Defying Destiny by Olivia Downing Page A

anything.”
    “But—”
    “If you don’t stop being so contrary,
    you won’t be allowed to go at all.”
    Carsha’s eyes filled with tears and she
    stamped her foot angrily. When Nash
    didn’t back down in the face of her fury,
    she turned and headed for the door
    dejectedly.
    When she was gone, Maralee spoke.
    “Perhaps I shouldn’t have invited her.”
    “It will be good for her to go,” Nash
    said and made his way to the fireside.
    “Perhaps our greatest folly is secluding
    ourselves in the forest.”
    Maralee sat down beside him. “I don’t
    know. I find the two of you refreshingly
    different.”
    He didn’t look at her or comment on
    her compliment. She decided she was
    making him uncomfortable, so she changed
    the subject with a falsely enthusiastic
    smile. “The three of us could have
    breakfast at the inn. My treat,” she said.
    “The owner’s wife makes fantastic
    griddlecakes.”
    “I’m not used to exotic food.”
    She laughed at his joke. “Now you’re
    being funny ha-ha.”
    He stared into the fire as if it held a
    sudden fascination for him. A few
    moments later, Carsha returned, letting
    herself into the house.
    “Grandma says I can go!”
    “She did?” Nash looked surprised as
    he glanced at the girl over his shoulder.
    “She said I should be safe as long as
    you’re with me, Uncle Nash.”
    Nash smiled at her. “This should be an
    adventure. Maralee says she will treat us
    to breakfast at the inn.”
    “I hope you like griddlecakes,”
    Maralee said.
    Carsha glanced at Nash uncertainly.
    “What are those?”
    “I have no idea,” Nash said, shrugging.
    Maralee chuckled, grinning at the pair
    of them. “I guess a good sense of humor
    runs in your family.”
    Nash and Carsha exchanged glances.
    Maralee’s face fell. “You don’t mean
    you’ve actually never had griddlecakes?
    You two are in for a treat.”
    “Okay!” Carsha said enthusiastically,
    as if she were conquering a great fear.
    “Get your boots and cloak,” Nash said
    to Maralee. He began smothering the fire,
    which had just started to warm the room.
    “I’ve got some furs and buckskin we can
    trade for supplies. I’ll meet you on the
    porch.”
    “Can I go to the bathroom first?”
    Maralee asked.
    He nodded at her, before sliding his
    feet into his boots and putting on his long
    leather coat. He looked every bit a
    dangerous outlaw.
    “Can I help you, Uncle Nash?” Carsha
    asked, following him to the door.
    “Don’t you have some rabbit furs in
    the store room?” he asked. “Maybe you’d
    like to trade them for something at the
    mercantile.”
    “Can I really?” Carsha rushed out of
    the house in front of him, waving her arms
    excitedly.
    Nash glanced over his shoulder and
    gave Maralee a smile before closing the
    door behind them. Maralee put on her
    boots and cloak, slipped outside and
    around the back of the house for a moment
    of privacy, and then returned to the porch.
    Nash and Carsha joined her within a few
    minutes, Carsha carrying a small bundle of
    rabbit furs and Nash a much larger batch
    of hides and other furs.
    “So is this how your village makes
    money?” Maralee asked.
    “We are fairly self-sufficient,” he
    said. “We trade furs for the few things we
    cannot find in the forest.”
    “Like cigarettes?” she teased him.
    “My one guilty pleasure,” he agreed.
    “Are you ready?”
    “I don’t suppose I could get my sword
    back before we go?”
    “Not yet,” he said. Carsha clung
    fearfully to Nash’s leg. “You won’t need
    it until the next full moon, right?”
    Maralee avoided the child’s frightened
    golden eyes. She would have insisted
    upon the return of her sword if Carsha
    hadn’t been so obviously terrified of it. “I
    suppose.” She sighed. “I guess I’m ready
    then.”
    They headed in the direction of
    Sarbough, Carsha staying protectively by
    Nash’s side, while Maralee picked her
    way through the dense underbrush a few
    paces behind them. The sun