“What’s to be done?” Mira asked.
“Not for us to decide,” Avice flung her cloak over the mess, hoping it would wash clean. She wrestled the man up and heaved him over her shoulder. “It’s for the Queen to say.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“The invitation said nothing of this,” Orval stared at the young woman who’d come through the door into the kitchen, catching them all off guard. She’d brought cold evening air—and four warriors—into their warmth. The shiver down his spine had nothing to do with the loss of heat and everything to do with the expression on her face: stern, almost angry.
The invitation had said that a carriage would be sent to bring them to their presentation at the Royal Court and that they were not expected to appear until the babes had been fed and settled for the evening.
The invitation had not mentioned one of the Queen’s Bondmaidens being sent to tend the babes.
Orval hadn’t caught her name, he was so furious. “We’ve made arrangements,” he said firmly, nodding to Winter, who had retreated to stand behind Amari’s chair. The younger woman was nursing Dalan.
“‘Tis the Queen’s command,” the Bondmaiden said, with apology in her tone but none in her eyes. “I am to stay with the twins until you return. To see to their safety.”
Orval sputtered at her. “Hardly appropriate, bursting in with no warning.”
Winter’s face was a blank mask, as if she was trying to warn him to obey.
Amari stood, putting Dalan on her shoulder. “Husband,” she said calmly, “the Queen honors us by sending Bondmaiden Nora to care for our twins. I am sure Winter will welcome another pair of hands if both wake at the same time. Lara is already sleeping. Just let me put Dalan down and finish dressing.” She moved smoothly to the doorway. “I will need help with my lacings.”
“I still don’t see…” Orval let his voice trail off as he followed her down the hall. Once inside their bedroom, with the door closed, Amari’s face collapsed.
“Orval, we can’t leave them with her,” her voice shook as she tightened her hold on her son.
“We can’t afford not to,” Orval said quietly. “We can’t take them with us. Winter will be a witness and will watch over them.” He shook his head, resigned, and put his hands on Amari’s shoulders, then drew her close, the babe between them. “The best we can do is go quickly and come back as soon as possible. The King and Queen will greet us, then surely he’ll quickly dismiss his minor relations, a poor, impoverished scholar and his shamed wife, and we will return to change diapers and feed our babes and try to get everyone back to sleep.”
Dalan erupted with a burp twice his size. Amari laughed nervously and lowered him into his basket. Lara was already fast asleep in hers. “You’re right. I’m just—” She shrugged and went to the wardrobe for her red dress.
Orval averted his eyes, studying the babes as cloth rustled behind him. “This will be over by the next feeding. We will go and mingle briefly with those powerful, nasty, terrible people, endure their poisonous whispers, bow to the king and queen, and leave. We will come back to our warm kitchen and kavage and our stacks of books.”
“And fussy, hungry babes.” Amari came into view. “Would you mind?” She turned her back, holding the front of her dress to her breasts.
Orval swallowed hard. The skin of her back was so warm and smooth. It seemed a shame to conceal it under fabric. He focused on his task, taking care to not pull the laces too tight.
Amari took a breath, then turned to him. “Let us be about this.”
Orval nodded and shifted to put his lips close to her ear. “You have the token?”
“Here,” she whispered, putting her hand to her breast. “Marriage contract?”
“By your kitchen shrine.” Orval scowled. “She best not rummage through my books.”
That brought out a true smile. “Orval, you are the only one who can find anything in those stacks.”
He snorted, then smiled back. “Ready?”
“No.” Amari said. “But I am not going to let that stop us.”
“Together, then.”
“Together.”
At least thecarriage was well cushioned, though it was easy to see where the airion carvings on the doors had been burned off and painted over. With a warrior escort on horseback, they moved quickly through the town, through the gates of the palace, and up to the doors. Too fast, really.
Orval took a deep breath as the door opened, then climbed out slowly. He could feel the impatience of the guards, but he knew not to rush the leg and fall on his face. Once he was down, he turned and offered his hand to Amari.
She emerged with a grace he’d never had and a beauty all her own. The torchlight danced on her warm brown skin, giving gold tones to the bronze.
