Victor Rosevale's Arc

Chapter 13 of 18

Victor kept his hand on Sable's stomach a long moment after the kitchen went quiet. Then he moved. He banked the fire. He pulled the wool blanket off the bench and set it around her shoulders. He filled the kettle without asking. She watched him with a small crooked smile and let him work. By the next week he had a routine. He rose before dawn and walked to the castle kitchens. He scrubbed pots and hauled sacks and kept his head down so no old face from the gate would catch him. He took every extra shift the cook offered. He came home with flour on his sleeves and coin knotted in a rag inside his boot. He emptied the rag into a tin under the floorboard by the hearth. The tin was heavier every Friday. He brought Sable things. A jar of honey. Wool socks. A wedge of soft cheese from the dairy stall. He carried the water himself from the well and would not let her lift the bucket up the step. When she reached for the pot he moved her hand aside and lifted it for her. She rolled her eyes and let him. "You are going to wear yourself out," she said one night. She sat by the fire in the timber-framed house they shared, feet up on a stool, one hand flat on the small round of her belly. "You worked fourteen hours." "I am fine." "You are not fine. You are gray." "I am saving." He knelt and pulled off her boots. "For the baby. For after." "After what." "After I am done at the kitchens. A shop. A stall at the market. Something quiet. Something they cannot take." He set the boots by the fire. "I want you to have the baby in a house that is paid for. I want the midwife paid before she walks in the door." Sable was quiet. Then she caught his wrist. "Thank you." "For what." "For all of it. I thank God for you and all we have every night.” On the sixth week the midwife came. Seraphina was the elf friend Sable had chosen, silver hair braided back, green eyes steady, a layered dress that never seemed to catch the dust of the road. She set her satchel on the table and washed her hands in the basin without being asked. "Sit," she said to Sable. To Victor she said, "You may stay." He stayed. He watched her hands move over Sable's belly, careful, sure. She listened. She counted. She asked three questions and no more. "Well?" Victor said. Seraphina straightened. "The child is strong. She is strong." He let out a breath he had been holding for weeks. Then Seraphina looked at him. Her voice dropped a note. "There is one thing. Not for today. But you should sit down when I tell you." Victor sat.