“Or for their physical differences?” Amari ventured.
“Just so. One of the many reasons I decided long ago on the solitary, scholarly life.” Orval put Lara down on the table and unwrapped the swaddling. “While the royal library tempted me, the people didn’t. Thus you find me, impoverished. And yet?” He glanced around at the kitchen shelves, stuffed with dishes and mugs, but also his books and papers. “Yet rich in what I value most.”
Lara wiggled under his hand. Orval looked down and gave her a smile. “Hey sweetling, let’s see to you, shall we?”
Lara blew a bubble of spit as he removed her nappy. He frowned as the birth cord came into view. “Is it supposed to be that black and nasty looking?” he asked.
“Yes,” Amari’s voice firmed up. “It will fall away soon. There is a small ritual,” she offered hesitantly. “The birth cord is burned as an offering to the Ancestors, with prayers for the child’s safety and welcome to the family.”
Lara was kicking as Orval struggled to wipe her, making sure to dry her folds. “We could do that,” he said absently. He glanced over to see Amari scanning the kitchen. She caught his look and dropped her eyes.
“You do not have a hearth-shrine in your kitchen,” she said softly. “I wasn’t sure that—”
“Father was of the Lord of the Sun and Mother revered the elements,” Orval explained. “I am a mixture of both. We can set up a shrine, if you wish.” He tucked Lara into a fresh nappy and started swaddling her. She stared at him with her eyelids drooping. “Hey, sweetling, now that you’re changed and dry, then maybe you’ll let us sleep a bit?”
“They will both sleep through the night,” Amari said, “eventually.”
“We need a contract,” he said again. “We can draft it together and I can age it enough to pass muster. We’ll count out the days and back-date it. No real problem.”
“But,” Amari looked down at Dalan, nursing hungrily. “Your Aunt,” she started.
“My Aunt will be spreading the word far and wide, I am sure.” Orval nodded. “But don’t you see? That will—”
Steps on the stairs drew their attention. “That should be the stipend.” Orval had been counting the days, hoping Xyrath and Satia would continue the funds and that they would arrive at the usual time. He gave Amari a swift smile as he opened the door, Lara in one arm, then stepped back in surprise. “Captain Ussin,” he said.
“Afternoon, Orval. Milady,” Ussin nodded at them both as he entered. “The King wanted me to personally deliver this, Orval. Said to make sure to hand it direct to you.” Ussin handed him a leather pouch. “And this,” Ussin added, holding out a sealed letter. “From the King and Queen.”
“Er,” Orval fumbled with the pouch, surprised by its weight. “Ussin, are you sure? This is far heavier than—”
“Certain sure,” Ussin said. He chucked Lara under her chin. He stepped forward and dropped the letter on the table. “Best be leaving you to it, then. I might stop in and see how Madam Winter fares.” Ussin straightened. “Fine woman, there. Smart.”
Orval blinked at the man. “Yes, she is.”
“I’m off, then,” Ussin nodded again and was gone before Orval could say another word. Orval elbowed the door closed firmly and scowled.
“What is amiss?” Amari asked.
“This is more than I usually receive,” Orval mused. He put Lara back on the table and untied the knotted cords of the pouch. The coins that spilled into his hand were gold. “Much, much more,” Orval said.
“The note might explain,” Amari said.
Orval broke the seal. “It’s from Xyrath,” he said slowly. “In his own hand. ‘Cousin, word has come of your good fortune. Didn’t know you had it in you,’” Orval rolled his eyes at Amari and was rewarded with a small smile. “‘Be assured of our well wishes and our intent to honor you and yours.’” Orval stopped. Not sure he wanted to share the rest.
“Is there more?” Amari asked.
“A post-script,” he said slowly. “In Queen Satia’s hand. That we will be invited to Court after our Walk to the Well. She looks forward to honoring us in person.” He paused, puzzled. “What is a Walk to the Well?”
Amari sucked in a breath and clutched at Dalan. “She knows.” Her voice trembled. “I cannot go to Court, Orval. All those people, staring. They will know my shame, know the truth, and we can’t—” her voice hitched and she started to breathe in short pants. “I can’t, I can’t, oh Ancestors, I—”
Orval reached over the table and put the tips of his fingers over her heart. Her heart was racing, her skin was clammy. Dalan had lost the nipple but mouthed it, trying to latch on.
“All’s well,” Orval whispered. “I’m here. Breathe.”
She focused on him, then, and drew a long, shuddering breath. It took a moment, but she calmed, her pulse slowing.
He pulled his hand back, but she clutched at it, her fingers cold against his. “Orval,” she started, but he shook his head.
“Think it through, Amari,” he squeezed her hand gently. “Think it through. We will let all the gossips do our work for us. Some will think a cripple has taken advantage of the situation to secure children. Some will think that a loose woman has taken advantage of a poor cripple to secure an income for her children. Others will think that the rumors about you and Eijer were false and that the children are mine. We will not fight it, nor make a secret of it, nor acknowledge it. We will let them think what they think. In the meantime, as they talk and titter and tattle to one another, Lara is safer thereby.”
