37 - Amelia’s Ward

  Garrick watched his wife from the window of his study, resting his head in his hand. A soft smile tugged at his lips as she moved in the garden below, smiling and mingling among the women who had arrived to attend her tea party. Every nod and dip of her head, every bright smile and raised hand, every twinkle of her beautiful eyes made him love her even more.

  He didn’t think he could love her anymore than this moment right now.

  “We’ll put him in the second-floor room, at the end of the hall.”

  It was the first thing she had said after Garrick told her everything - the monster, the lie, the secret, and the truth. Barely a pause, even. Garrick blinked.

  “What do you think?” Amelia asked, tapping her chin with a knuckle. “It’s quiet there, and we have the playroom nearby from when Jorin and the grandchildren were young. We can clear out that space and give him room to move. And it’s close to us in case anything happens.”

  He squeezed her hand and lifted it to his lips, brushing them across the back of her hand.

  “I am lucky to have loved you,” Garrick said softly.

  “Yes you are,” Amelia laughed softly, eyes twinkling.

  “Are you mad?”

  “Why should I be?”

  “We did lie.”

  Amelia shook her head. “Sometimes, secrets are important to keep, especially since knowledge of them can be more dangerous than having no knowledge of them. And I trust you. Maybe not Fenric, but you?”

  Garrick barked out a surprised laugh.

  “And here he was defending you and saying I owed you a shopping trip,” he said.

  “Oh, then I definitely trust him now,” she smiled.

  His smile faded a little and he asked another question.

  “Are you nervous?”

  That made her pause.

  “A little,” she admitted. “But you said your most trusted knights would be here? Then, we’ll be fine. Besides, we raised Jorin, didn’t we?”

  Garrick groaned at the thought of his now adult son.

  “In some ways, Luka might be easier,” he admitted.

  Amelia’s smile was soft as her eyes lit up.

  “Luka,” she breathed. “What a good name. Is it his? Did you get him to talk to you after all?”

  Garrick shook his head. “No. It was Maeve’s idea. She’s the healer I was telling you about. She’s got a good hand with him. You’ll like her.”

  “Indeed, I already do.”

  She reached out and brushed his chin.

  “It will all be fine. I know you have so many burdens on your shoulder right now, but you’re doing wonderfully,” she said. “You did the right thing.”

  “I hope so,” Garrick mumbled.

  “You did,” Amelia insisted. “If for no one else, than for that boy. The rest will follow, Garrick. You’ll see.”

  He had no idea how he had gotten this lucky. This blessed. God himself must have granted him this beautiful, beautiful wife. There could be no other explanation. He couldn’t have done anything to deserve this. Nothing he had ever done in his whole life could have earned him Amelia.

  But he had her, and he wasn’t letting go.

  “Ahem, sir?”

  Garrick glanced up, realizing that he’d forgotten Gregor was even there. The old butler stood patiently, eyes quiet with concern.

  “Are you alright, sir?”

  “Sorry, Gregor,” Garrick said. “I was…distracted.”

  Understanding dawned. A faint smile curled beneath the butler’s mustache.

  “I don’t think anyone could fault you for being distracted by the lady, sir.”

  Garrick cleared his throat and sat up quickly. “Alright. How are the preparations going?”

  “Smoothly, sir,” Gregor replied, his voice as steady as ever, though the faintest amusement still lingered behind his mustache. “The second-floor room has been cleared of fragile items and unnecessary furniture. The rugs have been secured, corners padded, and the sharp fixtures removed. We've replaced the chairs and writing desk with softer pieces from the nursery. Lady Amelia was quite precise in her instructions.”

  “She always is,” Garrick muttered fondly.

  Gregor inclined his head. “We've also relocated the toys and storage boxes from the old playroom. A few of the maids took it upon themselves to clean and air the space. They thought it might help the boy settle in more quickly, if he’s allowed some familiar comforts.”

  Garrick’s jaw tightened slightly at that. Comforts. Luka didn’t know what that word meant yet. But one day, maybe.

  “What about the kitchen?” he asked.

  “Wooden utensils have been purchased. The pantry has been stocked with soft foods and mild flavors. We’ve instructed the staff to avoid sudden noises and to refrain from approaching him without instruction. Cook asked if the boy has any allergies.”

