Chapter Twenty-Three
Orval stiffened, frozen in the middle of a breath.
Xyrath gestured and cymbals crashed; the music started again and the crowd cheered.
Two footmen approached from either side, carrying red velvet robes lined with black fur. Xyrath bounded forward and took the first, draping the heavy garment over Orval’s shoulders with a dramatic sweep and fastening the chain at his throat.
The cloak weighed a ton. The chain threatened to choke him.
The footman was cloaking Amari. Xyrath leaped back to stand before his throne. “We will eventually restore all the old Baronies,” he announced. “You will act as our vanguard and re-establish our domain over the Black Hills. All hail the new Lord High Baron and Lady High Baroness!”
Cheers rang out, echoing around the room.
“Your Majesty,” Orval tried to make himself heard, to protest—
“We are glad to reward thee,” Queen Satia interrupted smoothly. Something in her expression silenced Orval’s objections. “We will send you and your family to the Black Hills with staff and an escort to ensure your safety.” She narrowed her eyes. “You will surely have no trouble putting down those rebels that offer us insult.”
Xyrath nodded. “No need for oaths, Orval, not between us. Captain Ussin has all the details. He will escort you to your new lands in the morning.”
In the awkward silence that followed, it was Amari’s turn to reach for his hand and squeeze; Orval blinked and bowed his head. “As you command, Your Majesty.” He stepped back, anxious to leave the royal presence so he could try to make sense of what had just happened.
Hand in hand with Amari, trying not to step on the heavy cloak that dragged on the thick carpet, he almost missed Satia’s words.
“One more thing, Lord High Baron.”
Orval went still, afraid to look at her.
“You won’t have time to pursue your studies as you serve your King.” Satia’s voice was silk over stone. “It would be devastating if it were to be lost. A lifetime of work.”
Amari’s gaze met his. Orval wet his lips but found the strength to stay silent.
“For the purpose of preservation, your papers and books will be stored in the Royal Library. Eventually, once the collection is catalogued and copied, we will send the originals to you. In the meanwhile, trust in the knowledge that your work will be waiting for you, safe and secure.”
Xyrath laughed again. “You’ll have the lands under control in no time, mark my words. You’ll have the mines working and stone flowing soon. Send me a hunk of white marble as quick as you can, eh? Enough for a life-sized statue, yes?” Xyrath gave a wave of dismissal. “A safe journey to you, cousin.” Xyrath lifted his head, looking over Orval’s shoulder. “Ah, Master Sculptor! How good to see you!
Orval couldn’t speak, couldn’t bring himself to thank the King and Queen. He turned and stumbled, feet tangled in both robe and carpet.
At his side in an instant, Amari somehow managed to subtly take his train in hand, easing the drag as he walked.
“Make way,” their escort cried out as they approached the hall. “Make way for the Lord High Baron and Lady High Baroness of the Black Hills.”
Their walk through the halls, once again following the courtier, was silent, neither willing to speak where so many might hear. The crowd, however, was filled with whispers and knowing looks.
Captain Ussin was waiting at the carriage. “Get in,” he said gruffly. “We’ll get you back.” He barely waited until they had climbed in before he shoved the trailing end of Orval’s cloak in behind him and got in himself, sitting on the opposite bench.
Amari fussed with the cloaks, pulling the heavy velvet over them and getting it up off the floor of the carriage. Underneath the mass of fabric and fur, she reached for Orval’s hand and held it tight. Realizing the chain of her cloak was pressing on her throat, Orval reached with his free hand and undid the clasp.
Amari rubbed her throat, then released his own chain before putting her head on his shoulder with a sigh.
“Rest while ya can,” Ussin muttered. “Long journey tomorrow.” Never once did he look Orval in the eye.
The carriage rattled up to their home and Orval climbed out first, leaving his cloak behind and offering his hand to Amari. She stepped out, looking so weary it made his heart ache.
“I’ll see to the cloaks,” Ussin said, grabbing Amari’s as it slipped from her shoulders.
They climbed the stairs, Amari taking the lead.
The kitchen was empty. Gone, all gone—tables, chairs, crockery, pots, pans. All gone.
Bondmaiden Nora stood in the center of the room holding a lantern. She curtsied deeply as they stared. “Lord High Baron. Lady High Baroness.”
A thin wail came from the bedroom. Amari rushed past Nora; Orval followed as quickly as he could.
