Beside him, Finn shot him a frantic look, and Venn was grateful when Vera laid a comforting hand on the boy’s arm.
The men stopped a fair distance away. “May we join you?” the man in the lead asked. He had a graying beard and a lined face. He looked to be around fifty years old, and his clothes were dirty and worn. “We have fresh fruit we can share, if you have something to trade.”
“We have nothing to trade,” Venn said. “Perhaps you should find another group to share a meal with.”
One of the other men—younger, and with a thick beard—studied Venn openly. “You’re Zennorian, but you speak our language well.” His gaze skirted over Vera and the children. “Hired protection, perhaps?”
“I’m Devendran,” Venn responded, purposefully hardening his tone. “And theyareunder my protection, so you would do well to move on.”
The gray-haired man who’d spoken first eyed Vera, and though his stare wasn’t in any way lecherous, Venn still wanted to rip his eyes out. “Are you in any sort of trouble, my dear? We would be happy to escort you and your children, and we would charge you nothing.”
“No thank you,” Vera said. “We’re fine.”
“Are you certain?” The man’s brow creased. “It would be no trouble.”
Venn uncoiled his body and rose to his feet as he faced the men. “Move along, please.” He tried to keep his tone level, but he wasn’t sure he succeeded.
The bearded man’s eyes narrowed, but the graying man lifted his hands. “Easy, no need to get upset. We just saw the woman and children, and thought they might need assistance. These are dangerous times for Devendrans.”
“We’re quite well, thank you,” Vera said. She had also risen, the baby sling cradling Rebecca to her chest.
The older man tipped his head. “Very well. Safe travels, friends.” He backed away, but the group didn’t go far before they settled on the roadside and started to eat. The man with the dark beard kept shooting them looks, and Venn did not like his obvious distaste.
“We should go,” Vera whispered.
Venn wholeheartedly agreed. The children were uncommonly quiet as they hurried to finish their food, while Venn and Vera shoved the rest of their things into their packs.
“You don’t need to rush off,” the graying man called out. “We mean you no harm.”
Venn ignored him, though he heard muttering among their group. Not distinct words, but the tone was unfriendly.
Then the bearded one spoke louder, clearly wanting him to hear. “What’s a Zennorian doing with our women and children, anyway?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time they took what’s ours,” another man called out.
“Fates-blasted Zennorians . . .”
Venn lifted his sheathed sword and belted it rapidly. Vera herded the children to the horse, and then Venn swung them up—first Sarah, then Finn. Sarah looked nervous, her thumb in her mouth. Finn’s thin body was rigid as he clung to his sister, his eyes shooting to the nearby men.
“Everyone thinks they can steal from us,” another man in the group said, his voice a low growl.
Vera secured the packs on the horse, and Venn moved to help her, while also shielding her back.
Her voice was a bare whisper. “One of the men drew a knife.”
“Yes.” Venn set a hand on her lower back. “Walk on the other side of the horse,” he murmured. “Take the reins.”
“Hey! Zennorian!”
Venn ignored the harsh call and subsequent taunts. His hand was on the hilt of his sword, his senses alert to the threat behind him, but he refused to acknowledge them. Not unless they struck first.
He was already organizing his response.
He would need to throw his daggers first; if he could take out two of the men that way, he could potentially fight off the other three while Vera got the children away . . .
For the first time, he wished he’d taken Bennick’s offer of a couple of men. He could use the assistance in a fight.
“There’s no need for a fight,” the gray-haired man said, cutting over the other voices. Venn was surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “Just let them be on their way.”
