I cannot ask, cannot force him to say. Not knowing is better than knowing.
“We’re in Astarobane.” He picks up a piece of straw and twists it between his fingers. “Whereeverythingis different.”
“I know.”
Several moments pass where he doesn’t speak, he just stares beyond my shoulder. When he finds his voice, it’s low, bordered with sadness. “Why did you leave?”
My chest aches at his question. It’s a fair one, and he has every right to ask. One moment, I had been in Lanvilla, the village where we lived. The next, I was gone. I didn’t tell anyone I was planning to go. Not even Malachi.
“I had to.”
Emotions play across Malachi’s face. Emotions that increase the ache in the pit of my stomach. “I thought… Rather, I feared something bad had happened to you. I nearly came undone when I saw you riding into Astarobane with those warriors.”
“I’m sorry, Malachi.” Those words have burned against my tongue enough times. It’s nice to finally say them.
“All is forgiven, Sol.” He offers a reassuring smile. “I am just pleased that you are well.”
“Who is the blonde woman I have seen you with?” I ask as I return to milking Jersa.
“My wife.”
My gaze snaps to Malachi. “You’re married?”
A smile breaks across his mouth. “Why does that surprise you?”
“I just…” I force my hands to keep moving.
Malachi is married.Married.
I keep picturing him at seventeen summers. He was tall, gangly, and gentle. Malachi had always been so gentle.
“How long have you been married?” I ask in a surprisingly normal voice.
He scratches at his jaw. “Six. No, seven months.”
“What is her name?”
“Ella.” Torchlight weaves over his face as he shifts and places his hands against his thighs. “And you’re married to Commander Gabriel.”
I quicken my movements and nod.
“How did that come about?”
“The same way most marriages come about.” I shrug.
“Come now, Sol,” Malachi says. “You forget I know you. You wouldn’t just marry a Bloodstone warrior.”
It’s true.
He knows it. I know it. But I cannot show my cards to anyone. Doing so might mean death.
“And you wouldn’t just marry a Bloodstone woman, yet here we both are.”
Malachi nods after a moment. “I suppose neither of us care to divulge all our secrets.
I finish milking Jersa and stand. “I have no secrets, Mal.”
“From me?” He stands and picks up another piece of straw. “Or from your husband?”