Light spilled in from the privy. Winter stood by the bed, the only piece of furniture left in the room. The babes’ baskets sat on the bed, a tiny hand waving over the side of one.
“She never touched them,” Winter whispered, pale as Orval had ever seen her. “The soldiers swarmed in after you left and swept everything into sacks and crates. She threatened—”
Nora walked into the room.
“Lara just started to fuss,” Winter finished.
Amari was busy checking the children, making soothing noises. “Help me, if you would,” she said to Winter. “I need to nurse them.”
“We need to leave them to get their rest, Madam Winter.” Nora made it a command. Winter shot a glance at Orval, then nodded and headed to the doorway.
“We have left what you will need for tonight and tomorrow morning in the privy,” Nora said cooly. “You will need to wake early and dress warmly for your journey. Breakfast will be provided and the rest of your things will be packed and loaded in the morning.” She held out the lantern to Orval.
He took it quickly, fumbling with the handle.
Nora paused in the doorway. “The Queen wants to make sure that you are not disturbed tonight, so soldiers have been posted within and without for your protection.” She curtsied. “Sleep well,” she said and swept away, herding Winter before her.
Amari opened her mouth but Orval held up his hand. “Let me help you into a nursing gown,” he said.
She closed her mouth and nodded.
He focused on untying the laces so that he didn’t have to see her warm skin. While she changed, he averted his eyes, but the only things to look at were the walls of empty shelves.
Gone. Everything was gone.
His home had been stripped of his books, scrolls, and papers. Empty shelf after empty shelf. His desk, gone. His chair, gone.
Amari sat on the edge of the bed and took Lara into her arms. Once the little girl latched on, Amari looked at Orval with wide, frightened eyes.
“I’ll see if they forgot anything,” Orval said. He stepped into the hall to check the other rooms, his labyrinth of shelves.
Amari listened as Orval moved off, trying not to crush Lara in fear. The sound of his footsteps echoed eerily against the naked wood.
Everything in this room had been swept up and packed away. Their clothes, baby supplies, the bed and bedding were all that remained. She checked the privy, seeing their things piled there.
She heard Orval speak to someone in the kitchen, then walk back toward the bedroom, his withered leg dragging. Poor man, he had to be exhausted and hurting. When he passed the bedroom door, he shook his head when she made as if to speak. The storage room, he was going to check—
Another male voice spoke: “Keep ya safe this night, milord.”
Amari closed her eyes against her panic.
At last Orval returned and sat beside Amari. Dalan was waving tiny arms in his basket and Orval took him up and cradled him. Some of the pain seemed to leave Orval’s eyes.
“They left us clothing,” Amari offered. “Supplies for the babes.”
“They even cleaned out the storage area,” Orval said mildly. “There are guards in the kitchen and at the back door. We are safe for the night.”
“Don’t leave me,” Amari whispered.
Orval nodded. “Let’s see to the babes.”
Silently, they went through the regular routine of feeding, changing, and rocking the infants to sleep.
Amari was settling Lara in her basket when she suddenly stiffened. Concerned, Orval went to her side. “Something wrong?” he whispered.
She shook her head and reached for his hand; her warm fingers pressed his down into Lara’s basket. His face changed as the tips of his fingers brushed the familiar leather spine of the Epic of Xyson .
His eyes closed and he leaned into Amari and pressed his head to hers. She moved closer, saying nothing as they shared their warmth.
Once they finished caring for the babes, they both went into the garderobe, changing and washing together in that tight space, eyes averted for what little privacy there was.
Amari kept the token clutched tight in her hand as she changed and showed it to Orval.
Orval put his head close to hers. “Use the token and summon the marcusi.” His whisper warmed her cold cheek. “They will find a way to spirit you and the babes away.”
Her heart clenched at that and tears started. But she nodded and stood in the doorway, clutching the token so hard the edges pressed against her palm. Help us , she thought, hoping against hope that “us” meant all of them.
She swayed, weary and frozen. Orval was there, gently steering her to the bed.
Amari shivered, the bedding and blankets feeling cold and clammy against her skin. She tucked the token under her pillow. The bedclothes rustled, and Orval eased in beside her. “Come,” he said, holding up the blankets.
She turned to him, feeling his warmth as she tucked herself beside him, putting her hand on his chest.
He covered it with his own. “Sleep,” he murmured. “I will keep watch.”
She couldn’t sleep, she thought, as she closed her eyes and listened to his steady heartbeat under her ear. She laced her fingers with his and sighed. There was no way she could sleep.
Yet she did.