Issachar stared at Trace, clearly confused by the man's strange joke. Trace sighed.
The humor was as much for his own sake as the boy's. He didn't like having two men with spears watching his every movement as if he were some sort of spy or criminal.
Well, he was sort of a spy, but not the kind with ill intentions. In fact, he very much wanted out of the business of spying entirely! If only he could find some way to cleanly accomplish that without endangering anyone, he would do so in a heartbeat.
The morning wore on, and Trace worked hard, his frustration showing itself in the merciless way he worked his muscles at the various tasks of the stables. He was going to be sore the next day for certain, but this was better than letting his emotions out in other ways with two pairs of eyes watching every move.
At the very least, they could report that he was a hard worker, right? Maybe that would count in his favor if he ever got to see the king.
