She had only taken a few steps when she was forced to place it down again. She wiped her hands on her blue cotton dress and reached for it once more.
‘Step aside,’ Astin said, returning to her.
She did as she was told, watching as he hoisted the crate in the air. He somehow managed to perch it on one shoulder as if it were a basket—all the while keeping hold of the boar.
‘Shall I take the pig?’ she offered.
He glanced sideways at her. ‘And end up in the water?’
She played with the ends of her long hair to give her hands something to do. It was bad enough that he had found her at the port—alone. Now he got to play the hero, and she was forced to let him.
‘Keep up, would you?’ he called over his shoulder.
She glared at his back before following him down the dock.
Lyndal’s sisters and mother stood in a line staring down at the crate with varied expressions. Blake’s brow was pinched in confusion, and Eda’s head was tilted as she curiously eyed the animal. Their mother’s mouth hung open, but no words came out.
‘In a few weeks, we shall have boarlets,’ Lyndal said, trying very hard not to look at Astin, who stood leaning against the cart with an amused expression. ‘And when they’re big, we can slaughter them for the merchant families who are really struggling.’
‘Boarlets?’ Blake said, tucking her hair behind her ears. ‘Not piglets?’
Lyndal swallowed. ‘The domesticated pigs we’re familiar with from our youth are rarely seen outside the farming borough nowadays. This is the next best thing.’
The boar squealed and thrashed as if poked with a hot rod. The crate rocked from side to side, then stilled.
‘You’ll need stronger fences,’ Astin said. ‘The pen you have at present won’t hold her.’
‘Yes, thank you, Farmer Fletcher,’ Lyndal said, glancing in his direction. ‘I know you’re on duty tonight, so we shan’t keep you.’
Astin had a way of speaking to her that made her feel like a child in need of supervision. And his stormy stare was so penetrating, she often found herself looking away despite efforts to the contrary.
The defender walked to the front of the cart and climbed up, gathering the reins.
‘Lyndal,’ Blake whispered. ‘At least thank the man for collecting you from the dock.’
Thank him?She had endured a lecture on pig care for the entire length of the journey. How a defender knew about such things she had no idea.
Drawing a breath, she called, ‘Thank you, defender. Your help today was much appreciated.’
His gaze slid to hers, weighing her down once more. ‘Can you do me a favour?’
‘What’s that?’
‘Please don’t go buying a wildebeest believing it to be a cow. I’ll leave you on the dock next time.’
Lyndal’s fingers curled closed as she drew a long, deep breath. But before she had a chance to respond, reins slapped the horse’s rump, and the cart pulled away. When she looked back at her sisters and mother, she found them all smiling at the ground.
‘Your laughter only encourages him,’ she pointed out.
Blake pressed her lips together in an attempt to stop. ‘When you give him the ideal reaction, that too encourages him. He says these things to get a rise out of you, and it works every time.’
Her mother, Candace, stepped forwards and took hold of Lyndal’s arms. ‘What on earth possessed you to buy a boar from a stranger?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. A decade of famine and rain that shows no sign of stopping? A new king who cares more about his appearance than his people? A distinct lack of meat in the merchant borough despite an ongoing supply? Take your pick.’
‘You cannot fix all the problems in the world,’ Candace said, brushing a thumb down her daughter’s cheek.
‘Which is why I’ll settle for one borough.’
