The captain spotted Maddek and urged his horse forward at a canter, then abruptly reined in his mount a few paces away. If a Parsathean warrior had drawn so hard on his horse’s mouth, he’d have found himself marching on foot for a tennight.
“Greetings, Commander Maddek!” Despite his heavy hands, the captain sat easy in his saddle. His face was shaven in the manner of Gogean men, chin bare and jaw full-bearded. “I am told that I have you to thank for the warning at the ruins. The wraiths had retreated underground when we passed, but we intended to stop there for our midday rest. I do not know that we’d have escaped so easily.”
Maddek inclined his head. “Did you leave warning for others?”
“We did.” The man dismounted. His gaze settled on Danoh, who waited ahead near the entrance to the inn, her keen eyes monitoring their exchange and watching for any threat to Maddek.
Few other people glanced in his direction now. It was Danoh who held the attention of almost every other soldier and villager who had reason to be outside—and it seemed many of them had found reason to leave their homes or had business at the inn that night. All of the Parsatheans drew notice. But Danoh’s tall, lithe figure—and her bare breasts—seemed to draw more notice than any other.
The captain pulled his gaze from Danoh to address Maddek again. “Do you and your warriors stay at the inn?”
“We do.”
“If you have no objection, I will accompany you there. I would ask you how the alliance’s army fares at the river.”
At the river Lave. Though the Gogeans sent only a single company to fight, this soldier might have friends or kin who served there. With a nod, Maddek continued toward the inn. “They fare well. The savages attack without the numbers or the frequency they once did.”
“But the Parsathean army has withdrawn?”
“It has.”
The captain gave no response, but his expression conveyed his uneasiness nonetheless.
“There are still alliance soldiers enough to stop the savages,” Maddek told him. “Did you ride with the Gogeans?”
“At the Lave?” The man shook his head. “I serve on the queen’s guard.”
Maddek frowned. “This far north?”
The walled city of Goge—and the queen—lay almost a fortnight’s ride south. This captain was far from his ruler’s side.
The soldier glanced toward the wagons, within whose beds sat sullen young men and women. “We are recruiting.”
And the recruits looked none too pleased by it. Maddek could not conceive of such reluctance, not when they would protect their families and their people. But perhaps he’d been too hasty when he’d spoken to the alliance council and accused the Gogean minister of only raising farmers, not warriors. “They will be trained to serve at the Lave?”
“To serve the queen’s guard.”
His frown deepened. “In the city? Not at the Gogean border?”
“The southern border is the alliance’s concern.” But the captain did not appear happy to say so. “Goge must be protected if the savages manage to cross the river.”
An entire realm protected by a queen’s guard in the city? “What of the people who live between the Lave and Goge?”
For there were many more villages in the Gogean outlands like this one. The citizens who lived in the city were not the ones who cultivated the fields.
Face troubled, the captain shrugged. “Our queen expects them to flee north.”
Where they would hide behind the city walls—if they reached the city alive. Disgusted, Maddek shook his head, but there was little else to say except, “The alliance forces at the Lave will hold back the Farians. Never would I have withdrawn if they could not.”
Though he didn’t appear completely persuaded, the captain nodded. They neared the inn now, and Danoh pushed away from the wall where she’d settled.
A flush tinged the captain’s dark cheeks as he looked everywhere but her breasts. “I will perhaps see you within, Commander,” he said and, with a nod to Danoh, led his mount around toward the stables.
Danoh made no reply except to nod in return, but when she looked to Maddek, her smirk said much more.
He grinned. The way the southerners wrapped themselves up, it was possible the captain had not seen tits—man’s or woman’s—since he was a suckling babe. Yet he had not stared at Maddek’s bare chest in the same way. Perhaps because the captain had his own male chest to gawk at, but Maddek couldn’t truly say. The southerners’ ways often made little sense.
The inn’s shutters and doors were wide open to let out the heat of the day—or the heat generated by the number of villagers within. When the captain and his soldiers finished tending to their mounts, they would be fortunate to find a seat. It was a lively crowd, though they quieted when Maddek and Danoh made their way between tables to where his warriors had sat down to their meal.
His gaze immediately went to Yvenne. She sat where he would have positioned her—at the center of a long table, with her back to the far wall. Banek, Fassad, and Toric sat across from her, with Kelir and Ardyl at her sides. Protected from every direction.
Protected, and focused on her meal. Her gaze did not lift from her plate, though in every other village they had passed through, it seemed that she could not stop looking, eagerly taking in every detail and questioning Banek about many of them. Here was a crowd of villagers to observe, yet her eyes were downcast and her head bowed, as if she were hiding her face.
Maddek frowned. He had never yet seen her hide from anything—and he had already told her not to fear identification. If her brothers and father were in pursuit, no need to search for a moonstone-eyed woman. The Parsathean warriors she traveled with drew enough attention that every villager along this road could point out their direction.
Kelir’s eyes met his and the big warrior shifted along the bench, making room for Maddek beside his bride.
Yvenne’s moonstone gaze flicked up then, and by the softening curve of her lips, she was relieved to see him. Such naked welcome sent heat directly to his loins, and Maddek left no room between them when he took the seat beside her, pressing his hard thigh against her softer one.
On his left, Kelir asked, “Did you find new mounts?”
“I did.” Maddek reached for the flagon of mead in front of Yvenne’s plate. The drink was half empty, which might account for her subdued manner. Some warriors fell asleep after drinking not much more than this. “Four with Parsathean blood. We collect them from the blacksmith’s in the morning.”
“We’ll pick up our pace, then,” Kelir said, and signaled to a barlad with curled hair and bright eyes. “We’ve not had to pay for a meal or a drink. It is the villagers’ gratitude for keeping the Farians across the Lave.”