The Forest at the Edge of the World (23 page)

Perrin squeezed her tighter. It was getting hard to breathe, but she didn’t mind.

Abruptly he stepped back. “I need to get to the fort. Lots to do right now. I’m running extra drills in sword work this afternoon. Suddenly all of the soldiers are taking it much more seriously.” He smiled, but it wasn’t genuine. “We really have nothing to worry about. Guarders aren’t anywhere near Edge, and my sergeant major is arranging for patrols in the village. The first begin tonight, and your road is on it. You’ll be fine, Mahrree.”

She didn’t think so. She looked into his face, pleading for him to take her with him to the fort, but not daring to say the words.

“My five minutes are up, and your students will be talking. I’ll see you in just a few hours for dinner. Then I’ll be there all evening. We should take measurements of your windows and doors,” he decided. “I’ll have the fort blacksmith create some reinforcements to make entry more difficult.”

He paused.

“Maybe we should move up the wedding. We really don’t need three moons, do we?”

Mahrree felt a flush of panic. Maybe he didn’t need that much time to prepare, but she certainly did.

“We shouldn’t move it up just because of this. Besides, your parents can’t come any earlier, can they?”

He sighed. “My father’s schedule is usually set at least half a year in advance. There’s no way he could change it. Unless
we
went to Idumea—No!” he declared immediately. “Absolutely not. We’ll just keep to what we decided last night. You’ll be fine.”

He kissed her again and hastily darted out of the shed, leaving her to hold the rod.

Mahrree stared at the crude weapon, and her belly twisted with worry. She couldn’t exactly walk into the classroom holding the iron. She tried slipping it into her sleeve, but it was too long and extended beyond her elbow. She slipped the rod down into her skirt and secured it in the ties for her stockings. If she sat down just right, she wouldn’t stab herself. She giggled uncomfortably at the position of the rod, then giggled again at the look on Perrin’s face when he first kissed her. Then she giggled again out of sheer nervousness.

She couldn’t remember
ever
giggling before she met Captain Perrin Shin.

Mahrree stepped out of the shed, knowing she had to get back to her class before they started asking too many questions. But she couldn’t push away the heavy thoughts about the fort at Grasses, or the realization that this time it
was
real. She could see in Perrin’s eyes that even he was surprised. The attack wasn’t controlled by kings as a convenient show of force, but was instead something much darker and threatening. It followed her like a black cloud as she walked gingerly back to her class, hoping the rod wouldn’t slip.

When Mahrree opened the door she saw eight eager faces.

“Well?” Teeria said.

Mahrree couldn’t even muster a smile. “The answer to your question a few weeks ago: Yes, Captain Shin would kill a Guarder to protect the village. Protecting all of us is his duty.”

“Nothing
else
, Miss Mahrree?”

“You have essays to write, girls!”

-
--

When evening finally arrived, Perrin stood at the door and knocked formally with his foot, since his arms were full of books.

Mahrree, who’d been jittery as she walked through the market that afternoon, even though she knew Guarders attacked only at night, was anxious to see him. But she was slightly disappointed he was out of uniform again. He seemed a little more vulnerable wit
hout his sword. But at his trousers’ waistband she saw what looked like the handle of a knife sticking out above his hip.

She smiled, took a deep breath and announced loudly, in case any neighbors were in earshot, “Ah, Captain Shin! Have you fi
nished these books already? My, my. Do come in to get some more.”

Perrin rolled his eyes at her terrible acting and walked in. He dropped the books on top of the table and Mahrree gasped.

“What’s wrong?!”

“The . . .” Mahrree began to laugh and covered her mouth. “The . . .
bread!
You dropped the books on the bread! You flattened it again!”

Perrin looked down and saw that what he thought was bundled cloth actually contained a fresh loaf of bread from the bakers. The top was squeezing out under the pressure of the books and split open like a wound.

“Uh,” he lifted up the books and looked around for another place to put them. Since most of the surface of the table was covered in student writings, he settled for a chair.

Mahrree removed the cloth from the squashed bread. “Well, you said you liked flattened bread, remember?” She smiled as she held up the misshapen loaf. “Now it’s time to see how honest you are.”

“I promise to be as honest as I can be,” he said solemnly. Then with a wink he added, “From now on.” He kissed her then tore off a large piece of bread. “Now
I can get more into my mouth at one time,” and he shoved it all in his mouth.

“Oh!” Mahrree snickered. “That behavior isn’t acceptable, even in Edge! It’s fortunate for
you
that I didn’t share my bread with you that night before the fifth debate. I would never let you back into my house again. This day is filling up with all kinds of surprises about what it will mean to be your wife.”

“I’m sure you’ll surprise me with your fair share as well,” Pe
rrin garbled with a full mouth. “Any blob for dinner?”

After dinner—a safe assortment of cheeses, fresh greens, dried beef, and flattened bread—they stepped out on to the back porch. Mahrree shut her back door, and Perrin’s hand rose up and brushed against hers.

Oh dear
, Mahrree thought. She forgot about that. People who are intended tend to hold hands.

In public.

To show they are . . .

She really wasn’t quite sure
why
, but he likely expected her to grasp his hand, which she did.

“Uh,” he said, staring at their hands together. “
No.
”

Mahrree blushed in embarrassment as he gently pulled his rough hand away. It continued to rise upward to point to the metal locking latch on her door.

“I was trying to point to that. Are you going to lock it?”

Mahrree’s embarrassment vanished, and she chuckled at the old lock. “Are you serious?”

