“We sent letters, pleading to know what had happened,” Bercie wept. “But they would only say you both had died, and the Barony went to a Wyvern who—”
“I could do nothing,” Xydell wailed weakly. “I was ill for so long and they told me not to worry my head about such things.” Her voice was brittle, bitter, and angry. “Tithanna tried to help, but no.”
Bercie took Xydell in her arms, and Xydell went willingly, both women hugging and rocking each other in grief as everyone stood in stunned disbelief.
Amari looked at Orval.Did you know?
Orval shook his head slightly.
Their tears trailing off, Bercie helped Xydell settle back in her bedding. “A fine thing, to find you on the floor in a bed of velvet and fur,” she said. She looked over her shoulder at Orval. “Your ceremonial robes.”
Orval shrugged. “Thought it was more important to keep her warm than worry about my so-called dignity.”
Xydell snorted, tugged at Bercie’s hand. “My nephew,” she explained. “He’s a good lad, but no sense of the proper order of things.”
Orval glanced at Amari, his lips in a wry smile.
Xydell yawned, her eyes closing. Bercie went to rise but Xydell tugged at her hand. “Don’t leave me,” she whispered as she faded to sleep.
Bercie eased back down. “I will watch over you,” she said gently. Then she gave all of them a glare and her voice hardened. “There is much I want to know.”
Orval nodded and gestured to the men outside the door. “Come in, come in, let’s all get warm and talk this out.”
Roth stiffened, but to Amari’s surprise, the men, both young and old, sheathed their swords and started to obey.
“Cirda,” Bercie called. “Take word to your father. He’s waiting nearby.” The youngest nodded and headed off.
Amari heard a shuffling behind her as Yfin casually emerged from hiding, his knives sheathed. Orval caught his eye and jerked his chin up. Yfin nodded and headed up the stairs.
Amari gathered her wits. “I’ll brew kavage to warm us.” She released Orval’s hand after one last, heart-felt squeeze, and headed to the hearth.
Bercie’s men settled around on the floor. Roth closed the door and took a chair. Amari noticed he kept his sheathed sword at hand.
“What was done to her?” Bercie demanded softly.
“As to the past, I cannot speak to that.” Orval settled on a bench close by and stretched out his leg. “As to the present,” he drew a breath and began, telling almost all. It took time, and all their kavage, but Amari thought it was well worth it.
When Orval reached the part about the letheon, Bercie growled low. “Oarno,” she snapped. “Go fetch Wethe and tell her what you have heard.” One of the men rose and went out without a word.
Orval continued, explaining what had happened. The kavage was gone by the time he finished.
Bercie tucked Xydell’s hand under the crimson robes. “Help me up,” she commanded, and rose stiffly with aid from one of her men. Once up, she faced Orval. “The Black Hills hates Xy and all it stands for, Airion, Wyvern, makes no difference to us.”
Orval got to his feet and Amari moved to stand beside him. He would have spoken then, but Bercie raised her hand to forestall him.
“For the love of my Lady,” Bercie looked at Xydell and her expression softened, “Orval of Xy, we offer you respite. Shelter, food, and aid, such as we have.” Her grey eyes bored into both of them. “We do not acknowledge you as Lord High Baron.” she said curtly. “And I make no promises for the future.”
“Let it be so,” Orval said, nodding. “There is still much we need to know about one another before we can come to an agreement.”
“Hmm,” Bercie looked at Orval. Amari could see her puzzlement.
They waited in silence then, until there was a knock at the door. “Mother Bercie? It’s Wethe.”
Roth didn’t look happy, but at Orval’s nod, he opened the door. A stout woman walked in, with a younger girl behind her. “Who has a need?”
“Here.” Bercie stepped back, giving her access.
“What am I dealing with?” Wethe asked, frowning down at Xydell. “And why is she on the floor?”
