Free The Forest at the Edge of the World by Trish Mercer Page B

before adding, “but I’m not here for your pie. I’m here for an explanation.” He took a bite and stared accusatorily at the old man while he chewed.
    The rector’s wife pulled out a chair to sit across from her hu sband who was practicing his best ‘What have I done?’ look.
    “An explanation about what, my boy?” Rector Densal sounded genuinely unsure.
    Perrin swallowed. “About tonight! About . . . umm,” he waved his fork.
    “Miss Mahrree Peto?”
    Perrin took another bite. “Yes,” he mumbled, pointing his fork at the rector. “Some old school teacher! That’s what you said, Hogal. ‘The old school teacher.’”
    Mrs. Densal looked down and tried to hide a smile.
    Hogal put on a thoughtful expression. “Well, now, many of the younger children think of her as old. Perhaps that’s what I meant—”
    “I know what you’re doing,” Perrin said, shifting his gaze b etween the two of them. “And I’m not here to get married. I’m here to command the new fort. And to eat your pie. Delicious, as always.” He smiled at Mrs. Densal.
    She beamed, adding more creases around her ever-twinkling eyes.
    “My boy, no one said anything about marriage. Dear, did you say anything about marriage?” Hogal asked his wife.
    “Just so you both understand: I’m not the marrying type.”
    “Ah, Perrin,” said Mrs. Densal, patting his hand. “Everyone is the marrying type. They just don’t know it until they find their type!”
    “And it’s my guess that Miss Mahrree may be your type!” Hogal winked.
    Perrin ignored that comment and focused on the pie. “And you already scheduled another debate?”
    “Oh, she suggested it, my boy,” the rector told him. “She’s quite thoughtful. Just like her father, one of the wisest men I ever knew. And she might be considered pretty, too.”
    “Looks aren’t everything,” Perrin muttered as he broke off another piece, but something in his voice suggested they were part of the equation.
    “She reads a lot. Tends to get a little outspoken, but I think you saw that,” Hogal mused, trying to see any reaction on Perrin’s face.
    But Perrin kept looking at his plate, pushing bits of berries around with his fork.
    “But at least she thinks!” Mrs. Densal interjected. “It can be di fficult to find young women who care for anything more than popular dress colors.”
    When the captain didn’t respond, the elderly couple looked at each other and communicated silently.
    The rector cleared his throat. “I’m intrigued about your presentation of the topics. First, you receive that message from Idumea—”
    “He’s always sending me weather reports,” the captain said of fhandedly.
    “Curious that he should, considering that the weather we have in Edge one day is visiting Idumea the next. Reports should be going the other way, I would think. Or perhaps he’s just drawing your attention to the color of the sky?”
    The captain didn’t answer, but took another bite of pie.
    The rector smiled at the avoidance tactic. “You wanted her to choose the color of the sky debate, didn’t you? Did you decide that before or after you laid eyes on her?”
    Perrin shrugged without looking up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Another bite of pie.
    “Of course not,” Hogal said, with a slow nod. “She did rather well, I thought. Took you on quite handily. In about five more minutes, she would have humiliated you. Maybe that’s why you cut the debate short?”
    Perrin suddenly stopped and stared at his plate.
    “But you made great strides in proving to the village that you and the army are not lingering death tools of the kings,” Hogal assured him. “You even earned a few smiles, nods of approval, and one hearty round of applause. Excellent work tonight, my boy.”
    Perrin just studied his nearly empty plate.
    “You know,” the rector said with a chuckle as he rearranged some of the dishes set for their breakfast, “I was just thinking, she doesn’t