Warsong (Chronicles of the Warlands, #6)(66)

Everyone held their breath, but Keirson settled quietly.

Lara turned, her voice hushed. “Enough. The babes need their sleep, and I think everyone could benefit from rest. I, for one, am taking a nap.”

Joden rose, as Keir gestured toward the door. “Come. Let’s see to a room for you.”

Joden took a step, then hesitated, looking back at Amyu, still seated on the floor. She gave him a nod of encouragement, and it was enough.

Joden nodded back, ignoring the glances of the others. He turned and followed Keir. They eased out of the door quietly, but once it was closed behind them, Joden shook his head.

“S-s-spar?” he asked.

Keir’s face lit up. “There’s a practice ring outside the kitchens.”




Amyu rose quietly as the others left. The Warprize had already eased herself onto the bed, and the babes were sleeping. She’d follow Joden and see to it that he— Marcus was in front of her, dirty dishes in hand and a glare in his eye.





Chapter Twenty-Three


Amyu was grateful that Marcus let her change into tunic and trous and tie back her hair before marching her down to the scrubbing room off the kitchens. He was in little mood to let her do anything else, already grousing at her as they walked.

The large stone room held wooden tubs for washing, with long, narrow windows high on the walls. Sunlight streamed in through the steam as the kitchen maids poured heated water in the tubs, chattering as they worked. They looked up when Marcus entered, raising eyebrows, and clearing a space for them. There was no lack of understanding glances Amyu’s way.

“What were you thinking?” he groused as he plunged the dishes into one of the tubs. “Herself just giving birth and has two new babes to care for, and you traipsing—” he gestured for Amyu to wash.

Amyu stayed silent, and concentrated on each dish. Never mind that Anna’s staff would have washed these as well, especially since they were close to finishing their tasks. Amyu knew that this wasn’t really about the dishes.

But she wasn’t going to prolong the lecture by missing a spot.

“Herself all flustered, with not having enough milk—”

That got Marcus some dirty looks from the women around them. Men in Xy didn’t talk about babies apparently, or breasts or the milk they contained. Amyu noticed some rolling eyes in their direction. Of course, men in Xy also did not wash dishes.

Which puzzled Amyu. They ate, didn’t they?

But the maids' disapproval didn’t stop Marcus’s sharp tongue. At least he was drying as he scolded.

“—finding out you caused the old cheesemaker to collapse. Herself is fond of her—”

Amyu flushed at that. She’d no defense against his truths. She had caused the old woman’s rage, as angry as anyone she’d seen without a sword in hand.

“A woman just giving birth, finally having to send someone to find your sorry carcass and—”

The maids had finished and scurried out, leaving just her and Marcus. The pile of dishes had diminished, but quite a few remained. Amyu poured more hot water in, and set to work with a will as Marcus continued to rant. At least he hadn’t decided they’d do dishes for the entire castle.

Shouts from outside, and the sound of sword on sword, coming from the narrow windows just above her head.

“Hisself and Joden, no doubt,” Marcus rubbed a pitcher dry. “The practice circle is just outside.”

Amyu lifted up on tip-toe, catching a glimpse of Joden through the high window.

He was circling Keir, laughing, his grin wide. His bronze face glistened with sweat, and his laugh… his laugh boomed out as Keir lunged and missed.

Amyu dropped down and stared at her wet hands.

“Good for them both,” Marcus said gruffly. “Work the body to ease the worries.”

Amyu turned her head to look at the scarred man next to her, calmer now that he’d had his say. “He almost went to the snows.” she shared.

Marcus’s scarred lips thinned, but he said nothing.

“He is broken,” she admitted in the quiet room. “Like us.” She picked up a wet bowl and picked at a bit of dried food with her nail. “I fear for him.”

“Dishes don’t wash themselves,” Marcus said pointedly.

Amyu stared down at the bowl. “How did you bear it, Marcus?” she asked, then froze, shocked that those words had come from her mouth.

Silence.

Maybe she hadn’t actually said the words out loud, and praise all the elements that—

“How did you?” Marcus asked. Quietly, without anger or shame.

Amyu didn’t look at him. “The Warprize gave me hope. I thought to find… more. To prove my worth is more than an ability to bear children.”

She risked a glance to find Marcus nodding his agreement. She dared to breathe.

“I had a reason,” Marcus said quietly. “People who I needed to protect. I lived for them, not for my own self. I lived for the Tribe, but it was not without pain or cost.”

Amyu stared down at the bowl again, watching a soap bubble pop.

“Dishes won’t wash themselves,” Marcus said again.

She nodded, and started back to work.

“He will need to find his own reason,” Marcus continued. “But the loss of a voice for a Singer,” he shook his head. “That is not easy to overcome.”