“This is no place for babes and we’ve no stocks of food and we are barely scraping by and—” She sucked in a breath. “And, and the last time—” she couldn’t finish the sentence and put her face back in her hands, refusing to look at him.
It took Orval a moment. “And the last time you told a man you were expecting his baby, he rejected you in the cruelest way possible.”
She didn’t look up, just kept crying, wiping her face with her hands.
For a long moment, Orval didn’t move, afraid to say anything that might hurt her, unsure that he could even find the right words.
At last he struggled to his feet, limped over, and took a nappy from the basket by the hearth. He sat next to Amari and offered her the cloth. She took it, staring at him, all bleary-eyed and teary.
“You can dry your face with that, if you like,” he said. “Or I can dry your face with kisses.”
She snort-laughed, choking, stared at him for an endless moment, then threw herself into his arms.
Orval managed to brace himself with his good leg as he took her weight, then held this warm, wonderful woman tight. He didn’t try to shush her, just let her cry. Once her sobs eased, she tried to pull back, but he held her tight for a few seconds longer before releasing her—just enough to rain kisses over her face.
Which made her smile and push him away enough that she could mop her face with the cloth. He kept his arm around her shoulders.
“I was so afraid,” she whispered.
“How long have you carried this fear alone?” Orval asked.
“Since Wethe confirmed my suspicions.” Amari drew a breath. “Orval, it’s early yet. We could—” Another breath. “It might be smarter to take the medicines and…” her voice trailed off. Her next words were a whisper. “With all the dangers we face.”
“True, it’s dangerous to bring another child into the world,” Orval reached for her hand. “But—” he started, then stopped. “It is your decision, Amari. I support any choice you make. But oh,” his voice broke, “I so want another child with you. This child.”
“So do I,” Amari confessed. “With your eyes,” she whispered.
“No, with yours. Dark and sweet.” Orval choked back a sob. “The best reflection of both of us.”
She brought his hand up and kissed it.
“You are right,” he said, weak with relief. “We face challenges. But you are strong.”
“We both are,” she chided him. “In our own ways.”
“Yes,” Orval said. “The future holds no promises for us, beloved, owes us no obligations, that’s true. But we have our promise to each other, and if we hold true to that, we will find a way to build a Hearth.” He cleared his throat. “To that end, Hearth Mother, it would appear that we have met the requirements of entering into a formal marriage contract.”
She sat back, her eyes still wide, but shining now with hope. He brushed her cheeks with his lips.
“We will get paper and ink and draft it together, you and I.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “We will craft wonderful words, whole paragraphs and clauses, together, you and I, that will honor your traditions and mine.”
“That would be wonderful,” she breathed.
“This time, you will have to tell me what kind of bracelet,” he said dryly.
That brought a wet chuckle.
“There’s something else,” Orval said. “Something my Aunt reminded me of, before she passed. There are old words,” he took a breath. “Not used much these days, but a tradition in my family.”
You have honored my ways,” Amari said. “I will honor yours, if I can. Tell me these words.”
Orval hesitated. He’d never thought to say these words, never thought to find a companion, one who was willing to share his life, one who he could trust with his heart. But he wanted this, more than anything, and he tried to put his feelings into the ancient words.
“Amari Misalyn Anouk, flame of my heart, I would bond with you.” Orval said. “Be my star, my flame, my night wind and my morning sun, to the snows and beyond.”
Amari caught her breath, looking at him with eyes that shined with love.
“Orval of the Airion House of Xy, flame of my heart, I would bond with you.” She pressed her forehead to his. “Be my star, my flame, my night wind and my morning sun, to the snows and beyond.”
