Chapter Thirteen
Orval was pleased as he watched surprise replace the pain in Amari’s lovely dark eyes, reddened from crying. His heart went out to her. What she must have gone through, this past year.
“What did you say?” Amari asked, as if she couldn’t quite take it in.
“We need a courting contract,” Orval repeated. Lara was snuffling in his ear, so he adjusted her on his shoulder. “We’ll say that we are following the ways of your people in this.”
“You do not condemn me,” Amari looked like she was about to start crying again.
“No, of course not.” Orval rocked a bit where he stood, keeping up a rhythm on Lara’s back. “I know only too well how vicious life at Court can be. Even under Wellan and Kara, there was always cruelty and backstabbing. One of the many reasons I avoided the place. Except for the Royal Library, of course.”
Lara burped and started to fuss. Orval hugged her to his shoulder as he turned away to gather up a fresh nappy and swaddling cloth, hoping this would give Amari a moment to gather herself.
How could he blame her? Eijer was everything a woman could wish for. Wealthy, handsome, charming, skilled at combat and dance, a sparkling addition to the Royal Court.
Everything that Orval had never been. A pit formed in Orval’s stomach, filled with his own inadequacies.
Damn Eijer, for luring such a lovely lady on, then leaving her in such straits. “The nobility have sharp tongues,” he continued. “They cheerfully vivisect one another for their dress styles, much less their private lives.”
“Or for their physical differences?” Amari ventured.
“Just so. One of the many reasons I decided long ago on the solitary, scholarly life.” Orval put Lara down on the table and unwrapped the swaddling. “While the royal library tempted me, the people didn’t. Thus you find me, impoverished. And yet?” He glanced around at the kitchen shelves, stuffed with dishes and mugs, but also his books and papers. “Yet rich in what I value most.”
Lara wiggled under his hand. Orval looked down and gave her a smile. “Hey sweetling, let’s see to you, shall we?”
Lara blew a bubble of spit as he removed her nappy. He frowned as the birth cord came into view. “Is it supposed to be that black and nasty looking?” he asked.
“Yes,” Amari’s voice firmed up. “It will fall away soon. There is a small ritual,” she offered hesitantly. “The birth cord is burned as an offering to the Ancestors, with prayers for the child’s safety and welcome to the family.”
Lara was kicking as Orval struggled to wipe her, making sure to dry her folds. “We could do that,” he said absently. He glanced over to see Amari scanning the kitchen. She caught his look and dropped her eyes.
“You do not have a hearth-shrine in your kitchen,” she said softly. “I wasn’t sure that—”
“Father was of the Lord of the Sun and Mother revered the elements,” Orval explained. “I am a mixture of both. We can set up a shrine, if you wish.” He tucked Lara into a fresh nappy and started swaddling her. She stared at him with her eyelids drooping. “Hey, sweetling, now that you’re changed and dry, then maybe you’ll let us sleep a bit?”
“They will both sleep through the night,” Amari said, “eventually.”
“We need a contract,” he said again. “We can draft it together and I can age it enough to pass muster. We’ll count out the days and back-date it. No real problem.”
“But,” Amari looked down at Dalan, nursing hungrily. “Your Aunt,” she started.
“My Aunt will be spreading the word far and wide, I am sure.” Orval nodded. “But don’t you see? That will—”
Steps on the stairs drew their attention. “That should be the stipend.” Orval had been counting the days, hoping Xyrath and Satia would continue the funds and that they would arrive at the usual time. He gave Amari a swift smile as he opened the door, Lara in one arm, then stepped back in surprise. “Captain Ussin,” he said.
“Afternoon, Orval. Milady,” Ussin nodded at them both as he entered. “The King wanted me to personally deliver this, Orval. Said to make sure to hand it direct to you.” Ussin handed him a leather pouch. “And this,” Ussin added, holding out a sealed letter. “From the King and Queen.”
“Er,” Orval fumbled with the pouch, surprised by its weight. “Ussin, are you sure? This is far heavier than—”
“Certain sure,” Ussin said. He chucked Lara under her chin. He stepped forward and dropped the letter on the table. “Best be leaving you to it, then. I might stop in and see how Madam Winter fares.” Ussin straightened. “Fine woman, there. Smart.”
Orval blinked at the man. “Yes, she is.”
“I’m off, then,” Ussin nodded again and was gone before Orval could say another word. Orval elbowed the door closed firmly and scowled.
