Just then, Chaya approached. “Good morning, all.”
“Good morning,” Velia said.
Jerrett tipped his head her way in greeting.
Silent, Marshall watched the landscape ahead. After a long minute, he turned to her. “I was thinking, Chaya,” he said, “that you might want to find things that interest you here—things you could assist with.”
“But I want to be with you.”
“I know, for example,” he said as though he hadn’t heard her, “that Adele needs help keeping us all fed.”
She glanced his way, her eyes narrowed. “Sure, Marshall. I’d like to do whatever I can. If you want me to help Adele, then—”
“No, I didn’t say I wanted you to help her, I only suggested it. There are other options. You could . . .”
“That’s fine, Marshall, I’ll check with her.” She turned her horse back.
Velia, watching the exchange, bit her lip. Then, “Is there something wrong, Marshall?” she asked.
“Wrong? No. Why do you ask?”
She shrugged. “I just— Well, it seems Chaya would like to stay as near you as possible. You rescued her from a terrible situation in Chiran, and I know how you feel about her. I can see it. So it seems odd that you’d be so short with her—that you’d send her away.”
Glancing her way, his brow dropped. “I didn’t send her away.”
“Very well then.” She turned to Jerrett. “You two got in late last night,” she said. “I take it that you filled Liam and Rafal in on what they’re likely to find in Chiran?”
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