Chapter Nineteen
The day had finally come.
Amari lit the small copper lantern on the mantel and watched the flame flicker to life. The glow illuminated the symbol of the Lord and Lady of the Hearth.
She drew a breath, released it, folded her hands, and recited the prayer she’d been taught by her mother and grandmother, the one recited by all the Hearth Mothers before her.
“Gracious Ancestors, hold us in your hands,
May our windows open to light and knowledge.
May our hearth warm and feed all who sit beside it,
May our home shield us from the storms without.
May our love shelter us from storms within.”
Sorrow welled up and caught her unaware.
Today was her walk to the well with her first-born, and her mother, grandmothers, aunties, and sisters were not at her side. Had she been home, they would have gathered around, talking and laughing, teasing and praying in the same breath. They would have admired her bracelets and helped her with her hair and dress.
Amari touched her empty wrists and sighed.
The men of the Hearth would have been there as well, holding red banners in readiness, bags of sweets in their hands. Some would have been seeing to the feast that followed. The air would have been joyful, even if the weather was bad. It would be the ceremony she had dreamt of since she’d first bled.
And yet…
She paused and looked about her. The kitchen was warm and bright, with a pot of stew in the oven and kavage ready to be brewed fresh when they returned.
Orval was in the bedroom, talking to the babes as he did one last nappy change. No baby talk, for him. She was fairly sure he was reviewing the names of all the kings from the Epic .
He was so different from every man she’d ever met. There was no pretense, no blustering. Quiet, calm, even when taken aback by the arrival of a woman and two babes out of a storm. And smart? He took her breath away. For someone who never left his rooms, he knew so very much.
Regularly, someone would make their way up the stairs with a question or problem. Small things, really, a letter or contract needing to be written or a dispute between neighbors. They came because they had no trust of the local watch or judges.
Orval would welcome them, offer kavage, and listen intently. There’d be talk, then, discussions, and suddenly the matter was resolved, chairs being pushed back and nodding heads all around.
Had it been only a few months? Amari shook her head in wonderment. Three months since she feared for their lives, fleeing in the dark and cold. Three months since they’d sheltered here, from the weather and from those that would threaten them. She pressed a hand to her breast, where the marcusi token was hidden in her breast band. Those hours had been dark and fearful.
The flame in the lantern flickered, drawing her eyes.
She would be honest with herself. What she had dreamed of was never to be. Even if she’d managed to return home, she’d not receive a warm welcome, what with her shame of being deceived by Lord Eijer.
That life? That was over, as a dream dissipated in the morning sun.
Amari blew out the lantern.
This life? This unexpected shelter? Not what she’d planned, but so much better than she’d dared to hope. Although…
She busied her hands, clattering dishes as she put clean ones away. Never once in these months had Orval imposed himself on her by either look or gesture. He’d not indicated any interest in her. They slept in the same bed, true enough, but babes had a way of quelling any idea of much more than sleep.
Maybe…maybe he had no interest in women? Surely, she’d have seen evidence of his interest in others.
It was much more likely that he had no interest in her, given her past foolishness. Xyians put great value on virginity, which made little sense to her, but it was their way.
Orval limped in, carrying Lara, who was well bundled against the cold. “One done,” he said, handing her off to Amari.
Amari cradled her close as Lara blinked up at her from her wrappings. “Don’t let Dalan piss on your new tunic,” she said to Orval’s back, and smiled at his laughter.
Amari nuzzled Lara, breathing in her sweet scent. Safe and warm and walking to the well. She’d snatch this joy and hold it in her heart.
A knock at the door and Winter bustled in. Amari had asked her to stand as her elder and Winter had been honored to agree.
“Whew,” Winter said. “Sunny, but cold if you’re not in the sun, we’ll need to have the babes well wrapped. Are they sleeping through the night yet?”
Amari allowed herself to be distracted by the talk of the babes as Orval came in with Dalan. The adults bundled up for the Walk and headed down the stairs.
The guards were there of course, and Captain Ussin. They all headed toward the market, Ussin in front, clearing a path, with Winter close behind. Amari and Orval followed, side by side, each carrying a babe, with the two guards bring up the rear.
Stalls filled with wares lined the street and there was noise and bustle all around them. The scents of spices and baking filled the air, along with the squawking of geese and chickens, their legs tied to keep them from running amuck.
Heads turned and greetings rose from the crowd as the small party headed to the well at the crossroads. Some followed as word spread.
Amari saw familiar faces, those who had aided them over these months. Laundresses, vegetable sellers, butchers, bakers.
People were laughing and smiling and calling out to Orval, wishing him well and congratulating him. He smiled and waved back, calling greetings to those he knew by name. He occasionally had to stop as older women would reach to hold his hand and pat his cheek and coo at Dalan.
“You know all these people?” Amari asked softly when he returned to her side.
“Well, not all of them, I mean, most of them, I guess.” He seemed flustered at the attention, yet also pleased and excited. They both smiled at each other, sharing the warmth of the moment, then continued on.
