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Abigail laughs. “To be fair, you thought it was fun.”
“Until the brats grew bigger and it became a chore,” Hisa agrees.
“Abigail is my witch,” Mag says proudly. “Holds space for my orc magicks.” She points a gnarled finger where my parents sit with Bakog’s. “Hannah has the sight too, and passed it to yer own mate, ye know.”
“So have all the visions been fulfilled?” Brun asks.
“Mine was of Bakog, carrying an unconscious girl in his arms as he rode on Tobias,” Abigail says. “With orcs trailing behind them.”
“Aye,” Brun says. “Then that would be when Shalia captured him and ordered us to return to Solaya. We followed them until we were sure Bakog got free.”
“You did?” I ask.
He nods. “Made sure you were both safe.”
Everyone turns their attention to Bakog. “Mine was of Shally crying and lost. Those would have been the nightmares she has.”
“And the one of her destroying her home village?” Brun asks pointblank.
I take a swift inhalation of breath.
“That was if she’d been with the orcs long enough to be with child. Her mind would snap and she’d destroy the village. But we found Shally before that happened.”
“Or,” Abigail says softly. “Mayhap she has destroyed her own. She killed the clan male that pretended she was theirs, that convinced her she went crazed from a head injury and killed their king.”
I suppose that’s one way of looking at it.
“’Tis all good then,” Brachard bellows. “Shalia can regain her memories on her own time without pressure.”
“But no pressure,” Aga says pointedly.
“That’s what I said.”
“I was gathering info about you,” I admit, wanting to come clean about everything. “Even learned from the little ones which horses belonged to which orc.”
“The little brats who can’t pronounce a thing?” Brachard’s laughter is loud and deep. “Tell me, what did you learn about my steed?”
“Well, wasn’t sure if it was Apple-O or Onion—”
And then the king is laughing even harder, deep bellows, his face red and clutching his sides.
Latsil—my father’s—lip twitches. “Aye, myiake. It is my horse who is named Apollo. Brun’s is named Orion. We both had twin steeds in the past, so when Pegasus bred a set of twins and they lived, we figured why break tradition.”
And everyone is dying laughing that Silann and Latjo told me Apple-O and Onion.
“But mine is nothing close to that. I ride Thunder,” Brachard frowns.
“Well, to be fair, they told me their father rode Apple-O and I assumed it was you.”
“I’d have been honored to be your father,” Brachard says. “But then you wouldn’t have the light hair of Latsil. And, you’d be much older, too old for my grandson.”
I feel sheepish at how easily I was fooled.
“’Tis probably time to build a couple more cabins,” Brachard says.
The males all groan.
“What? The days are still warm. And we can have them built quick enough. Besides, we will have help.” He rubs his palms together gleefully. “Blackhearts are coming. Will stop for the night on their way to Creede.”