  “He...we don’t know,” Garrick admitted. “But thank her. Tell her to keep things simple for now.”

  “Yes, sir. And the training yard is nearly ready as well. We’ve roped off the western half, as you asked, and the practice dummies have been removed. Only the padded gear remains. It should give him room to learn without injury. Master Veylan visited earlier this morning, as well.”

  “Good. Very good.”

  Gregor hesitated then—just a beat—then stepped forward slightly, lowering his voice.

  “I know there are complications. But I think it’s rather wonderful that you and the Lady have chosen to foster a child like this. War makes orphans of too many. A wounded boy with unstable magic? He couldn’t have landed in better hands.”

  Garrick glanced up. There was no suspicion in the butler’s tone, but perhaps there was a little knowing. He liked that about Gregor. He was no fool, but even though he didn’t know the full story, he trusted Garrick enough to jump in without question. Perhaps it wasn’t just Amelia he ought to be thankful for.

  “He’ll need watching,” Garrick said after a moment. “He may not behave like other children.”

  “None of them do,” Gregor said mildly. “Children, I’ve found, come in endless shapes and temperaments. Take, for example, young master Jorin’s twins.”

  He gave Garrick a pointed look. Garrick snorted.

  “Yes, I take your point,” the high commander said, smiling. “Though, perhaps Sorcha had some hand in their raising.”

  Gregor smiled and shrugged. “I’m only saying, the temperament of children is not always predictable.”

  For a moment, Garrick simply stared at his desk, looking over the papers he had messily scribbled up plans on last night with Amelia. Schedules, lists, reminders, and contingency plans - every line carefully thought out, meticulously considered. But if Garrick knew anything about children, it was that they were often unpredictable. Still, it wasn’t that concern that gnawed at him the most. It was his people. He glanced up at Gregor, who was completely unaware of whom they were about to house. His gaze flickered down to the medallion, which had reclaimed its resting spot momentarily on his study desk.

  “Gregor,” he began hesitantly.

  But Gregor merely shook his head. “The servants are fine, sir. You have our support. We shan’t ask too many questions, and I’ll make sure gossip stays to a minimum.”

  Garrick smiled in wordless thanks and nodded. He glanced out the window again. His eyes wandered to Amelia, who laughed quietly behind her hand.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “How long until I have to leave?” Garrick asked absently.

  “Long enough, sir.”

  He stood, reclaimed the medallion, and strode out of the study without looking back, ignoring the quiet chuckle from Gregor that followed as the butler simply leaned over and straightened the papers on his desk.

  A sweet floral scent wafted on the breeze as Garrick stepped out into the garden. He didn’t often interrupt these types of social gatherings, preferring to let Amelia have her moment. She quite enjoyed the planning, always a smile on her face as she sent out her hand-crafted invitations and assisted the cook and servants with preparations. And he rather thought she enjoyed the socializing, too.

  “It is as much a battlefield amid the gossipy noblewomen as it is in the courts of men,” she would always say. “Only we do it behind fans and practiced smiles.”

  But he also remembered the quiet satisfaction that rested on her shoulders and the way her eyes would crinkle at the corners in genuine happiness. Even during the war, she had found ways to bring her social circle together, organizing donations for those who had been removed from their homes or crafting supplies for the soldiers at the front. Today was the first true gathering she had hosted in the last two years. Garrick did feel a little guilty dropping in unannounced - his medals and title often invited questions unsuited for a gathering such as this - but he would be damned if he left for the tower today without at least holding her hand one more time.

  The women had already sat down to tea by the time Garrick arrived. He recognized many of them - their husbands familiar to him. He caught their attention as he walked up behind his wife. Smiles spread on soft faces as he raised a finger to his lips. Quiet giggles sounded behind hands, but Amelia remained oblivious, caught up in a point.

  “I believe we should continue our gatherings,” she said “With a future this uncertain, perhaps we ought to work ahead of the need and - oh!”

  As she gestured, Garrick caught her hand in his and raised it to his lips. She beamed.

  “Good morning,” she said brightly. “I thought you were gone.”

  “Good morning, my love,” he murmured.

  He bent down and kissed her cheek.

  “Oh my,” Countess Miriam Lyndon laughed.

  Amelia blushed, pleased. Garrick nodded to Miriam.

