He wasn’t sure they noticed he’d left.
He leaned back against the door, and took a deep breath.He’d never dealt well with arguments and raised voices.They made him uncomfortable and uneasy, enough that he needed to leave the room.He envied Yfin.The lad had bolted his food and asked permission to go talk to his friends, then been out the door, quick as a wink.
Once he had closed the door of their bedroom, he took another deep breath.Amari, Roth and Rosalind weren’t fighting, he reminded himself.They were just discussing Old Petro’s farmstead.Loudly.
Lara cooed in his arms, chewing on her squishy fists, her eyes wide and bright.
Orval sat on the edge of the bed, smiling down at his daughter.Then his stomach tightened all over again, his supper a stone in his gut.Amari had found some peppers and the meat had been spicy…
That wasn’t the reason his guts were cramping and he couldn’t fool himself into thinking it was.
They were looking to him to make a decision.
It had been so much easier at home, back in Edenrich.His stipend, his books, his quiet hours of contemplation and study.The only real decision he had to make was whether to use his money to eat or buy books.
Yes, he’d had disputes with other learned men and women, but those were usually over pen and ink.A wave of longing swept over him, for the quiet and comfort of his books.
Lara chortled and waved her drool-covered fingers at Orval, reaching for his nose.
Orval smiled and leaned in, enduring the damp, sticky, priceless touch.Lara, his bright-eyed baby girl, his child-by-choice.It was his responsibility to care for her and Dalan and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
And caring meant making decisions, elements aid him.
Lara gave a tiny grunt and scrunched her face in concentration, which could only mean one thing.Orval sighed and rose to get the necessary supplies.Decisions and dirty nappies.Every parent’s doom.
Roth was right, the farmhouse was not that defensible.Yet Roth was wrong: the Keep didn’t offer that much more in the way of protection.Not without extensive—and expensive—repairs.
Rosalind was right, in that life in town might be easier, with staff and servants.They would be closer to the action and more visible to the people.
Orval frowned.But Rosalind was wrong, in a way.Being out of sight, not pushing their presence on the townspeople, might make their welcome warmer.Especially if they were seen to be doing the work that needed to be done to restore the farm, showing that they wanted to be self-sufficient and part of the community.
He poured water into the basin and started to clean the baby.Lara shrieked at the touch of the wet cloth, kicking, making it that much harder do the task right.
Orval struggled on.
Rosalind had also argued that the Keep was the proper setting for the Blood of Xy.To leave would diminish him in the eyes of the people of the Black Hills.
As if his withered leg didn’t already accomplish that.Orval was everything a Lord High Baron was not, lacking the warrior skills, not to mention the swagger.
What worried him more was her saying that the farmstead was no fitting place for the Blood and the future queen of Xy.
Who was currently blowing bubbles with her spit.
Orval moved fast, fastening her new nappy and starting to clean up after himself.The future queen of Xy wouldn’t stay distracted; bubbles didn’t last that long.
What if this precious girl didn’t want to be queen?
Orval paused in the middle of washing his hands.That hit him hard.
He was no stranger to being unable to live up to the standards of those around him.He’d been set expectations that he couldn’t meet, no matter how hard he tried, and punished for his failures.Shamed and embarrassed for being different, over something that was not his fault.He looked down at Lara, who was now contemplating her toes and trying to put them in her mouth.
She caught his gaze, started to wave her chubby hands and babble, clearly trying to explain her new-found discovery to him.
He desperately didn’t want that kind of life for her, not in any way, shape, or form.He remembered Xywellan, from when they had fostered together.Wellan, who had enjoyed the peace of the library over the shouts of the sparring circle.Wellan, who had been miserable, yet tried his best to do his duty to his kingdom.
And had died for it.
“Orval?”Amari called from the bottom of the stairs.“Is everything all right?”
