Chapter Thirty-Six
Amari came awake in an instant, staring into the dimness, holding her breath, waiting for the sound that had disturbed her to repeat. When it came, it wasn’t one of the babes as she expected.
It was Orval, lying in bed beside her. A swift, pained intake of breath.
“Orval?” she whispered.
“Sorry.” His voice was low and strained. “A c-cramp. Trying not to wake the babes.”
The small copper lantern they’d left burning still flickered with light. She eased out of the bedding carefully, shivering in the cold air as her toes met the icy floor. She took a moment to check the babes’ baskets, finding they still slept, then padded over to Orval’s side of the bed as quietly as she could.
Roth and Yfin had chosen to sleep down by the front door, watching over the fire and Xydell. Rosalind had taken the second floor, hiding her pallet amidst the crates and baskets.
She and Orval were on the third floor, in a room with a stout wooden door that bolted on the inside.
‘Just in case,’ Roth had said grimly.
There were two floors yet above them, but other than checking for occupants, human or otherwise, they’d left them for later.
Orval’s face was twisted in a grimace and shiny with sweat. He was holding his breath, as if he didn’t dare breathe, the pain would stop; his hands were fisted in the sheets.
“Let me see,” she said softly, easing back the blankets and gently pulling up his night clothes, enough to expose his leg but keep his privacy.
The withered leg was thin and wiry compared to the healthy leg. She put her hand just above the knee and felt the muscles, taut and hot beneath her fingers.
“Can’t get it to ease up, Orval said through gritted teeth. “It will pass, it usually does.”
“You did too much these last few days,” she murmured, starting to rub warmth into his skin below the knee.
“Not much choice,” he murmured back.
That was when she caught the look of fear in his eyes. He’d been so strong for them all. This wasn’t just about the cramps in his legs. She suspected the reality of their situation had hit him; the mental anguish amplifying the physical pain.
“It worked,” she said, rubbing down toward his feet. “We have shelter, water, fire, and food. In fact, Ussin left us with more of that than we had in your rooms.” She arched an eyebrow. “More than pease porridge.”
Orval gave a pained chuckle.
“Roth and Yfin have their weapons and Xydell seems to be coming back to us,” she reminded him.
“Do you think she is well enough, sleeping down by the fire?” Orval asked.
“Yes,” Amari sighed. “The warmth is the best thing for her now, as well as all the liquids we can get her to drink. The hearth has its own healing.” She felt a slight easing of his muscles under her touch.
“Still,” he shifted slightly in the bed, “we are still stranded, still alone, with no idea of what lies in wait for us.”
“You have met all those first requirements you told us about,” she said. “What else does the Epic of Xyson say?”
Orval frowned, then his face relaxed as he began to think, to remember. Amari felt more tension leak out under her hands.
“Scouts,” he said firmly. “Secure the area around the camp in ever expanding circles.”
“So, a plan for tomorrow,” she nodded. “You can command Roth and Yfin. Rosalind and I can organize our supplies.”
“Command,” he snorted, a wry grin on his face, then glanced at the babes in alarm.
“They’re fine,” she said. “Is it any better?”
He nodded.
“Then let me try something,” she said, and without waiting for permission, she dug her thumbs in just under the knee and pressed hard.
“Ah!” Orval jerked in surprise, then relaxed onto the bed, his eyes wide. “Where did you learn to do that?”
“My brothers,” she kneaded his muscles, leaning in harder. “Overzealous in their training and of course—” she stopped, avoiding Orval’s eyes.
“Eijer?” he asked.
“Eijer,” she confirmed, suddenly at a loss for words. How could she explain—?
She met his gaze then and found his eyes warm and kind in the lamplight. She shivered, but not from fear. More from hope. Or maybe…anticipation. She lowered her gaze and started to pull the blankets back over him.
“Did you love Eijer?” Orval asked.
Amari hesitated.
Orval grimaced. “Forgive me,” he said. “I have no right to ask that and you’re cold.” He scooted over to the other side of the bed, holding the blankets open. “Come where it’s warm.”
