She smoothed her hands down the front of her threadbare pants, painfully aware of her own appearance. Women didn’t usually wear trousers in Viridia, or their hair in a tangled mass down their backs. Would this man recognize her garb as prison clothes? Would he wonder why she was so untidy, so… wild?

Nomi snuck a glance at the man, and sure enough he was staring straight at her, his attention fixed.

“And what are you folks running from?” he asked bluntly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Or running to? Are ye smugglers?”

“I’m taking my wife to Corrado to help care for my ailing parents,” Malachi said without hesitation, his gruff, authoritative delivery masking the lie. “Nothing nearly so thrilling as running or smuggling. Though I’m open to barter. We were thrown off course by a storm a few nights ago and lost some of our gear and food.” Malachi pulled a watch from his pants pocket. Its gold case caught the sunshine, and the man’s attention.

“Whatcha want for that trinket?” he asked Malachi, his gaze returning to Nomi.

“A few fish, some bread if you have it, and a dress for my wife. Can’t have my parents see her like this. Her finer clothes were ruined in the rain.”

The man sniffed and pursed his lips. “Haven’t had storms here in a week or so. Where’d you say you’re coming from?”

Nomi twisted her hands behind her back, trying to look demure, but the constant rocking of the boat threw her off balance. She widened her stance. Now she looked like a soldier at attention. Too confident. She released her hands, letting her arms fall to her sides. Her palms were damp.

“We’re up from Bellaqua,” Malachi said smoothly. “Doubt you would have gotten the storm. It blew from the south and went inland.”

“Long way to travel in such a small boat.” The man glanced over at his companions, who were silently following the exchange. Then he pointed at the handle for the storage space under the bow. “Not a good sailor, are you? To lose all your belongings when you have a perfectly good lazarette to store ’em in…”

Malachi glanced at Nomi for a split second with an unreadable expression. Then he turned to the man and straightened his shoulders. When he spoke again, the gruffness of his voice had turned ugly. “Truth is, the girl’s a handful. Bought her off her father, who’d spoiled her something fierce. She tossed our things in a rage when I told her I’d be leaving her to care for my parents alone. Got some work to do to tame her before we get to Corrado.”