While Grant's men offloaded the sacks of grain, Kaelor sat inside the tent with Mildred and Vi. With their hoods lowered, both women revealed their striking appearances, one with cascading black hair and unsettlingly calm eyes, the other silver-haired, poised like a noblewoman carved from starlight.
Garrick, standing near the entrance, frowned as he watched them. He had heard of Kaelor charming a barmaid or tempting a lonely widow, but this… this was different.
Kaelor's way with women had always been simple: a clever tongue and a few coins. There was nothing in that arrogant skull that could entice women of such elegance and power. And yet here they were, seated beside him like confidants, not captives.
They weren't just beautiful. They held themselves with a composure he had only seen in the daughters of great lords, in the veiled ladies who passed through cities on golden carriages. Women like that did not lower themselves to the beds of lords who ruled over a mere muddy town.
