The marcusi, secretive and secret, were sworn to the Blood. He’d take word to his superiors and they’d find a place of safety for Amari and the babes. Someplace better than a crippled scholar’s quarters. Which reminded him…he took down the butter crock, where he stored his extra coin. No books this month; that was certain. He’d need the funds to buy better food. He’d been saving for that original volume ofAncient Tribes of the Plains, but he set that aside with only a twinge of regret. Amari deserved better than pease porridge, that was certain.
Of course, that was assuming that he’d still receive a Crown stipend under the new King. But worrying wouldn’t bring answers and his own exhaustion was creeping in.
Orval put the crock back and returned to his tasks, working until the dirty dishes were cleared, more water and porridge placed in the oven, and clean mugs set out for tea in the morning. It had taken longer than he’d thought; light was starting to spill through the small windows. Orval yawned, taking up the copper lantern. He’d nod off at his desk and—
Pounding at the kitchen door, startled him wide awake, his heart once again racing in his chest.
“Open! Open, in the name of the King!”
Chapter Seven
“Open! By order of King Xyrath!” The person outside was shouting now.
Orval’s heart leapt madly against his ribs. He stood frozen, in his stained and rumpled robe. Staring around the room like a fool, not sure—
The pounding came again, four hard blows. The door seemed to bulge in the frame.
“Coming, coming,” he yelled as he limped to the door. Whoever it was seemed intent on breaking in. He offered to the elements, and unlocked the door only to stumble back, nearly falling, pushed aside by a pair of tough-looking warriors, all in chain and leather, bearing the crest of the Wyverns. They smelled of rain and rust and death.
Orval caught himself on the table as they stormed in, setting the crockery rattling. “See here,” he began, but was interrupted.
“Awake, were you?” That was a voice he knew only too well. Captain Ussin walked in, one hand on his sword. He’d been a big, burly bully when they’d fostered together; now he stood a bigger, burlier soldier. More gray hair, the same piggish eyes.
“Who wouldn’t be, with all this clamor.” Orval said, hoping the weakness in his voice was taken for anger. “Ussin,” he nodded. Damned if he was using the man’s title. “I understand that Xyrath has triumphed on the field.”
“By the will of the Lord of the Sun, he has,” Ussin boomed, still using his battlefield voice. He looked around, peering into the corners while his two men took up positions by the hearth. “My King sends me to you to greet you and ensure your safety.”
Orval blinked, steadying himself against the table. “Well, my thanks, but that is hardly necessary. I am a distant cousin, a minor member of the royal family, after all.”
“Still,” Ussin boomed as he prowled about the room, “my king has commanded that two guards shall be posted outside your door, to keep you safe and escort you on your daily errands.”
What was the man looking for?Orval pulled his robe a bit tighter around himself. “I really don’t see the need—”
“Orders,” Ussin said firmly. “For all the family of the House of Xy.”
“Very well, then, if that’s His Majesty’s command, we must obey.” Orval straightened. “You might stop in and mention that to my landlord, Madam Winter of the House of the Weary Traveler. She has a great deal of respect for the king’s men, you know.”
The two soldiers perked up at that.
“My thanks to His Majesty for his care of us,” Orval started, just as a shrill cry cut through the room.
The wail of a babe.
Ussin’s head jerked up, as did those of his soldiers. Ussin glared at Orval, then stomped though the open door and into the corridor.
“Here now,” Orval protested, limping after him. “Ussin—”
The babe wailed again, then went quiet. Ussin stopped in the doorway of the bedroom. Orval limped up behind him.
Amari was propped up on the pillows, clutching Dalan at her breast. Her eyes were wide with terror.
“Captain Ussin, I must insist—” Orval started breathlessly.
“I am also commanded to keep an eye out for a newborn babe,” Ussin growled. “Who is this?”
The moment froze between one heartbeat and the next. Dazed, Orval felt his lips open, not sure where his words were coming from but speaking with an authority he didn’t know he had. The lie flowed easily from his lips. “Ussin, I’d like you to meet my wife, Amari, and our twins.”
Amari’s expression changed ever so slightly, like a shutter closing over a window. Orval’s heart sank as he struggled for words. She’d deny it, of course. A cripple. Elements forgive him, he’d—
