Chapter 14 The Cost of Shelter #4
For a moment he simply studied her, not rudely or suspiciously, but as though he were trying to understand a puzzle whose existence had only just been revealed.
Then he inclined his head.
"Lady Eira."
The title felt strange after everything.
Eira rose.
"Lord Aldric."
"Please don't."
The answer came immediately, and his expression suggested he had endured the title his entire adult life and disliked it every bit as much now as he had at the beginning.
Eira blinked.
For the first time since his arrival, she found herself uncertain what to say.
Fortunately, Aldric seemed accustomed to rescuing awkward conversations.
"My daughter informs me that you're Mother's secret."
A strangled sound escaped Maelin.
Aldric ignored it.
"She also informed me that you've seen bears, survived bandits, crossed mountains, and may or may not be the most interesting person currently living in this house."
Eira stared.
"I see she's been busy."
"Very."
The corner of his mouth twitched.
For the first time since entering the room, some of the tightness in Eira's chest eased.
Aldric crossed toward the hearth and held his hands briefly toward the fire before speaking again.
"I imagine this isn't how either of you wanted this conversation to happen."
The room fell quiet because there it was at last: the real subject, neither hidden nor avoided, but simply acknowledged.
Maelin looked away.
Aldric watched the flames for a moment before continuing.
"I won't pretend I'm pleased to discover that my wife has been smuggling politically sensitive guests into my house."
"Politically sensitive guests," Maelin repeated.
"You know what I mean."
"I do."
Eira expected irritation, perhaps even anger.
Instead Aldric sighed, and the sound carried the exhaustion of a man who had spent three days on horseback only to return home and discover an entirely different problem waiting for him.
Then he looked directly at Eira.
"You are safe here tonight."
The words came without hesitation, conditions, or negotiation.
Eira felt herself go still.
Aldric seemed to notice.
"Whatever happens next," he continued quietly, "that much isn't changing."
For a moment nobody spoke while the wind rattled softly against the windows and the fire crackled between them.
And for the first time since arriving at the estate, Eira began to understand why Maelin had trusted this man enough to build a life beside him.
Maelin
The house had fallen quiet by the time Eira retired for the night.
Lyra had finally been persuaded into bed after extracting promises from three different people that Eira would still be present in the morning, while Finn had disappeared hours earlier and even the servants had begun retreating into the softer rhythms of the evening, leaving only the fire awake in the silence that settled over the house.
Maelin found Aldric in his study.
The room looked much as it always did after one of his journeys.
A travel bag rested unopened near the door, damp gloves lay discarded beside the hearth, and travel papers still covered much of the desk.
He had not even begun unpacking, and the sight alone told her how seriously he considered the situation.
For a moment she remained in the doorway, watching him until Aldric finally looked up.
Neither of them spoke immediately, and although silence rarely felt uncomfortable after ten years together, tonight it carried a weight that neither of them could ignore.
"How much trouble are we in?" she asked.
The question earned a long sigh.
"More than I'd prefer."
Maelin crossed the room and lowered herself into the chair opposite him. The movement had become slower and less graceful over the past months, as the child she carried seemed determined to remind her of its existence every hour.
Aldric watched her settle before speaking again.
"You should be resting."
"You should be unpacking."
"Neither of us is getting what we want tonight."
A reluctant smile appeared and vanished just as quickly before silence settled between them once more, accompanied only by the soft brush of snow against the windows and the occasional shift of the fire in the hearth.
Eventually Aldric leaned back in his chair.
"She's thinner."
The observation caught Maelin by surprise.
"Who?"
His expression suggested the answer was obvious.
"Eira."
Something tightened inside her chest because he was right. The exhaustion showed less after food, sleep, and a day spent beside a fire, but it remained there all the same, a reminder that the mountains had taken their price and that grief had demanded its own as well.
"She crossed half the continent alone."
The words emerged more sharply than she intended.
Aldric nodded.
"I know."
There was no argument in his voice, no criticism, only understanding, and somehow that made everything harder.
For several moments he studied the flames before speaking the words she had been dreading since the moment Lyra pointed toward that window.
"Leander has to know."
The room fell silent as Maelin looked away first, not because she was surprised but because she wasn't. She had known this conversation was coming from the moment she rode away from the tower with Eira beside her, yet hearing it spoken aloud made it feel far more final than it had in her imagination.
"The moment he knows," she said quietly, "she loses control again."
Aldric remained silent for a long time before answering in the same gentle voice.
"The moment someone else learns before he does, we all lose control."
The words landed exactly where she knew they would because they were true, and she hated them for it.
"He won't hand her over."
It was not a question.
Aldric shook his head.
"No."
"You're sure."
"Yes."
The certainty in his voice never wavered.
Maelin stared into the fire. A week ago her greatest concern had been winter stores and whether Lyra would ever learn to sit still long enough to read an entire page, yet now her sister slept beneath her roof while half the north was likely searching for her.
The absurdity of it all nearly made her laugh, but instead she felt tired in a way that seemed to settle into her bones.
"I brought her here to keep her safe."
"I know."
"She's finally stopped looking over her shoulder."
"I know."
The repetition threatened to become unbearable because Aldric understood, and that was the problem. If he had been angry, she could have fought him; if he had been cruel, she could have hated him. Instead he was being reasonable once again, leaving her with nothing to push against.
"Then why does this feel like betrayal?"
For the first time that evening, Aldric looked genuinely sad. He rose from his chair, crossed the room, and crouched beside her, resting his hand over hers in a gesture that felt warm, familiar, and steady all at once.
"Because you're her sister."
The answer was almost unfair in its simplicity.
Emotion rose unexpectedly in her throat, leaving her unable to speak for a moment as Aldric gently squeezed her hand.
"I'm not asking Leander to decide her fate," he said quietly. "I'm asking him to help us protect her."
The fire crackled softly between them while snow continued falling across the estate beyond the windows.
Maelin closed her eyes.
Yesterday she had brought her sister to safety, and tonight she was preparing to place that safety in someone else's hands.
She understood why and even agreed with the reasoning, yet understanding did nothing to ease the ache.
As she sat there listening to the wind beyond the windows, she found herself wishing, for the first time in many years, that doing the right thing felt less like losing.