Killik and Ulfarr both growled with disapproval at this, and even Sune was rapidly signing his displeasure — but Cecily was very slightly smiling at Timo, and wiping at her eyes. “What’s a Skai?” she whispered back. “And I’m a rubbish swimmer, too.”
Timo’s smile twitched higher, and he gave a teasing glance over his shoulder toward Sune. “The Skai are mayhap our fiercest orc brothers,” he said. “And this is no matter about your swimming, for if you come with us, you can learn this with us at our new school. With Miss Gee.”
Cecily’s wet eyes angled up toward Geva, but they looked uncertain now, rather than fearful. And looking back down at her, Geva suddenly felt a deep, staggering longing, clutching in her chest. Cecily could come. Cecily should come.
“But — what about the kidnapping law?” she made herself say, her voice hoarse, her eyes darting helplessly between Ulfarr, and Killik, and Rathgarr. “Wouldn’t we be — breaking the treaty? Risking retaliation?”
Killik’s mouth pursed, his eyes catching on Ulfarr’s. “Mayhap not,” he said slowly. “Not if she has already run away herself, with naught of our hand in it. What fault is it of ours, should she wish to keep running away with us? Most of all if she issureshe has not been followed, and that there isnaughtto link her to us?”
He frowned back at Cecily, who was still clutching to Geva, though she was standing a little straighter, the fear almost fully faded from her eyes. “I’m quite sure,” she whispered back. “I think — my aunt probably thinks I’m stillsulking in the cellar.”
Her voice had shifted into a very serviceable echo of her aunt’s grating voice, and Geva shuddered, even as Rathgarr loudly grunted with displeasure. “Then it is settled,” he said flatly. “You shall come with us, little one, and we shall care for you. And should you wish, you shall also come to our school, and learn to swim with Timo and Trygve and Sune, along with much else.”
Cecily’s eyes on Rathgarr were blinking, shifting between something like awe and hope and uncertainty, and he abruptly swept over, and knelt down before her. “But only should you wish, little one,” he said, softer. “And mayhap we shall only agree to a month, so you can see if this suits you. But should you choose to stay, I shall vow to keep you warm, and fed, andsafe. And I ken my mate shall eagerly support me in this, ach?”
He’d glanced up toward Geva, but she was already frantically nodding, and clutching Cecily even closer. “Of course,” she said, her voice cracking. “Of course, sweetheart.”
Cecily blinked up toward Geva’s face, her eyes bright and wondering — but suddenly she was nodding too, while more water streaked down her little face.
“Yes,” she said, on a shaky, gulping laugh. “Yes, Miss Gee. Let’s go.”
52
For the rest of the evening’s journey, Geva, Cecily, and Rathgarr walked together on the road, while the rest of their party again travelled through the nearby trees. The arrangement had been at Rathgarr’s suggestion, and Geva had agreed that it was a good one — not only to account for Cecily’s obvious tiredness, but to give her some quiet time to adjust to all this, as well.
Thankfully, despite the faint moonlight, it was also now dark enough to preclude any irritating comments from passersby, which meant that they were able to speak freely, without interruption. And at Cecily’s request, Geva first told her the entire tale of her own adventure to Orc Mountain, and then — with Rathgarr’s help — she answered every single follow-up question Cecily asked. About whether Orc Mountain was cold, or dark, or dangerous, and what kind of food they ate, and where they slept, and whether they might allow pets?
And while Geva had already appreciated Rathgarr’s skill and patience with children, she found herself marvelling at the honesty and thoughtfulness of his answers. Even admitting, without the slightest hesitation in his voice, that he himself did not want a pet, since he already had his kin and a school to look after — but that if Cecily was willing to bear all the responsibility for a pet, he would do his best to find her one.
“But not in our room, ach?” he said, with a grimace over Cecily’s head toward Geva. “A dog might mess on our furs. And a cat might scratch our linens and clothes. And, I have kept some tapestries for our walls from the hoard, poppet, but what shall a cat do to those?”
He was beginning to look distinctly distressed, and Geva laughed and shook her head. “No pets in our room, sweetheart,” she told Cecily firmly. “But there are plenty of empty rooms along our corridor, and I think you’ll be very comfortable in one of those. Rathgarr’s brother Kesst is a marvel at arranging rooms, and I’m sure he can set you up with as many pet-proof furnishings as you need.”
This thankfully seemed to mollify everyone, and Geva felt warm and shivery all over when Cecily huffed a happy little laugh, her thin body clutching closer into Geva’s side. “It sounds wonderful, Miss Gee,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
Geva swallowed hard, pressing a kiss to the top of Cecily’s head, and then glancing over at Rathgarr, who was watching with surprising fondness. Not looking even slightly concerned about the fact that they’d unexpectedly acquired a child, and Geva found herself smiling at him, slow and true. Her helpmate. Her bondmate. Hers.
They stopped for the night at a familiar inn — the very same one, in fact, that Geva and Rathgarr had used on their first night of travelling, weeks before. But this time, Geva reserved two adjoining rooms, and soon Cecily was fast asleep in her own bed, curled up tight beneath Rathgarr’s fur.
“Are you sure about this?” Geva asked Rathgarr, once she’d latched the door between their two rooms, and settled beside him on the bed. “I’m sure you didn’t actually want another entire person to look after, did you? And what if it ends up being… forever?”
It almost felt too precarious to even speak it aloud, but Rathgarr loudly harrumphed, and bodily yanked Geva over onto his lap. “I told you weeks ago, that if ever we had the means, we should steal her away,” he said firmly. “And you” — he exhaled, pressed a kiss to her hair — “you have granted me such help with Kesst, poppet. It is only right, and mayhap even a gift from the gods, that I can now help you.”
Geva gave him a watery-feeling smile, and sank closer into his strong, solid embrace. Feeling him circle his arms even more tightly around her in return, wrapping her up in warm, sweet safety.
“And most of all,” he continued, quieter, “now that I know what befell your own mother and father. This must have brought you such grief and fear and unease, ach? And then I came to you, and threatened you, and sought to steal what little you had worked so hard to gain. Ach, poppet” — his voice hitched — “no wonder you feared me as you did, and sought in such earnest to help me. No wonder you were so skittish around me, when you are otherwise so poised and graceful.”
He kissed her hair again, and then gathered her even closer, his hands running up and down her back. “I wish to make amends to you for all this, my sweet,” he murmured. “I wish to grant you peace, and ease, and safety.”
The words seemed to settle in Geva’s chest, soft and certain, and she nodded as she curled up closer, drank him in. And when there was a sudden, sharp knock at the room’s main door, she barely even twitched, not even when Rathgarr gave an approving little slap to her arse, and then slid her aside onto the bed, and went to answer the door.
It turned out to be Abjorn, smiling halfheartedly back and forth between them, and holding up a basket of what appeared to be fresh-picked berries. “The orclings wished to send these for the human girl’s breakfast,” he said. “And Killik wished me to ask if there is aught else you need?”
“No, thank you, brother,” Rathgarr replied, as he set the berries on the nearby nightstand — although he was studying Abjorn oddly, his head tilting sideways. “But is there aughtyouneed?”
Abjorn was shifting from foot to foot, his eyes not quite meeting Rathgarr’s. “Naught… really,” he said, with a jittery shrug. “I only thought… I thought mayhap Sig had come with you. Thought mayhap… I caught his scent.”
Rathgarr’s smile was warm, and perhaps a little too understanding, as he clapped Abjorn on the shoulder. “Ach, you did,” he said, “for Sigarr did come with me. He said” — his smile went rather wry — “he did not yet trust me to roam around the realm alone.”