  “Countess,” he said. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”

  “Considering you have stolen my husband from me, you will forgive me if I do not find as much pleasure in our meeting again,” she replied. “Although, if you can teach him to be half as affectionate as you…”

  She trailed off, eyes twinkling gleefully. A laugh rumbled in Garrick's chest.

  “I shall have a conversation with him,” he said, matching her energy. “To neglect such a beauty is simply a crime.”

  The table erupted in giggles. Miriam herself joined good naturedly, nodding back to Garrick respectfully.

  “Please forgive me, my love,” Garrick said to Amelia when the laughter died. “I merely wished to say good morning to my wife before my responsibilities took me away today.”

  He lifted Amelia’s hand and kissed it once more. Before he could walk away, her grip tightened on him.

  “Darling, before you go, did Gregor let you know how the preparations are going?” she asked.

  Garrick’s brow twitched. What? But her eyes were steady, firm. Now is the time to lay the foundation and get ahead of the rumors, they said.

  His clever wife. He smiled down and nodded. “He says they are going well, precisely to your specifications.”

  “Are you preparing for something?” Miriam asked.

  Amelia turned and smiled. “Yes. Garrick and I are accepting a ward into our care.”

  The whole table fell silent.

  “My goodness, that is quite the undertaking,” Miriam said.

  “Might we ask what brought that on?” asked Baroness Weston.

  “Certainly,” Amelia nodded eagerly. “Garrick?”

  Garrick smiled down at her. “He’s a war foundling. The Second Order found him a little after our final battle in a village that got caught in the fallout. He was terribly wounded. We think the only reason he survived was because of his magic.”

  Amelia shook her head sadly.

  “He’s had a rough go of it. Garrick’s knights have somewhat adopted him. They’ve been taking care of him while he heals, but we didn’t want to deny him a home.”

  The women exchanged glances.

  “How old is he?” asked Lady Vira.

  Garrick blinked.

  “Fifteen,” he said, hand tightening around Amelia’s unconsciously.

  “And you said he’s wounded?” Baroness Weston asked.

  “Terribly so,” Amelia replied.

  “Hmm,” Lady Allencourt mused, voice tight. “Countess Lyndon is correct. That is quite the undertaking. Are you two certain this is a good idea? Forgive me for saying, but…well…” she paused and looked around as if searching for the correct words. “You already have grandchildren.”

  Lady Vira added nervously, “And we have all seen the soldiers who return from battle. They are not always…whole. This poor child may not be…easy to handle.”

  Quiet murmurs began to circle around the table. Miriam waited for them to die down again.

  “Amelia, are you quite certain?” she asked quietly.

  Amelia smiled at her and nodded.

  “We are,” she said, sounding unapologetically confident. “Garrick tells me he is quite a handful, but he is…slower than most children. We fear the extent of his injuries has resulted in greatly diminished faculties. But I would be forever wondering if we did the right thing sending him to a home.”

  Miriam’s eyes immediately softened.

  “I see,” she said.

  And indeed, Garrick knew she did. They all knew of her precious niece upon whom both she and her husband doted on like she was their own.

  “The churches and orphanages are full of war orphans these days. So many displaced, adrift,” Baroness Weston said. “I doubt they would have much time for a child with such needs. And one with magic?”

  She shook her head.

  “Yes, Josiah and I often worry about that ourselves with Aria,” Miriam agreed. “If anything were to happen to her parents, we would most certainly take her in a heartbeat, but this war has been quite costly.”

  Lady Vira smiled. “Well, I think it’s a wonderful thing to do. You are quite the role model, Lady Voss.”

  Amelia shook her head. “Please do not interpret this as a charity. I would not think to pressure anyone into accepting a child they could not handle. But Garrick and I have experience on our side. Jorin was no easy feat.”

  There was a collective glance between them. Many had either seen Jorin grow up or had grown up alongside him.

  “It shall be quite different,” Miriam warned her.

  “We know,” Garrick spoke up. “But we feel it is important to do this.”

  The women exchanged more looks.

  “Well, needless to say, you have our support,” Miriam said. “All of us.”

  They nodded in agreement, smiles bright. Amelia reached out with her free hand and squeezed Miriam’s.

  “Thank you, my friends.”

