Her grip tightened on the strap of her bag, nearly strangling it. “Yeza talked to you?” She asked incredulously. He was the only one who could have. Not even Luc knew about the contents of the letter she’d received.
Caleb inclined his head, not denying it. “He was worried.”
“That fucker,” Veth seethed. “I told him I was fine. I’m fine.”
“Veth,” Caleb said softly. “Your father passed. I would not expect you to be fine.”
Her father’s death wasn’t why Yeza was concerned. Veth stared at Caleb out of the corner of her eyes, wondering if he knew that. Living family was so much more dangerous than the dead, in her experience. And Yeza hardly knew everything about her past, but he knew more than most. Knew more than Caleb, certainly.
“I’m just going to get whatever he left me. It’s no big deal,” she said, trying to sound measured, rational. Because she was. Because she’d thought about this and knew what she was doing, and thought it was pretty insulting, actually, that Yeza had sent her a tagalong, even if it was Caleb.
“And you’re going to walk there?” Caleb asked. “That’s a long way to go by yourself, Veth. I could get you there in a moment if you asked.”
“I can take care of myself,” Veth pointed out. “I’m not exactly afraid of bandits, you know.”
“I understand that,” Caleb said, the slightest clip of frustration docking his words. “But do you understand how concerning it is that you would walk away to be on your own for weeks, without telling anyone but your husband, just after you’ve lost someone? How that might look to Yeza or…or to me?”
Her jaw clenched. “No one else was supposed to find out.”
He leaned in closer, eyes intent upon her. “That is worse.”
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theartofmadeline
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