orval opened the door and managed to resist pushing the old harridan down the stairs as she continued her tirade. He waited until she was at least two steps down before he slammed the door and bolted it.
The babes were still complaining loudly. Amari wouldn’t meet his eyes; she was sniffling and trying to get Lara back on her nipple. Orval swallowed the bile in his throat, picked Dalan up and started rocking him. “There’s one in every family, you know,” he said, trying to calm his own racing heart. “Rude, manipulative, never a kind word.”
He started to walk back and forth a bit. His leg twinged but it was bearable. More important to soothe the little one.
Dalan blinked up at him, settling. Lara was nursing again, and in the quiet, Orval could hear Amari’s sobs.
“She’s never liked me, always made snide comments about my leg.” Orval babbled as he steadied his own breathing. “My mother could always handle her, but my father and I—”
“You deserve to know the truth,” Amari said softly.
Shame burned in her chest as Amari tried to stop crying. She was a fool, an utter fool, to think that the truth wouldn’t come out at some point. Amari wiped at her cheeks, careful not to disturb Lara further.
Orval moved next to her. She forced herself to look up and meet his eyes.
Still rocking Dalan, Orval handed Amari a clean nappy for her face. “Only if you want to,” he said. His eyes were warm and he gave her a quick smile, that one crooked tooth flashing at her. “You and I have suffered through enough baby cack and loss of sleep together to trust one another, yes?”
Amari took the nappy and smiled weakly before the tears started again. “But what she said—”
“That old gossip frames everything and everyone in the worst light,” Orval eased back into his chair. “Never a nice thing to say about anyone or anything.” He took a deep breath. “Trust me, I know.”
“I don’t think I can stop crying,” Amari admitted as she clutched the nappy.
“We can talk later,” Orval offered, but Amari shook her head.
“No,” she said. “Best get it done and over with.” She looked up at the ceiling, anywhere but at those understanding blue eyes. “I am Amari Misalyn Anouk of the Hearth of Misalyn in the Kingdom of Uyole, which acknowledged Xy as suzerain.” Absently, she reached for her bracelets, her fingers finding only bare skin.
Orval nodded. “The farthest southern part of Ancient Xy.”
For a moment, Amari forgot her shame and looked at him in surprise. “You know of it?”
“I’ve read about it, actually,” Orval shrugged, with an embarrassed look. “A matriarchy, if I remember correctly.” He paused, clearly thinking. “The men handle the military matters but the women rule.”
Amari wiped her face, nodding. He had the wrong impression, most outsiders did. “It may seem so to outsiders, but it’s more of a partnership. My mother is the Hearth Mother of a wealthy…what you would call a barony.” She struggled for the words as memories flooded in. “I am the fourth of eight children. After consulting with the Elder Aunties and Grandmothers, it was decided that I would be sent to serve Queen Kara, with an eye to establishing my own Hearth here.” Amari bit her lip. “I so wanted to see the world, experience new places and people. It seemed a great adventure.
“Queen Kara was welcoming, and I was presented at Court as one of her ladies. It was there I met Eijer.” She choked on his name.
“I knew him,” Orval’s tone was dry. “I suspect he saw you as a challenge.”
“I learned that,” Amari said bitterly. “Later.” She drew a shuddering breath. “Among my people, one enters into a courting contract first. Marriage does not occur until after the joining has proven fertile and a child has lived six months after birth. Then and only then does a couple enter into a contract of marriage.” She wanted him to know, to understand. She wasn’t what that woman had said she was.
Orval gave her an encouraging nod, so she plunged on. “Eijer swept me off my feet,” Amari choked out. “He was—”
“Everything,” Orval nodded. “Handsome, witty, a wonderful fighter. Buckets full of charm and grace and lacking any honor or integrity.”
Amari’s eyes welled with fresh tears. “You knew him,” she whispered.
“I fostered with him,” Orval said. “He’d pretend to be a friend and then follow behind me, mocking my limp.” Dalan gurgled and Orval shifted the babe to his other arm. “Most ladies at Court have mothers to warn them. I’m surprised Kara didn’t warn you.”
“The conflicts were rising: she wasn’t much involved in the social aspect of the Court.” Amari said. “It was all so bright, so glittering. Dances every night, with the Great Hall lit with a thousand candles. I was too stupid to realize it was also frantic, fearful. The nobles knew what was coming, but—”
“Party hard, for tomorrow we war.” Orval said softly.
“Yes,” Amari said. “And passion and fire overcame any sensibilities I had. I did ask Eijer about a contract, but he swept away my concerns with warm embraces and sweet kisses. We used my funds for a grand, glorious party that never seemed to end.” She had to pause, her throat closing.
Orval’s eyes were warm and sympathetic. He sat, her son in his arms, and waited. Patient, with no judgement in his expression.
“I discovered that I was pregnant, and I went to tell him the joyous news publicly. He rejected me—” Amari choked. “Publicly. With harsh words and fierce looks. Cruel in ways I had not thought possible.”
Orval said nothing, just waited, giving her time.
Lara released the nipple with a yawn. Amari looked down into her tiny, sweet face. “I had no contract, no written word to protect me. My funds depleted, I sold what little I had, including my bracelets. I had no way to contact my family, due to the conflict.” In truth, even if she had been able to get a message through, she feared what her family would say. Thrusting that thought aside, Amari stumbled on. “When Kara learned of what had happened, she sent for me. I expected harsh words and reprisals, for I had shamed my Hearth.”
Amari lifted her head. “Instead, I was offered sympathy and understanding. I think, in some way, she blamed herself for my plight. Although, in fairness,” Amari’s tears welled up again as her heart turned over, “with my heart filled with Eijer’s soft whispers, I doubt that I would have listened. Kara told me that she too was bearing and offered me the position of Royal Wet Nurse. I accepted, gladly. She saw to my needs and brought me to a midwife to see me through the birth.”
“Let me take her, if she’s done,” Orval said, nodding at Lara.
They quietly swapped babies, and Amari put Dalan to her other breast as Orval put Lara on his shoulder and started to pat her back gently. The kitchen was quiet, the only sound the drag of Orval’s shoe on the floor.
Amari mopped her face with her free hand, trying to get her emotions in check. Eijer dead. That bright, handsome face, that sparkle. Despite everything, she’d hoped he’d have a change of heart once he’d seen his son, and return to her side, apologizing, becoming once again the loving, charming man she’d fallen for.
Now Dalan would never know his father and she’d never know—and yet, even deeper down, she did know. Had he ever really loved her? Had she really loved him? She’d thought she had, and yet…
It was complicated and right now, it was all just a tangled bundle of pain.
Lara burped, the soft sound seeming to echo in the quiet room. Amari watched Orval switch the child to his other shoulder and resume patting as he paced, his eyes down, his face thoughtful. She felt lighter for having told him the truth, but dread crept over her. She waited for him to say something, anything, to condemn her for her—
Orval came to a stop, facing her.
“We need a courting contract,” he said.