A Brother's Price

checking back with the Queens Justice to see if any more information has surfaced on the thieves.” Raven glanced meaningfully to Jerin. “I thought you would need a few days before sending your brother out to be married.”
    With a sudden ring of silver on china, Doric dropped his fork on his plate. “Jerin won’t be coming back, will he? Once he goes off to get married?”
    “I’ll be back,” Jerin said with careful cheerfulness. “It will be just like our cousins. You’ll see me from time to time.”
    “I don’t want Jerin to go away like Papa did!” Bunny, the littlest of the youngest sisters, suddenly wailed.
    “Papa died, honey.” Jerin reached across the table to pat her. “I’m not going to die. I’m just going to live at someone else’s house.”
    “No!” Bunny cried, ducked under the table, and scrambled up into his lap. “I don’t want you to go!”
    It triggered a wave of crying little girls. Most of the youngest over five years old managed to contain themselves. The three- and four-year-olds, though, could not be consoled.
    He hugged them, four and five to an armful, rocking them. “Hush, hush, this is a wonderful day for the Whistlers. We shouldn’t be crying. We should be happy and celebrating.” The words were like ash in his mouth, but to show his own pain would only make his little sisters unhappier. “I know—let’s forget about dinner and make ice cream and cake.”
    “Ice cream?”
    “Cake?”
    “Maple ice cream and pound cake,” Jerin said firmly. “Come on, let’s go into the kitchen and start making them.”
    “You’ll have to excuse the family,” Eldest murmured to Captain Tern as Jerin herded the sniffling girls toward the kitchen. “We lost our father early this spring, and our mothers have been gone several weeks. The little ones are fragile at the moment.”
    Captain Tern waved away the apology as unnecessary. “They’re just babies. They seem to love their brother well.”
    “Jerin has lots of patience with them,” Eldest said.
    “Patience is invaluable in a husband,” Captain Tern said. “Children need a nurturing hand to grow them into strong women. His wives will be lucky. Tell me, how did your father die so young? Heart failure?”
    “No, no, it was an accident.” Eldest sighed. “He slipped on icy steps and fell. He struck his head…”
    Jerin was glad when the kitchen door swung closed, shutting off that quiet conversation. Tonight would not be a good time for him to have those wounds opened by the recounting of their father’s prolonged death.
     
    Captain Tern rode out after a breakfast of dinner leftovers, promising to return at dusk. Jerin waited until his youngest sisters were deeply entrenched in their morning chores before he started to pack; there was no need to give them fresh reminders that he was leaving.
    His wedding chest would go with him. He took everything out and repacked it carefully for the trip, mindful it would be shifted and possibly dropped. He used his wedding linens to pad the bone china tea set his mothers had bought for him on his twelfth birthday. There would be no way to foretell the quality and wealth of his future wives, his mothers had stated as he’d unwrapped the expensive gift, but his children should be raised with manners befitting the blood of the Queens. At that time, his grandfather, Prince Alannon, and two of his thieving spies of grandmothers were still alive, and they laughed until tears came to their eyes.
    He kept out three of the silver engraved spoons stolen from the Castle Tastledae, and three of four tintypes he had of Prince Alannon. These he divvied into his younger brothers’ wedding chests so they each would have something from their royal grandfather. Another generation or two, and there would be nothing to share out but memories.
    He took only his best clothes, leaving behind his work clothes for Doric. Lastly he packed the items about his room that he wanted to keep, leaving only his quilt out, to be added on the day he left.
    He sat staring at the now stark room. What was he forgetting?
    His birth certificate!
     
    The family records box sat in the corner of the parlor, firmly locked against little fingers. The key was kept on the high trim piece of the window beside it. Jerin no longer had to stretch to reach the key, which surprised him.
    The first piece of paper was the death certificate for their father. Jerin set it quickly aside. Under it was baby Kai’s birth