  Garrick watched her, heart swelling with pride. This beautiful, wonderful woman. Enough truth had been woven into that story that it wasn’t actually a lie. And the way she had paved the path for Luka’s arrival and won allies? That meant Luka had that much more protection moving forward, that many more people who might be sympathetic to his plight.

  Lady Vira suddenly spoke up.

  “Then, can I take it that you have hope for this peace, High Commander?”

  The table glanced her way. She blushed, but Lady Allencourt spoke up beside her.

  “Forgive us, High Commander, but we are only curious. I, personally, don’t see why we shouldn’t hope for the best,” she said matter-of-factly. “The ceasefire is signed, the monster is dead, and Savidor came to us and requested the advance be halted. If that is not a quiet victory, I don’t know what is.”

  “It is rather hopeful,” Baroness Weston admitted quietly.

  “But I still believe Lady Voss is correct,” Miriam said. “If we become complacent simply because we believe it is done, then we will be surprised when it proves to be the opposite should that dreaded future ever come to pass. I say we should continue our work.”

  Amelia leaned closer to Garrick.

  He leaned down to hear her whisper, “We were discussing whether to continue our gatherings.”

  He nodded and straightened.

  “I agree as well,” Baroness Weston said. “Besides, just because the war is over doesn’t mean there aren’t still people who need help and assistance. We can focus our efforts on them.”

  “But that is why I was asking High Commander Voss what he thought,” Lady Allencourt protested. “I don’t mean to say I shall no longer attend and offer support to whomever we can, but to whom we offer it is the question. If Savidor is finding a need to fall back and regroup, it must mean we have dealt quite the blow. So there is some wisdom in redirecting some of our efforts. Am I correct, High Commander?”

  A silence settled as they turned their attention to Garrick. He smiled at her, jaw tight.

  “Forgive me, lady, but I am, perhaps, not the best audience for that question,” he said. “I am a pragmatic man, and my wife often complains that I only see the worst possible outcomes.”

  The women laughed softly at his self-deprecation. Lady Allencourt’s smile was slow but it came.

  “A perfectly political answer,” she said knowingly. “But I understand. Perhaps a different question then, in another vein.” She leaned forward, eyes sharp with curiosity. “We have all been wondering when you would speak on this, but…you led the attack that day, right? What was it like killing the Monster of Savidor?”

  Garrick felt like he had been dropped into an iced-over river with barely enough time to get his feet beneath him.

  “Justina!” Lady Vira hissed.

  But Garrick cleared his throat.

  “Exhausting,” he said, clutching Amelia’s hand even tighter now to keep it from trembling.

  “Oh come now, surely you can give us more than that,” Lady Allencourt pressed.

  Amelia’s voice was light, but there were daggers in her eyes as she said, “Some stories are more difficult to tell, and some may never be told at all.”

  Lady Allencourt blinked. “Of course, Lady Voss, I did not mean…”

  But she trailed off as Gregor suddenly appeared at Garrick’s arm. The butler mumbled apologies before whispering furiously into Garrick’s ear.

  “Right, I suppose I better leave right away, then.” The high commander turned and nodded to the ladies, smiling at Miriam. “I’m afraid I’m needed at the tower. Your husband, Countess, is summoning me. Someone has messed up supply lines to Rising City and we need to detangle the paperwork.”

  With one last kiss to Amelia’s hand, Garrick let it go and followed Gregor out of the garden. As he walked away, he heard one last heavy sigh.

  “Lady Voss, you are the luckiest woman in all of Adern. Would that I could find a man like your husband one day,” Lady Vira said wistfully.

  “I am lucky,” Amelia laughed.

  As their voices faded behind him. Garrick’s expression grew taunt.

  “You said a knight from the Second Order arrived? Who?” he asked sharply.

  “Sir Merrick,” Gregor said, keeping pace. “He said it was quite urgent.”

  They rounded the corner into the manor’s front drive. There, Merrick stood next to his horse, uniform slightly askew. He straightened quickly and saluted Garrick. Garrick returned it quickly.

  “What happened?” he demanded.

  “Sir, you better come quickly,” was all Merrick said.

  It was enough. Garrick felt a pit in his stomach as he nodded sharply. The stableboy was already approaching with his horse. He mounted and turned the mare’s head in the direction of the tower, trusting his knight to follow. If Merrick wasn’t saying anything out loud, that meant only one thing.

  Something had happened with Luka.