Amari hesitated. “The babes,” she whispered.
“They’re fine,” he said after a fresh glance, “for now. Do you think they might sleep through the night eventually?”
“They will,” She got into bed, and helped him arrange the blankets over them both. “Eventually.”
He chuckled as she settled in, curling on her side to face him. He laid on his back, staring at the dim shadows above them.
“You have every right to know,” she said. “The problem is, I do not know how to answer your question anymore.”
“Why’s that?” he asked the ceiling.
“Eijer was…” she trailed off, not knowing how to proceed.
Orval glanced at her, his blue eyes glittering in the darkness. “Remember, I knew him. We fostered together. Eijer was always Eijer.”
“He swept me off my feet,” Amari said. “What I thought was love was more an overwhelming assault on all my senses. I was new to the royal court, and alone, and he swept me off my feet.” She hesitated. “At the time, I thought we loved.”
“Eijer always had that way about him,” Orval said. “He drew you in with his smiles and charm and made you feel like you were important. A friend, a confidant. But Eijer was always looking out for Eijer. He was not one to stand at anyone’s side, he always had to be at the forefront.”
Amari nodded. “While it’s clear to me now that he just wanted a conquest, I would not take back the pain of that betrayal, not one moment of it, for Dalan is a joyful gift in my life.” She sighed. “Yet, if Eijer were here before me, I’d curse him and reject him even as he rejected me. So when you speak of love…it’s complicated.”
Orval nodded.
“There were warning signs, in hindsight.” Amari admitted. “I told him my dreams, but looking back, I can see that he didn’t listen, didn’t build on them with me. What I thought was love was just empty air.”
For a time they lay together in the dark stillness, each lost in their own thoughts.
Orval broke the silence first. “What were your dreams?” he asked.
“Hearth mother,” Amari said immediately. “With many hearths under the shelter of mine. Ten children, with lands and gardens and livestock and crops as far as the eye could see.”
“Ten children?”
Amari laughed at his expression. “Well, Hearths adopt, you know. There are always children in need.” She smiled. “And I would preside over all as Hearth Mother.”
“A benevolent matriarch, I am sure.” Orval said.
“A benevolent matriarch,” Amari agreed. She hesitated, then asked. “What of you, Orval? Were there not marriage plans for you?”
“Not for a cripple,” Orval’s mouth grew tight. “The only ones who wanted to marry me were only interested in the Bloodline. My parents made short work of them. After my parents died, I left the court and I think I faded from memory.”
“But you must have had dreams?” she asked. “Surely you had a dream, before all this?”
“A dream?” His voice grew grim. “I did not let myself dream. I intended to live out my life lost in my books. Hadn’t thought beyond needing to hole up against the world.” He stifled a yawn. “Tell me more of yours.
“Children and grandchildren and great grandchildren running about my feet,” Amari said. “Gardens and herds of fat cattle. Dogs and cats, horses and pigs. All sprawling around a huge manor house.”
“All those children,” Orval yawned, blinked at her sleepily. “You will need a school and teachers. And maybe a library.”
Amari smiled, watching his eyes slowly drift closed. So different from Eijer, in every way. So smart and kind. His strength was different, too. He’d offered her a contract without a hesitation, to protect her and the babes.
She relaxed into the warmth of the bed, reaching out to touch him lightly on the shoulder with her fingertips. Maybe her dream could include—
Orval’s eyes fluttered open. “Sorry. You were saying?”
“Sleep,” she said.
“But your dreams,” he protested.
“We should sleep while we can,” she said. “Shared dreams are lovely, but dawn comes with something I’d let myself forget. All the work that dreams require.”
Orval gave a slight snort as his eyes closed again. “You are not alone in that. No one ever wants to think of the work.”
Amari watched as he slipped into sleep. Such a lovely man. He was everything that Eijer wasn’t, and so much more.
She yawned, relaxed into the bed and closed her own eyes. Perhaps a bit more sleep—
Dalan’s hungry cry cracked the air.