Bonded to the Rakian Berserker (Rakian Warrior Mates #3) - Elin Wyn Page 0,40
the guards to inspect their goods and papers.
It was totally worth it to hear that laugh, even if the words hadn’t made Declan go pale.
That was an added bonus, though.
“Why don’t we save that challenge for another moment, if you think you can?” Her eyes sparkled.
“I’ll endeavor to do my best for my lady wife, he said and holding her gaze fixed with his own, slowly brought her fingers to his lips.
“How long did you say we’ve been married?” he asked softly, almost brushing her skin with his words.
The color flared in her cheeks and she tugged her hand away.
But not too hard.
“You know as well as I do, at this point, with all the drilling we’ve done today,” she whispered, looking away, looking at anything other than him. “Barely a month.”
“Then from what I understand, it would be doubly rude to refuse my new bride anything at all,” he answered.
Suddenly they were at the gate.
Her touch, the bantering, had served as a welcome distraction for part of his attention. But the rest of his mind was evaluating the stance of the guards, the thickness of the walls, the height of that smooth gleaming surface.
How thoroughly each wagon was examined, how each person handed over a set of papers to be passed on, or pulled aside.
Whatever the Council said, they knew about the Haleru.
And maybe something more.
It would be one thing to encase the fledgling settlement with walls when the colonists first arrived, knowing they had forged their survey documents, unaware of what really lay out there for them in the wilds of a new planet.
But the colonists had been on Crucible for generations now.
If they really thought this was a pleasant land, prepared by the All Father for their use alone, there wouldn’t have been any need for walls.
Not to keep anyone out, at least.
Declan and the guard spoke briefly, and Esme kept her eyes downcast.
“The lady’s shy, I see,” the guard said, craning his head to get a better look past the veil.
“Not too used to crowds,” Gavin said, trying to keep the cutting edge out of his voice. “She will be, once we set up house here.”
“Good luck finding a place,” the guard said and after a quick examination of their chest and bundles waved them through.
With the wall at his back, Gavin knew exactly how Esme felt.
Trapped.
20
Esme watched the people around her, meticulously filing away details that she might never need.
How thin the workers looked as they lined the dirt road that led from the outermost gate through the craftsman’s ring towards the next set of walls.
How narrow the side streets and alleyways were, how quickly people turned away from the guards some merchants had patrolling around their wagons.
“Why would they stay here?” she whispered.
Gavin shook his head, nostrils flaring. “Maybe they think it’s safer here than outside the walls, making a living in the forest or the mountains. It’d be hard work, setting up a farmstead on their own. Most probably wouldn’t know how to survive the first year. At least here, they know what they’re in for.”
The line of wagons slowed again to pass through the second gate.
Again, Declan showed his travel pass, marked clearly with the color and pattern of his assigned neighborhood.
Her chest tightened once more, and she focused on her breathing.
Right here, right now, everything was fine.
Even if everything felt like she was going to be sick.
She’d been a fool, trying to calm the warrior standing patiently beside her, when she couldn’t even control her own panic.
“We’ll go apply for a set of documents for you tomorrow,” Declan assured her, as if the very idea of needing a piece of paper in order to move about was somehow normal.
“You can go anywhere, as long as they know where you’re from?” she asked, wondering if there was any good side to this at all.
Declan laughed. “No, you can get in as far as your home ring. If you’re summoned to go further into the city, they’ll send an invitation with a temporary pass.”
Gavin snorted. “Not really used to waiting around to get invited places.”
Esme fidgeted with the trailing sleeves of her gown. Another restriction, this time in fabric, instead of paper or stone. But just as confining.
As they emerged from the thick gate into the merchants’ ring, the last of the day’s light sparkled across the high rooftops before them.
No mean narrow alleyways here, but broad paved streets, graceful tall buildings alternating with jewel-like parks.