Next to him sat Kye.
I froze in place, then immediately sent my gaze through the trees in a frantic search of the nearby houses. Who was outside? Who might see him here, sitting on the bench of my veranda, cooking fish in my oven? Who was watching, waiting to see me bewitch the poor Calderian man?
The door flap slapped the wall as I marched inside.
I stood in the center of the little room, listening to the stunned silence on the veranda. Then low murmurs, quiet conversation.
I hugged my arms, staring out the window with stinging eyes.
Witch.
Without warning, hatred simmered inside me. It was my veranda. My home.Mysafe place.
Why was he here?
There wasn't much to do inside. Homes were for sleeping. The veranda was for everything else. I needed to tend my garden. A bag of seeds I’d collected needed separating, and I’d hoped to work on sanding down my new oar.
But the waiting eyes of my neighbors stirred the heat within me, and there wasthat manon my porch, and my oblivious father, luring the attention of every passerby.
I hated them all.
Fuming, I dropped to the floormat and braided my hair in a long rope over my shoulder. My fingertips drummed the floor as I tried to think of what else to do inside. My clean, drytapa cloths lay stacked in the corner. Nets were mended, folded, tucked away.
And my oar lay half-finished on the veranda. Clenching my teeth, I changed and peered out the door flap.
“Sit down, Maren,” my father commanded softly.
I glared at him, dropping my voice and ignoring Kye, who sat only a few feet away. “Why,Makua? Everyone can see.”
His gaze hardened. He pointed to the empty space next to Kye, then turned his attention to the smoking oven, apparently unwilling to argue.
After taking my time to pry myself out of the open doorway, I sat on the bench. Kye shifted away from me in his seat, and my eyes veered to the back of his veined forearm as he subconsciously rubbed his thighs.
“Kye,” my father said conversationally, “please continue.”
Kye cleared his throat. “What was I talking about?”
“Your mines in Calder.”
“My family used to mine silver, but those ran dry years before I was born. My grandparents found gold when my father was a baby, and recently, we’ve been experimenting with iron ore mines.”
“And you plan to take this trade someday?” my father asked.
Kye might not have heard the hidden question in his words, but I did.What are your plans for the future?
“Perhaps. My family uses foremen to manage the mines, so we aren’t needed on site. But the process is fun to learn.”
I bit back a sarcastic laugh.The process is fun to learn. His family didn’t evenwork. I shook my head, eyes narrowed at the fire, as the thought repeated itself in my head.
His family didn’t work.
Kye had never sat knee-deep in mud, dirt accumulated under his nails, driving his trowel through soil under heavy rain, shoulders and back aching. He hadn’t woken before sunrise topaddle out and fill buckets with heavy clams. He hadn’t worked on a ship or a farm, hauling wagons full of whatever Calderians hauled. His family hired otherpeople to do those types of things for them.
The blood of a pampered life.
Well, he’d done a few of those things. At least, he’d fished, swam, and dove with the other men, retrieving spears and nets.
And what?I snorted under my breath, earning a sideways glance from my father. I didn’t care if Kye fished all the tuna out of the Juile Sea.
