“It’s a bad wound,” she whispered again, not sure who she was trying to convince.“It might do no more than stave off death, given the blow.”
Deep within, she felt Aramal’s pain echo in her own heart.
Wethe sighed.So be it.She dug deep into her mending bag and drew a worn, silver brooch from its secret pocket.She gently rubbed her thumb over the raised half-moon and its accompanying silver stars.She hadn’t done this in so long, always wary of discovery.
Well, it would be as it would be.She went again to check the door was securely bolted, then returned to the bed.She looked down at her patient as she pinned the brooch to her tunic.“Don’t make me regret this,” she whispered to Rye.
She rubbed her hands together, warming them, focusing with half-closed eyes.She placed her hands on either side of Rye’s head, combing through his thick black hair to make sure each fingertip touched skin.She drew breath, then, and let it out slow.
“Hail to thee, Lady of Laughter,” Wethe started the old prayer, keeping her voice low and soft.
Her hands began to glow.
The sound ofa sharp inhalation of breath roused Amari.“Orval?”she whispered into the still darkness.
“Sorry,” came the reply from beside her.
“A cramp?”she asked, lifting her head from her pillow.Their chamber was lit with moonlight, enough that she could see.
“Nightmare,” his breathing was ragged.“I close my eyes to try to sleep and I see him, coming toward me, sword in hand, coming to kill—” he stopped and swallowed hard.
Amari shifted, reaching out to cup Orval’s face.His skin was cold and clammy under her fingers; there were tears on his cheek.“Orval, you’re freezing,” she said as she wrapped herself around him and felt the tremors running through his body.
He threw his arms around her and she put her head on his shoulder.“I had my dagger,” he said.“But all I could do was feint and flick that damn scarf in his face.I see him coming, and there’s nothing I can do, I can’t move, I can’t—”
“Roth said you did well,” Amari said.“For a bookish type,” she added.
Orval snorted a thin, trembling laugh.Amari closed her eyes and listened to his racing heart, breathing in his scent of ink and paper and skin.She’d feared for him, all that time, waiting to hear what had happened, sitting with her children, helpless, nothing to do but sit and wait and wonder and worry.
A different kind of nightmare.
Orval seemed to sense her disquiet.His arms tightened around her.
“We’re safe,” Amari reassured him, and to be honest, herself.“Here,” she found his hand, as cold as the rest of him, and held it to her heart.“I am safe, the children are safe—”
“Ten men dead in our courtyard, obeying the Queen.”Orval sighed.“What of their families?Lives cut short—”
“Orval, those men would have given no second thought to your death,” Amari protested.
“They were offered the food and comfort of the Hearth and they offered harm in return.”The very idea angered her and she spoke sharply.“They deserved no less.”
“Ritathan will probably die.”Orval continued.“Aramal already grieves his death.I let them take Halithe—”
“No, you allowed her to make a choice,” Amari said firmly.“You allowed her to save her master and keep us safe in the bargain.Brave girl, to offer herself like that.The Ancestors aid her to find her way back to us.”Amari shifted so she could see Orval’s face in the moonlight.“And you have won the loyalty of the Black Hills.Or at least, the town of Waerington.”
“Ritathan was keeping secrets,” Orval said.“He never mentioned the Ring.”
Amari nodded.“As we kept secrets from him and Aramal and Halithe.That was wise.”
Orval nodded, staring at the ceiling.“Ussin told me that Xyrath warned him.That Ussin was to carry out no orders but his.”He looked at her, his eyes glittering in the light.“Why would Satia do this?We did nothing to her, we are no threat to her.”
“She plots and schemes, so she thinks we plot and scheme in our turn.”Amari said.“Her reward is constant worry and paranoia.Eventually she will come to see that.We will defeat her.”
“With our bean harvest?”Orval asked wryly, but she felt him relaxing against her.
Amari nestled back down, her head on his shoulder, his hand on her heart.She covered that hand with both of hers, feeling warmth return to his fingers.“We will work and grow in all the good gifts the Hearth brings us, in spite of her.We will be wary, but we will not fall into despair or hate.”
“As you say, wise and wonderful Hearth Mother.”Orval kissed her ear.
