Their Answer

Once Raymond’s figure disappeared into the darker side of the yard, the silence between the two women stretched for several breaths. Chandrakala remained leaning against the post, arms still loosely crossed, eyes on the place where he had stood. Maha set the empty cup down carefully and rubbed her thumb across its rim.

“He always did step in front,” Maha said quietly. “Even when he was only a boy with more stubbornness than sense. I didn’t expect him to still do it… or to ask so directly about us.” She glanced at Chandrakala. “You didn’t seem surprised.”

Chandrakala gave a small shrug. “Men who survive the kind of work he does learn to see what people try to hide. He saw it and named it without making it ugly. That is rarer than you think on these roads.” She pushed away from the post and sat beside Maha on the timber bench. “The offer is real. I watched him fight. He is not soft, and he is not careless with the people he claims responsibility for. If we join him, the work will be harder and the coin better. If we refuse, we go back to caravans and hoping the next escort is competent.”

Maha was quiet for a long moment, staring at the dying coals. “Part of me still wants to call him brother and send him away. Another part…” She exhaled slowly. “Another part noticed that he looked at me like I was no longer the girl who waited for firewood. I don’t know which part I trust more tonight.”

Chandrakala’s hand settled briefly over Maha’s. “Then we sleep on it. Morning will tell us which voice is louder.”

Dawn came pale and cold. The Iron Hounds were already breaking camp when Maha and Chandrakala approached Raymond near the horses. Both women had their traveling packs ready. Maha’s expression was composed, though her eyes carried the weight of a decision made without much sleep. Chandrakala stood half a step behind her, as always.

“We’ve talked,” Maha said without preamble. “We’ll join you. Not as merchants under temporary protection — as you offered. For the next stretch of contracts, at least. After that we can decide whether the arrangement still serves all of us.”

Raymond studied them both for a moment, then gave a short, satisfied nod. “Good. You’ll ride under my direct charge. Pay shares start after the next completed job. Chandrakala, you’ll take a turn on watch rotations. Maha, you’ll handle the company purse and any contract tallies — the Hounds lose more coin to bad counting than to blades.” He paused, then added more quietly, “You both already know how to watch each other’s backs. That stays the same. Everything else we learn on the road.”

Maha met his gaze steadily. “We’re not the same people who left Oakhaven. Don’t treat us as if we are.”

“I won’t,” Raymond answered. “That’s why I asked.”

Chandrakala’s mouth curved in the smallest of smiles. “Then let’s move before the merchants start complaining about the delay.”

The column formed up shortly after. Maha and Chandrakala took their places among the Hounds rather than with the remaining caravan. As the road stretched north under a hard morning sky, the old distance between Raymond and the girl he had once protected began, quietly, to close.