Magnar frowns, but he must figure it out quickly, because he bursts out laughing. “Fuck, of course. I should have known this was going to happen, but I was too preoccupied with my mother’s health. No, love, I don’t have to fuck you tonight, and I definitely don’t care how I have you after. It’s enough that I do. Let’s get you dry, hmm? Tell your pussy it’s quite safe from me.”
He takes me out of the tub and swats my hands away when I try to dry myself. Instead, my husband, the king, gets down on his knees in front of me and strokes my skin with the soft towel, giving me mischievous, seductive looks. My knees weaken, and I sigh when I realize I might have one more romp in me, after all. Magnar has some kind of magic I am unable to resist.
But we’re almost late for supper, and it’s important to be punctual to the table. Meals are our family time, and they are sacred. I need a distraction, and I remember just in time Magnar doesn’t know yet what I discovered about the cause of Idrina’s malaise.
“So she misses Father,” he says with a frown after I explain what I learned earlier. “You know, I remember that jewelry set now. Does she truly wear it? I didn’t see it on her today.”
I shrug on a dress, and Magnar runs a brush through my hair. “When I saw her, she had the ring on, but she could have easily hidden it in the blankets if she didn’t want you to see. She held the necklace in her hand, and she told me she rarely puts on the brooch. Do you think she’s ashamed of wearing it? I can’t imagine Idrina giving a duck’s tail about what other people think.”
“I’m not sure, but I do know one thing: we have to find that brooch.”
“Agreed.”
Magnar takes my hand and pulls me outside just when the excited voices of our children ring in front of our door. He scoops Nisha in his arms and I pick up Sameel, who immediately pulls at my neckline, making impatient noises. He eats solids for most of his meals, but I still give him the breast in the morning and evening. I help him latch on and carry him while Magnar questions Nisha about her day. She tells us with breathless excitement about archery practice with Khay.
“Only Alda and Shami were allowed to shoot because I’m too small, but Papa Khay said I can start practicing next year! He’ll get me a special bow! You’ll have to come and watch!”
She bounces in Magnar’s arms, and he laughs, kissing her forehead. “Of course, my fierce warrior daughter. You’ll make a formidable queen, shooting her own enemies. Though do start with wooden targets. I’m afraid we suffer from a dearth of foes who deserve shooting these days.”
I smile, holding my baby boy close, and watch my husband with our daughter without fear or apprehension, only love, because I know she’s safe with him.
VII Family
Magnar
When the servants clear the tables, I force thoughts of a grain yield report I haven’t finished reading from my mind. Caliane has one rule for me—only one.
Be with family after supper.
I suppose I dragged her through quite an ordeal when I brought her here first and almost drove myself to expiration with work. These days, work has to wait. At least until dawn.
I glance at my wife, who smiles at Alda, Khay’s niece, as she tells us about shooting practice. Alda has grown into a strong young woman, one who’s not interested in suitors or feminine passions. She carries herself with confidence and adheres to a rigid training program. It was Khay’s idea to teach the girls to fight, one my mother applauded.
“They must learn they aren’t helpless. It’s the only way.”
My mother taught them how to use words as weapons, and Khay honed their prowess with swords and bows. It started with innocent wrestling, but now, both sisters are warriors I wouldn’tdismiss in a fight. They are shorter than Agnidari women but not by much, and their speed matches ours. Apart from the difference in height and skin tone, which is paler and tinted warmer than ours, they are passable Agnidari.
Not that it matters to me. Both girls are family and will be a part of my court as long as they want to. Only, it’s interesting to see howmychildren may look when they grow up. Right now, one couldn’t tell them apart from Agnidari kids, maybe save for smaller ears and their blunt baby teeth.
Sameel hits his soup with his spoon, and a servant rushes in to take the soup away. He sits in a wooden high chair far enough from everyone that we won’t be hit when he decides to turn food into missiles. I check to see if he’s upset, but all my son does is look confused and exclaim rapidly something none of us can understand yet.
“Yes, that was a very good soup, Sam,” Caliane says, putting her napkin away. “The entire meal was excellent, as always. High praise for the cook. Nish, baby, you look ready to fall asleep on top of your plate. Let’s go brush your teeth, all right?”
“But Papa Arvi said he’d sing us a naughty song if we ate everything off our plates!” she complains, her lips bowing under the threat of tears. “Daddy, you promised!”
Arvi scratches his head, shooting Caliane an uneasy look. “It’s not really a bad song,” he says, barely moving his lips, probably hoping Nisha won’t hear him and feel tricked. “So don’t skin me alive for this.”
Caliane rolls her eyes, waving her hand at him in a gesture that’s both queenly and affectionate. “When a knight makes a promise, he must deliver,” she says gravely, though I see the laughter in her eyes. “The floor is yours. Entertain us.”
Arvi clears his throat, standing in front of our long family table and takes a deep, flamboyant bow. He has a flair for the stage, and he makes up his own songs that he likes to perform. This oneis new, and it’s a quirky little story about a cat that fell in love with a mouse and chased after it only to lick it and see how it tasted. He sings in the language of Roharra, and Caliane leans in to me at one point, enquiring about a word she doesn’t know.
“It means a pillock, someone dumb,” I explain in a whisper. “Not really a bad word but it will get annoying when Nisha repeats it over and over for the next week.”
Caliane nods with a sigh, though she’s smiling. Arvi finishes the song, describing how the smart mice lured the lovesick cat into a trap and ate him. He bows again and receives a deafening applause from the kids and the rest of our court, who sit at tables farther away but stopped their conversations to listen.
We take the kids upstairs. Sameel dozes off in Caliane’s arms, only waking when she runs a warm cloth down his cheeks. She changes him into pajamas and brushes his teeth while I help Nisha brush her hair and braid it for bed. When Caliane lays Sameel in his large crib, he puts his pudgy arms around her neck, and she stays there for a good minute, smiling as she waits for his body to go limp with sleep.
Nisha is less tired but remembers to speak in a hushed voice so as not to wake her brother. The kids share a room for now, though Nish will get her own next month.
