“Rotten apples.” The corporal pointed at Amaranthe. “Can you help, or will they just get worse when they see you?” Sicarius strode through the doorway. Amaranthe hustled after. She had to speak first, before the men blew her story. She need not have worried, for they halted and stared when they saw her and Sicarius. It was not disbelief at their arrival, she realized, but amusement at the farmer outfits. Maldynado managed to open his mouth at the same time as he smirked. “Junior,” Amaranthe blurted to beat him. “How could you leave the farm—leave my sister—like that? You plant your seed, then
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