“Do you really not remember what just happened last night? In Grasses?”

“No, I remember,” she said, much more subdued. “Quite vivi
dly. Tomorrow you tell the rest of the village?”

“When the rest of the details come in, yes. So lock your door, Mahrree.”

She wondered if he practiced that authoritative tone, or if he just naturally sounded commanding by lowering his already deep voice. However he did it, he was chillingly effective.

Mahrree opened the door again, removed the iron key hanging on an old nail by the door, and shut the door again.

Perrin was rubbing his forehead earnestly when she looked up at him. “Do
not
tell me you keep the key to your door on a nail
by
the door!”

Mahrree fumbled with the lock, since she’d worked it only a handful of times. “Then I also won’t tell you that this key is identical to everyone else’s in this half of Edge, since the same blacksmith made all of our locks years ago and knew only one way to do so.”

Perrin groaned.

Before Mahrree could pocket the key, he caught her hand. “Now, unlock the door.”

“But I just—”

“Humor me,” he said in the official monotone he used during the debates. “
Unlock the door
.”

Mahrree exhaled in exasperation and unlocked it. “See? I
do
know how to work it—”

“Now,” he ordered in full commander style, “walk into your house, up to the front door, and lock
that
door.”

Mahrree’s mouth dropped open. If he dared to interrupt her one more time . . .

“What makes you think that door isn’t—”

“I noticed it when I came in tonight. Besides, if you don’t lock your back door, then you likely don’t lock the front, either. Go.
Lock it
.”

He has a point, Mahrree thought grudgingly as she stepped back into the house. She decided she couldn’t be angry about his cutting her off, because, well, her front door
wasn’t
locked.

She quickly made her way to it, fought the rusted lock for a moment to get it to twist, then hurried to the back door.

Guarders
are
back. Edge
isn’t
the same. The world
is
changing, today.

She closed the back door behind her and dutifully locked it as Perrin watched.

“Remind me to oil your front lock when we get back,” he said.

“How did you know—”

“I could hear your grunting to turn it all the way out here.” His commanding voice had faded away, replaced by a decidedly amused tone.

Mahrree cringed as they started out the back gate.

“Also understand,” he continued, much more warmly, “that I’m not really the type to hold a woman’s hand.”

“Of course,” Mahrree said, slightly relieved that she didn’t have to engage in that juvenile behavior, but also mysteriously disa
ppointed.

“It’s because I’m a soldier,” he told her. “I need to keep my sword hand free.”

“But you’re not wearing your sword,” she pointed out.

“Then it’s my knife hand.”

“I see,” she said. “So is your left hand ever free?”

“Sorry,” he said, and seemed like he meant it. “But that’s my two hand.”

Mahrree blinked. “Your what?”

“You really don’t know anything about soldiers, do you?” He smiled.

“And who would have taught me?”

He chuckled. “First lesson, right now.” He stopped in the alley and held up his right hand. “Sword hand. If no sword, then knife hand.” Faster than she could follow the movement, his hand slipped under his jacket and shirt and came back out with a knife that had been tucked into his waistband on his hip.

She’d heard of long knives. But this massive blade had ambitions to be a short sword, and she marveled that he was able to sit down without slicing any important anatomy.

“First thrust, with the blade.”

He lunged at an imaginary threat, and Mahrree instinctively leaned back. He relaxed his stance.

“Most people think that’s where it’s all at—in the blade. That kind of thinking works for you. They’re watching the blade, not the
two hand
.”

He held up his left hand and formed a fist. She’d seen him do that before, during a debate.

“First thrust, then comes the second hand with its accompanying hit. One,
two
.” He lunged again with the knife, then followed up with punch at his invisible enemy.

Mahrree winced.

He smiled at her proudly and held up his hands. “I need them both.” Then he shrugged. “Sorry, but I
am
here to defend Edge first, and be your intended second. That’s just the way it is. I know it’s not ideal, but can you live with that?”

Knowing that she likely didn’t fully comprehend what that meant, she shrugged back. “Yes, but you know we do have law e
nforcement too,” she reminded him. “They’re supposed to defend Edge. You’re supposed to defend
the border
to Edge.”

He scoffed at that. “They bring drunks home, break up fights between cats, and occasionally catch a thief. If your enforcers are anything like those I’ve seen elsewhere in the world, half of them don’t dare to use the wooden club they carry, while the other half look for any excuse to wallop something. I, however,” he said with a return to the official voice, “will truly protect Edge. All of it, and from threats bigger than mouthy teenagers.”

Mahrree couldn’t help but grin. He really meant it. Someone more cynical—rather like her just a few weeks ago—would have thought he was too well indoctrinated in Command School, but he truly believed it. He
would
protect Edge.

His eyebrows furrowed. “Why are you smiling like that?”

She wasn’t sure what response he’d expected from his little speech, but smiling obviously wasn’t it.

“I’m just glad I have you by my side tonight.”

He squinted suspiciously at her, but she squeezed his ample arm.

“Now, we were planning to go somewhere, remember? You’re going to show me just how brave you are, Captain Shin. Right?”

His squint disappeared as he winked at her. He replaced his knife in his waistband and they left the alley for the main road.

They headed east, receiving stares and a few waves from seve
ral people sitting on their front porches to enjoy another warm Planting Season evening. It wasn’t going quite as they’d planned. They had hoped everyone would be at the amphitheater. But tonight’s entertainment must not have been as amusing as Mahrree and Perrin’s awkwardness in trying to walk together without looking like they were walking
together
.