Chapter 10
Talvie
“Come in and share our breakfast,” Lark offers with a grin. “It’s the least I can do after you helped me out.”
“I’m not sure what I helped with. I only wanted to apologize.”
“Apology accepted! Since you just saved my hide, I’m the one who owes you now…fiancée.”
“Right. Question…Are you insane?”
“Frequently!” His grin broadens to reveal dimples. “But I also have delicious-smelling korvapuusti.”
I don’t know why I follow him inside. I don’t know what I say as excited voices surround us, or what keeps my feet moving until I’m sitting at the table with all these little people whose names jumble together in my head.
“What did the sentry say?” asks a petite teen with lilac hair braided over one shoulder.
“Nothing we didn’t expect,” Lark assures her. “He wants us to stay put for a bit, get a board together, do the hearing.”
She grimaces and tugs at her braid. The big guy I saw last night looks tense, too. Even the two slightly younger boys are watching the older ones carefully.
“Hey, relax guys.” Lark puts a hand on the shoulder of the energetic redhead before she tips the table over reaching across it with her whole body. “We knew CPS would find us. Val here helped, and now Niemi thinks we have a great shot. It’s all going to be fine.”
“Who is she?” asks a young girl bluntly. I think Lark called her Grumpy, but that can’t be her name, though her dour face lives up to it.
“Val works here. Mika and I met her last night, didn’t we?”
The boy, whose name I now remember is Mikael, gives a nod, but he still won’t look at me. Guilt twists in my gut again as he spoons mash into the baby girl’s mouth. At least she’s smiling today.
“See? Everything’s fine. We’re good here, and the best news is we’re going to stay longer than expected.
We might as well make new friends!” Lark’s tone is upbeat, but I can’t help remembering the tension in his shoulders while he gripped my elbow, or the way his breath sounded tight in my ear that had me playing along with his crazy charade.
Somehow, I’m eating sweet pastries and piling cheese and cold cuts onto a thick slice of butterbread, taking a huge bite so I don’t need to talk. Not that I could get a word in edgewise with these kids all talking over each other.
Lark sits across from me, unfazed by the chaos.
He’s gentle as he helps the young girl cut her open-face sandwich.
He’s easygoing as he gets the two boys to give up the container of cinnamon rolls they’re trying to commandeer.
He laughs at something the eldest girl says when she passes him the syrup for his oatmeal.
He passes an extra egg sandwich to Mikael at the end of the table without him even asking, though it’s clear from his bashful smile that it’s appreciated.
Through all this, Lark catches my eye every so often with a quirked eyebrow, as if to ask ‘are you okay’, or to share a little ‘aren’t they crazy’ with me. As if it’s a secret. This is all crazy.
It’s loud, and not polite at all, with everyone reaching over each other.
I take an elbow to the shoulder when the hyper redhead gets so excited telling her brothers a story that she stands on her chair to act out a sword fight.
It’s wholly undignified! If anyone acted this way at a dining table at the palace, they’d be carted off in restraints.
But it doesn’t feel wrong here. It feels…nice. Warm. Fun.
I’m on the outside looking in, but I don’t feel unwelcome. The hole in my chest—the one I’ve carried since Beron’s betrayal, or maybe even before—aches less the longer I sit here. This isn’t an experience I’ll have again, so I’m going to enjoy it. Wild as it is.
Helping Lark clear the table as the kids run off in every direction after eating feels like a natural way to show him gratitude for including me.
I barely even feel the ingrained guilt at not having brought a gift when invited to someone’s home.
But then I did bring breakfast, and this isn’t really their home, anyway.
“Your family is…” I’m not sure how to end that thought to convey all my feelings.
“A lot?” Lark finishes for me. “I know. Some days I have no idea how to keep up. Actually, that’s a lie. All days. It’s all days.”
He’s smiling as he sets dishes down, but his eyes drift away at some hidden thought. I dislike that bit of sadness after the bright, happy meal we just enjoyed. It brings back the unease from the doorstep earlier and the sentry who smiled too much but still made Lark tense.
“So, CPS…” I really need to think these sentences through before speaking.
“Right. I should probably explain.”
“You don’t have to. It’s none of my business.”
His lips twitch. “I think I might have made it your business when I declared you my fiancée without asking.”
“True, you did do that.” I can’t help smiling back. “But you also shared your breakfast with me, so I guess we’re even. I’m just glad to see your baby didn’t hold a grudge.”
“Who, Happy? Nah, she was all giggles again before bed last night. I let her play with Hugo, so she was basically flying high.”
“Hugo?”
“My hedgehog. A pet.” There’s a grunt from his pocket. Lark snickers, pointing at it. “He’d like to say we’re his pets.”