“What is amiss?” Amari asked.
“This is more than I usually receive,” Orval mused. He put Lara back on the table and untied the knotted cords of the pouch. The coins that spilled into his hand were gold. “Much, much more,” Orval said.
“The note might explain,” Amari said.
Orval broke the seal. “It’s from Xyrath,” he said slowly. “In his own hand. ‘Cousin, word has come of your good fortune. Didn’t know you had it in you,’” Orval rolled his eyes at Amari and was rewarded with a small smile. “‘Be assured of our well wishes and our intent to honor you and yours.’” Orval stopped. Not sure he wanted to share the rest.
“Is there more?” Amari asked.
“A post-script,” he said slowly. “In Queen Satia’s hand. That we will be invited to Court after our Walk to the Well. She looks forward to honoring us in person.” He paused, puzzled. “What is a Walk to the Well?”
Amari sucked in a breath and clutched at Dalan. “She knows.” Her voice trembled. “I cannot go to Court, Orval. All those people, staring. They will know my shame, know the truth, and we can’t—” her voice hitched and she started to breathe in short pants. “I can’t, I can’t, oh Ancestors, I—”
Orval reached over the table and put the tips of his fingers over her heart. Her heart was racing, her skin was clammy. Dalan had lost the nipple but mouthed it, trying to latch on.
“All’s well,” Orval whispered. “I’m here. Breathe.”
She focused on him, then, and drew a long, shuddering breath. It took a moment, but she calmed, her pulse slowing.
He pulled his hand back, but she clutched at it, her fingers cold against his. “Orval,” she started, but he shook his head.
“Think it through, Amari,” he squeezed her hand gently. “Think it through. We will let all the gossips do our work for us. Some will think a cripple has taken advantage of the situation to secure children. Some will think that a loose woman has taken advantage of a poor cripple to secure an income for her children. Others will think that the rumors about you and Eijer were false and that the children are mine. We will not fight it, nor make a secret of it, nor acknowledge it. We will let them think what they think. In the meantime, as they talk and titter and tattle to one another, Lara is safer thereby.”
Amari’s gaze calmed as she took that in. She bit her lip, then nodded. “They will be so distracted by our outrageous behavior that they will not see the truth.”
Orval nodded. “We may have to endure scorn, but Lara will be safe.”
Dalan fussed. Amari squeezed Orval’s hand, then shifted to help Dalan with the nipple.
“So, what is a Walk to the Well?” Orval lifted Lara back into his arms; the tiny girl was already sleeping.
“A tradition of my people,” Amari shifted Dalan. “Hearths rarely have the water flow into homes as yours do,” she nodded toward his sink. “We have wells for our water sources. If the child survives ninety days, the parents take the child and walk to the well. Family, friends, and neighbors gather to rejoice. The child is blessed with the water and named before the entire community. It is a great event among my people.”
“Ninety days,” Orval mused. “And you said that Dalan was born a month before Lara?”
Amari nodded.
“So you have bought us time as well,” Orval gave her a grin. “We have the perfect reason not to show ourselves before your traditions dictate. Time enough to draft a contract, to let Lara here lose her birth cord, and wait to hear from the marcusi. Although,” Orval dropped his gaze. “Taking me on as a potential husband is a poor bargain for your courage, Amari.”
Amari sniffed, wiping at her eyes. “Orval, you offer protection and honor for myself and my son. I would accept your offer of a courting contract with gratitude and joy.”
Warmth flooded his chest as they exchanged a long look. Amari’s eyes warm and bright and so very lovely, that he— realized he was staring and dropped his gaze.
“Good, good,” Orval cleared his throat. “We can work on the wording between feedings.”
“Dalan’s finished,” Amari said. “I’ll change him and see him settled.”
Dalan fussed as she put him on the table and started to close up her tunic.
“No let me take him,” Orval said. “You can clean up in here, then come to bed.” Orval rose carefully, waiting for the pain in his leg to pass before gathering both babes in his arms. “I’ll read to you, shall I?” he asked Dalan. “Where’s that copy of the Epic of Xyson that I gave you? Still tucked in your basket? Let’s go look.”
“My thanks,” Amari said as he headed for the inner door.
“I don’t see what for,” Orval cast her a glance over his shoulder and grinned. “I am leaving you with the dishes, after all.”
Amari’s laughter followed him out the door, filling his heart with quiet joy.