“No. No one is going to hurt us before tonight.” I wondered if he knew how not-comforting that was. “I'd just rather not have a conversation with whatever idiot kids thought following us was a good idea.” His jaw was tight. He swiveled to watcharound him, often. I wasn’t certain how much he believed his words of faith in his people.
When the homes of the village were glowing through the foliage again, I touched his arm. He started, like someone had thrown water on him, but he waited. He didn't shake me off. “I'm sorry,” I said. “That they found your meadow. I know that was special.”
He blinked. “Thank you. I…appreciate that.” He turned away. “Come on. Let's see my parents.”
TALK
Stew trembled into my bowl.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
Khal’s grandmother didn’t smile. Drazha sat across the fire from Khal and I, her glare searing over us. I had more than enough practice being in a place I was unwanted. I had existed at Belnor keep as a failure and a gutter rat in the eyes of everyone but Thea; I could bear up under her gaze next to Khal. I ignored the roiling in my gut and ate my stew.
Drazha broke the silence first. “Terzha will be disappointed that you broke the agreement.”
Khal lowered his bowl. “I doubt that.”
“She was going on one more rotation to the North before hand-fasting.”
“Terzha is a capable woman. She will easily find someone she likes much better.”
“She had put off taking a man from among the Il-Draz because of your offer!”
“Youroffer.”
They stared at each other.
His eyebrows were raised high. “Do you want me to send some apology? No gifts have been exchanged.”
She spat. “This is not about gifts. It’s about the honor of your words.”
“I gave her no word.”
“Lies! I remember?—"
“I can ask Terzha to stand witness for me. We barely spoke these past two years, and I most certainly gave her no oath.”
I spooned another bit of meat into my mouth. There was some carrot in here, sweet.
“But I’m glad you value my word so highly. Because I’ve given it to Rowena.”
“Whatis a Rowena?”
“This. My wife.”
“And what is she? A daughter of their fetid baron’s blood? Sent with a dowry of lies and colored water?—"
“My wife.”
Her voice rose. “You are not married until?—"
“Darling.” Piotr had taken her bowl, was filling it again. “Let’s let the boy talk, hm? There’s no harm in talking.” He rested his hand on hers.
Her nostrils flared, but she wasn’t yelling, which was an improvement. She asked, instead, in an even tone, “Why this one?”
Khal didn’t flinch. “We suit each other.”
“You have clearly chosen her only to defy me.”