“Oh. I have a—” I nearly bite my tongue at the icy chill from Lumi’s moonstone against my skin. “Nothing. Never mind.”
He appraises me, but lets me off the hook. “The kids…they’re not mine, obviously. Well, they are mine. They’re more mine than anyone else’s.” His voice grows fierce as he talks. “But we’re not related by blood.”
“None of them?” The way he went for the baby last night, I assumed he was her father.
“They’re orphans. We all are. When the orphanage closed down last year, I was all they had left. It’s been just us ever since. But we’re doing great. We are. We do just fine, just us.”
I’m not sure who he’s trying to convince, because I know what I just sat through.
There was more love at that one meal than I experienced in maybe my whole life.
He might say he can’t keep up, but they all seem to be happy with what he’s providing.
Maybe that one little girl seemed grumpy, but we all have our days.
“You look after them all? By yourself?”
“Now you sound like muskrat-face.”
“Uh…”
“Sorry, that’s what I call Sentry Niemi in my head. Which I definitely should not have told you.”
Surprised, I laugh. “Oh, he does kind of have that beady-eyed, twitchy thing going on.”
Lark’s head tilts back with his full laugh. It’s a wonderful sound, deep and rumbly. “I knew I liked you,” he says, which is such an unfiltered thing to say that my stomach gives a startled little flip.
I don’t know how to respond. One doesn’t just come out and say one likes someone. It isn’t done.
“Can I ask you a huge favor?” Lark sounds more nervous now.
“Maybe.” I’m wary too, especially since, in my experience, favors between Fae come with strings.
“Would you pretend to be my fiancée again, just for the hearing with the Sentry board? I hate to even ask, but Niemi really seemed to think it would help if they believe I have a partner to raise the kids with, and I don’t need one.
I don’t. That’s not what I’m asking. I mean, ha, obviously.
Just acting! Would you play the role of fiancée one more time for this hearing?
I would gladly owe you a favor in return. ”
Nerves stretch his voice thin. For him to offer an unspecified favor like that, this clearly means a lot.
Part of me wants to say of course, just to ease the ridge between his eyebrows.
But the sensible part of me screams to run.
I’m trying to go unnoticed here, not present myself at a legal hearing.
What if I’m discovered?
I can’t take scrutiny. What if they look into where I come from, who I am…
I have nothing—no identification, no possessions, no one to vouch for me. Then again, these are Wilder Fae. They’re uncivilized, right? Wild and unorganized. Supposedly, they don’t even have proper families, let alone official records.
Only that’s not what I’ve seen. There are families in the tavern, eating together as they discuss their days, their upcoming plans, even their dreams for the future.
I’ve heard them worry about the lasting cold, and how to support their families.
I’ve witnessed parents scooping children onto their laps, seen friends greeting each other with hugs, even watched people offer to help their neighbors without hesitation.
The homes around town look like proper homes, if rather small.
They’re not like the ramshackle shelters outside the walls of the capital, which is all I’ve ever known Wilder Fae to inhabit.
This backwoods town is different from what I was told.
My brain flashes to that boy in the red coat with the blue lips outside Rimne’s walls. Does he have a family? Was there someone who came to collect him, who cares for him and made sure he warmed up after our carriage passed by?
I’ve never had these worries before, and they pile on top of the worry for myself, burying it until I’m struggling to breathe beneath the weight.
Warmth pulses against my breastbone, but Lumi’s assurance does nothing to comfort me this time.
The kids in this cottage are all fed, happy, and warm, but I still can’t stop the image of the boy in the red coat from plaguing me.
I should help. I could make sure these kids get to stay where they’re loved and looked after.
But what if I’m discovered? One mistake, and the huntsmen could be at their door. I can’t put the kids in danger like that.
“Val?” Lark asks, jerking me from my jumbled stupor. “Are you okay?”
What must he see when he looks at me? Wild blue curls that I haven’t had time to care for in days. Eyes that can’t settle on anything, jumping from his jaunty four-winds hat to the broom leaning against the wall and over to the door where I can escape. Wild features masking wild fears.
I can’t worry about these people. I barely know them. It’s only the warmth and banter giving me an odd sort of longing, but that shouldn’t matter. It’s too big a risk.
“I’m fine. I need to get to work.”
“Of course,” he says kindly. “And don’t worry about what I asked. This is my problem. I shouldn’t have bothered you with it.”
“Lark—”
“No, forget I said anything. Honestly.” He shakes his head quickly. “I’m sure you have enough of your own troubles. I’ll sort out the mixup next time Sentry Niemi visits.”
The look on his face tugs at my chest the same way that little boy’s did. There’s a pit in my stomach. I almost blurt out that I’ll help, only stopping at the memory of Beron’s stony stare that day. I can’t help Lark. I can’t help this family. I can’t even help myself.