“Are you Persian?”
Kira started at the sound of the familiar language and almost turned before she caught herself. She should keep her secrets. She frowned and scrubbed the filthy garment she had been commanded to wash, wishing any would-be companions would leave her alone.
The warrior had left her to wash clothes under the direction of an ancient harridan, and wash clothes she would. At worst, the task occupied her hands, if not her mind.
There was absolutely no need to make idle conversation with any of the other women standing knee-deep in the stream.
Why would any of these women talk to Kira? They either sought gossip to entertain each other or gathered details for the warriors they served.
Her relief in understanding even a few words had nearly overpowered her usual caution. Kira
