Artie flashed her a smile she didn’t think he believed. “I’m sure you’re right.”
As they reached the house, a woman who was the elder spitting image of her daughter greeted them in the doorway, a baby fast asleep in her arms. Golden hair and a friendly smile, she had a few extra pounds on her giving her a more matured beauty than her daughter’s. If she was upset by the sudden guests, she didn’t show it, but instead welcomed them in as though they were old friends.
“Artie, you didn’t tell me we were having guests. I’d have made more food,” she scolded her husband.
“I’m sorry Marybeth, they came into town just earlier today.” He shot her a loving look. “I couldn’t leave them out there, all things considered.”
Mary nodded with full understanding. “Yes, I’m sure that’s right.”
Artie pulled the cap from his head as he reached his wife and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek, careful not to wake the sleeping infant in her arms.
Mary swept her arm at the strangers. “Come in! Please come in. It’s so chilly out and I have a hot stew cooking over the fire that will warm you all right up.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Felius dipped his head at her as they approached the porch, leaving his battle axe outside next to the door. “You and your husband are too kind.”
“Oh, it’s not a problem.” Mary shook her head. “Artie is always bringing home people in need of a hot meal and a warm bed. It’s no trouble at all. Let’s get you inside by the fire and I’ll have some blankets brought to the barn.”
They thanked them again for their kindness as they stepped through the threshold of the farmhouse. It was warm, with immature drawings all over the walls, a handwoven carpet splayed out and the smell of a hearty stew brought it all together in a way that hugged Ambrose as she took it in. She’d never seen ahomebefore.
Though they’d just eaten at the tavern, as the aroma hit her, her stomach growled and she was left to realize just how much their journey had taken out of her. Her muscles ached and protested as her stomach demanded more.
“Make yourselves at home,” Artie told them. “I’m going to get the horse and cart put away. My home is your home.”
“Boys!” Marybeth shouted into the house. “Company! Come say hello.”
A juvenile about the age of twelve came running down the stairs, followed by his younger brother who couldn’t have been a day over nine. The older one had sandy brown hair that Ambrose assumed he got from his father—though she was guessing—as Artie’s hair had lost all color. He smiled a semi-toothless grin as he greeted them, waving eagerly at the newcomers. His brother however, clung to his older brother’s shirt, peeking at them from blue eyes the shade of the ocean. The shade of Adym’s. With his golden hair tangled on his head, he reminded her so much of her own brother when he was that age that she almost burst into tears. He had a shy smile that couldn’t have been more opposite to Adym’s confident one, but her heart tugged in her chest at the sight of him all the same.
The older boy introduced himself, “My name’s Alyx, pleasure to meet you all.” He swept into a bow with a dramatic flair that was reminiscent of the Grand Mage. Both fans of theatrics. Ambrose couldn’t help but appreciate the boy’s silliness.
“It’s nice to meet you, Alyx.” Danthan smiled and bent into his own dramatic bow. “You may call me, sir Danthan.”
“You’re not a knight.” The boy’s face lit up as he ran giggling down the hall.
“Is that so?” Danthan teased, chasing after him.
Ambrose bent down so she was eye level with the small blond boy who stood in place, wide-eyed. “And what’s your name?”
The boy ran to his mother, clutching her skirt. “Antony,” he said, barely above a whisper.
“Antony,” she repeated. “That’s a really nice name.”
The boy gasped and hid further behind his mother’s skirt, peeking out at her with only one eye.
“He’s the shy one.” Marybeth pat him on the back as Artie joined them in the entrance. “Don’t know how that happened with this lot.” She threw a loving glance at her husband who laughed softly and put his arm around her. “You all met our eldest daughter, and the two youngest boys, my eldest won’t be here but this—” She raised the sleeping infant slightly. “Is Lyda.”
“You have a beautiful family,” Akadian spoke for the first time. “And a lovely home.”
“Thank you.” Marybeth nodded a bow to him. “I’m sure it’s nothing like you’re used to up in the Capital, but we’ve put our hearts into it.”
“It’s perfect,” he told her.
The couple ushered the group inside and brought them to the biggest room where a fire roared in the corner, a table in the center and an extra sitting area along the back wall. A black pot boiled something delicious on the fire as they all took seats where they could. Before they could finish sitting down, Marybeth was placing a steaming bowl in front of each of them. True to their word, at the end of the table sat a full serving of stew that no one claimed or touched. Waiting for someone who might not come home.
They spent the evening eating, drinking and getting to know each other. Marybeth and Artie spoke of the recent harvest season and the good fortune it had brought them while the party members told them stories of the Capital and the wonders that could be found there. The small boys held onto the stories with every word, playing with marbles at their feet as theygiggled. Antony sat at her feet and shot nervous glances up at her but grew more comfortable by the minute. Eventually, practically sitting on top of her feet as he played with his brother. Ambrose looked at the scene in front of her, throat tightening as she wondered if this is what it would’ve been like growing up with a real home and family. If she and Adym had been born outside the palace with their freedom and their parents. This family didn’t have much, but they had each other and she envied them. What could her life have been like had she been born in this village instead?
She held back her sorrow as she told herself to appreciate the look into another world. A happier world. Their world.
She’d always be grateful for this moment.
