AYLETH
Etan led her out of the little cottage and it felt like she walked naked across the small green lawn towards the stable. Everything within her recoiled at the idea of looking at the two men when they reached the little building. Etan squeezed her hand as they rounded the hedge and he opened the gate, ushering her through, his eyes on her until the space opened up and the two men became visible.
Borsche was squatted, frying in a large skillet over a small fire in the dirt stableyard, while Falek saddled the horses.
They both called gentle greetings, but Ayleth kept her eyes down and held Etan's arm.
She was mortified. They knew. They knew. They knew what she'd been doing and who she'd been doing it with. They understood these things and could picture it, and—
"Good morning, Sires," Borsche called, grinning and cheeky. "You best get over here and eat something. You'll need your strength for the trip ahead."
