Blood of Quartz

Chapter 24

The way the torches lit the hallway they entered seemed cozy compared to how Erik felt. He fussed with his belt, missing the weight of the sword on his hip, and growled in frustration. The impatience and unrest ran through him, making him uncomfortable in his own skin.

They entered the main hall, and the servant woman who had let them in gestured up a stairwell. Erik looked at his father, who gestured up ahead of them with a wry grin. "Up we go, son."

Niall let out a snort of laughter at Erik's reluctance to move, and bounded ahead of them. His father shook his head and chuckled.

"Son, it is just your mother, and her family."

"Something about this feels so out of place for me. Not even a month ago, I was just—"

"Times change. Especially now, with the King's renewed campaign. I had hoped we would be finished and we could just be simple farmers. But, if this is the fate of our family, I'd say we did well, aye? Accept it, son. It will make it easier. Maybe you'll even learn to enjoy being a soldier?" his father chided as they mounted the steep steps slowly.

Erik made a noise of irritation and didn't answer. Fate? For the second time today, he had been given that word as a reason for their mess. Was it fate? He had no idea. It didn't feel like it. Fate would mean he was accepting of becoming a soldier, and excited about the future of his life, not dreading it.

At the top of the steps, the hum of conversation echoed through the door. Niall laughed, and a joyful baby-babble joined it. All sounds of happiness, which should warm his heart. He felt numb to it, and took a moment before he stepped through the doorway and had to pretend.

Niall had Samual's daughter on his lap, and she was happily clinging to his braid, attempting to stuff the end of it into her mouth. Abigail was laughing, a cup in her hands. Her hair was undone, which was different, a simply plait circling her head to keep it back from her face. She was wearing the same necklace as before, and it was catching the candlelight, sparkling at her neck.

She was focused on the child and Niall, and he had a momentary rush of possessiveness for her that he tamped down as quickly as it rose. He was still so unstable around her, had no right to her in any way, but he felt like he did. It was unnerving, and added to the unrest he was feeling.

Rather than be in a stuffy room, he wanted to be outside the walls, looking up at the sky, and taking lungfuls of cold, cleansing air of the country. He took several breaths in through his nose. Home was a metaphorical thousand miles away, and he twitched, wishing it weren't so.

Niall looked up as they entered. "I have been captured by this one, Erik. She's strong."

"You are well caught, sir," Abigail laughed, as she delicately removed the child's hands from around his braid, whereupon the tiny fists grabbed at Niall's shirt, gumming his knuckles as she played. Abigail caught Erik's eye and smiled widely, caught in the humorous moment. He couldn't help but be drawn in, and as he reached her, he lifted her hand to his lips and bowed.

"Abigail. You look—"

"Some wine?" she interrupted nervously, and he stopped, the moment over. She overwhelmed him so easily! He let her hand go, and she left him to go towards the table, bringing two cups, one for him, and his father.

"Orrick! To say that we are family, I am so pleased to know it," she said as she handed his father a cup, studiously ignoring him. His father smiled warmly down at her.

Erik had to focus elsewhere or he would go mad. He made his way through the room to where the remainder of the party was gathered, in an informal sitting area, a cheerful fire on. His uncle, the Dowager Countess, his mother, Ylaine, and now Niall happily bouncing the baby were all together. If not for the situation, it seemed his entire family, minus Craik, was under one roof, safe. He needed to let himself enjoy this, and worry about the crossroads of leaving tomorrow. He could not be a dour presence over this evening.