“Drive,” Cark ordered.
“Sir? Your destination?” Marshall asked.
“There is no destination. Just drive.”
With a flick of his whip in the air, the Oathtaker urged the horses forward, directing them to a roadway leading out of the camp.
“I suppose you’ve heard about his intended visit,” Cark said.
“He’s coming here?” The report clearly pleased Grik.
“Yes, to dedicate the newest addition to my estate when it’s complete.” Cark chuckled. “Brilliant. What a brilliant plan.”
His fellow officer laughed along.
“You’ll recall he didn’t initially take to my idea, but I think he’s come around. I’ve convinced him that it’ll give us added authority over the men.”
“Nothing like control of the women to control the men,” Grik said with what sounded distinctly like a giggle.
“You’re such pigs,” Chaya said out of nowhere.
Marshall visibly jumped at the sound of Cark slapping her—hard.
“Shut up,” he ordered.
She did not cry out. A moment later, she spoke again. “Such a big man you are.”
The sounds of another blow sounded out.
Why does she taunt him? Marshall wished he could stop the coach and show both men what he thought of them, but instead, he ground his teeth to keep silent.
“Really, I might stay silent if you hadn’t already proven to me that there’s no difference in how you treat me whether I speak or not.”
Marshall longed to look back to watch the exchange, but dared not.
“Watch out,” Cark warned.
“Or what? You’ll beat me?” She laughed, though there was no mirth in the sound. “Again?”
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