Does It Matter?

Chapter 4

Brayan wasn't surprised when Maric took his time coming down for dinner. He had been quiet and distracted all day, and the moment they had stopped for the night he had led his slave up to his room without a word to anyone else. When he finally did make his way back downstairs, it was with his slave trailing close behind him.

Raedon vacated the seat next to Brayan without having to be asked, and Maric claimed it. The slave stood awkwardly behind him for a moment until Maric reached a hand back and guided him down onto the floor. He sat rather than kneeled, but Maric didn't correct him.

Brayan had expected the time alone with the slave to have released some of Maric's tension, but if anything the opposite was the case. Maric started piling his plate with the roast beef and vegetables the barmaid brought over without bothering to address his men.

Maric had always kept things casual and friendly with the men he lead, but Brayan didn't miss the way Raedon's eyes darted to meet his older brother's across the table when Maric held out a piece of beef and the slave took it with his hands.

Only Garrod, the oldest member of the prince's guard at nearly twice Brayan's age, seemed unconcerned by the exchange. When he met Brayan's gaze and gave him a smile, amusement lighting his eyes, Brayan frowned and shook his head. This wasn't a game. Maric had a reputation to maintain.

Beside him Maric made a sound of disapproval and Brayan thought he had noticed the exchange, but he was frowning down at his cup. "This wine is awful."

Brayan stood from the table. "We have some of our own in the wagon. I'll go and get it."

Maric gave him a measuring look, but he nodded his approval.

Normally Brayan would have sent Raedon on a menial task such as this and they all knew it, but Brayan wanted a moment alone and even Maric usually didn't question his decisions. Brayan liked that about him. He was only a couple of years older than Maric, but as soon as Maric had seen that Brayan intended to respect him he had given Brayan his respect in return. It worked for them.

But this... this was a different matter. Brayan could see the problem brewing, but he was no expert in slaves or diplomacy. All he had to offer was his own opinion, and that felt like overstepping.

Brayan found the wagon in the stables and began looking through the crates stacked in the back for the wine they'd brought with them.

He heard a creak and glanced over his shoulder, and then turned when he saw Maric standing in the doorway to the stables. "You shouldn't be out here alone."

"I'm not alone. Am I?"

Brayan pressed his lips together. "You know what I mean. It's not safe."

"Raedon is waiting for me at the inn door. He can see the stables from where he is. If there's any trouble he can call the others in an instant, so you can stop using my safety as an excuse to try to get rid of me."

Brayan opened his mouth to defend himself, then shut it again and looked away. "Sorry, sir. What do you need?"

"You need to talk to me. I can tell when they're something on your mind."

"And you can guess what it is, I imagine. I didn't think you'd want to hear it."

Maric sighed and went to stroke Farah's head over the door of her stall. "I know the situation with Dara is a mess. I don't need to be told that. If you have any advice, though... I wouldn't be opposed."

Brayan's advice would have been to get rid of the slave as soon as possible, but he knew that wasn't what Maric wanted to hear. "What do you want to achieve?"