The area around the well cleared as they stepped forward, the people forming a wide ring around the little group. A silence grew and spread.
Winter went to the well and took up the rope and bucket. It would not do to use the crank, not for this. She threw the bucket down, then pulled it out, brimming with fresh, clean water. A good omen.
Amari stepped forward. “Our Hearth has been blessed with twins,” she announced.
Cheers rose.
“There will be burdens and blessings no matter what roads our children take,” Amari continued. She’d worried that the recitation would feel forced, but it felt true. “We will teach them and guide them so that no matter what, they can always find their way back to the waters of their well. Their home.”
Applause then, and the stamping of feet in approval. Amari unwrapped enough of the blankets to show Lara’s face. The child blinked, her eyes bright, her black hair standing straight up from her head.
Amari lifted her high, with both hands. “Welcome our daughter, Lara Amari Orval,” she announced to the crowd.
The people cheered.
Amari lowered Lara back to cradle her in her left arm. She dipped her right hand into the bucket and flicked the water into Lara’s face. “May the waters bless and sustain you, until the Ancestors call you home.”
Lara sneezed.
The crowd laughed and called out their own blessings as Orval handed Dalan to his mother and took Lara in his arms.
Dalan blinked at the light and waved his hands. Amari lifted him high. “Welcome our son, Dalan Orval Amari,” she called out.
The crowd clapped, delighted.
Amari lowered Dalan to cradle him in her left arm and flicked the water of the well into his face. Tiny drops hit his eyes and gleamed like diamonds in the sun. “May the waters bless and sustain you, until the Ancestors call you home.”
Dalan scrunched up his face and let out a hearty wail.
The crowd laughed and called out more blessings as Amari dried his face, cooing to reassure him.
A movement caught her eye and she looked up to find Orval standing close, Lara in one hand as he fumbled in a pocket with the other.
“I would honor my Hearth Mother,” he announced loudly. He held something out to her.
Amari caught her breath. It was a bracelet, the traditional bracelet of the first-born, made of braided leather. Interwoven in the design were red jaspers, symbolizing the birth of twins.
She blinked back tears as she extended her hand to him and he placed the bracelet on her wrist. Now would be the time for the traditional kiss, for—
Orval hesitated.
Standing there, in the midst of the celebration, Amari’s heart flared with joy. She looked deep into his eyes, wanting to save the moment in her memory, of this walk, this feeling—
“Kiss her, ya fool!” came a voice, and then laughter from the crowd.
“Don’t be shy, sweetie,” an old woman’s voice offered encouragement.
Orval’s eyes went wide and he drew himself up. “Give a man a chance,” he called as he adjusted Dalan in his arms.
Amari laughed, and then he was there, and in some wonderful way, with two babes between them, he drew close and kissed her.
His lips were warm, dry, and wonderful, a firm pressure against hers, tasting of kavage and porridge and sweetness. Then the sensation was gone and Amari opened her eyes.
Orval stepped back, his cheeks red, and bowed to her.
Another cheer rose, and suddenly everyone started waving red cloths. Amari looked around, stunned. How did they know?
Orval cleared his throat. “I might have done a bit of research.” He looked quite proud of himself.
Amari laughed. Dalan started wailing again, clearly unhappy.
Orval fumbled again, drawing out a bag. “Only coppers, my friends,” he called as he scattered a few handfuls of coins in a circle. “Though there might be feathers among them, who can say? May they bring you luck this day!”
Amari didn’t see any feathers in his hands, just bright copper coins that were scooped up by the crowd.
Winter tipped the water back into the well. “Time for home and hearth,” she said, and the crowd laughed and started to dissipate.
They started back, and the return walk was quicker, because the winds were picking up, the cold piercing cloaks and scarves. Still, more greetings were exchanged before the well-wishers who peeled off to return to their work day.
“Such a crowd,” Orval said, his pride clear.
“What did you mean, feathers?” Amari asked softly.
“Ah,” Orval gave her a grin. “A nickname for an old copper coin that can still be found, although rarely. It has an airion on the one side and a royal portrait on the other, although no one knows who, they are so worn. They’re considered a token of good fortune. ‘Good to have a feather in your pocket,’ or so they say.” Orval smiled. “I keep one in my pocket, one my father gave me.”
When they got back to Winter’s establishment the guards stopped at the base of the stairs, but Winter scolded them. “Freezing out here will do no good. Come with me and get warmed at the very least. These two will not wander off, not with babies to warm and feed.”
Orval and Amari mounted the stairs, laughing at Winter’s teasing as she hustled Ussin and the guards off. Amari felt the rush of home as the door opened and the warmth surrounded them. Lara was nuzzling, warm in her blanket but clearly in need of a feeding. She’d need to—
Orval stopped moving, suddenly silent.
There on the wooden table was a scroll, pristine and white, except for the red and black seal.
The Royal Seal of the Wyvern House of Xy.