Mahrree noticed something else, too. Those who approached her husband did so still a bit hesitantly, and others didn’t even try—most notably the husbands of the admiring women. Instead, those men clustered nearby with uncertain scowls on their faces as they waited for their distracted wives. Everyone knew Major Shin had killed over a dozen men, and now he was officially The Strongest Soldier. While certainly attractive, he was also still intimidating.
Perrin had a presence, a way of carrying himself, that maybe was inherited from his father and grandfather, or instilled into him by his upbringing—but whatever it was, his presence commanded respect, awe, and a bit of fear.
None of these people knew what Mahrree did, that when he came home he rolled on the floor with his children and giggled like they did, kissing and tickling them, and sometimes snuggling with them until they collapsed into a deep sleep. No one else knew that he could be so tender and gentle and sweet, even. That was her secret.
They just felt his presence, and it was immense.
But, interestingly, Mahrree noticed as her gaze shifted to the younger soldier, Shem Zenos also had a presence.
People were drawn to him, as she and Perrin had been. And now that he was “one of their own,” Edgers each wanted a few minutes with the corporal. He grinned enormously at each new friend, his sky blue eyes shining happily to receive so much consolation, and the villagers were thrilled to pour it on him. He was almost more charismatic than Perrin, Mahrree thought. While Perrin was a bit threatening, Shem was so utterly approachable. Oddly, she was struck momentarily with an amusing idea—Shem on the “throne” with Perrin as his guard dog.
But soon Mahrree noticed that women—of a wide variety of ages—were also lined up to speak with Shem, and their eyes were taking in his build. For the first time she realized that his body shape was rather similar to Perrin’s. Same full round shoulders and arms—also glistening, for the benefit of the women who couldn’t get a clear view of Perrin—broad chest, and defined stomach muscles. Perhaps they were alike because Perrin put his soldiers through his training regimen.
Yet, Mahrree considered, no soldiers were quite as massive as Perrin or Shem. Karna was certainly a bundle of muscle, she noted as the captain worked his way through the crowd to them, but not nearly as bulky.
Karna asked loudly if anyone in the crowd had seen the expression on Major Shin’s face when he first learned about the pink banner.
A man standing nearby raised his hand, then with great drama acted out Perrin’s look of shock and fury, followed by a slap to his forehead.
The crowd—several hundred—exploded in laughter, and even Perrin had to join in.
Mahrree grinned, then noticed something more. Shem and Perrin even laughed alike. It was hard to pick out their voices in the mass, but their faces contorted in the same ways, and they moved at the same rhythm.
Perhaps it was because they were becoming friends, Mahrree decided. She’d seen that before—close friends mirroring each other’s laugh.
But maybe, maybe it was because they shared a common ancestor, one who passed down his massive frame and deep belly laugh that sounded like cheerful bells clanging.
If only Shem had black hair and eyes like Perrin, instead of light brown hair like hers and those sparkling blue eyes, she would’ve been bold enough to declare they must have been distantly related.
Mahrree bit her lip in dreadful anticipation as she saw Sareen weave her way through to Shem. The poor girl had been trying so hard to get him to notice her, but he didn’t. He didn’t seem to notice anyone but the Shin family.
Shem was drying himself off with the dingy rag Karna had left as Sareen reached him. He glanced at her, then looked at Perrin with what seemed like pleading in his eyes.
Perrin grinned, took one of the thick red cloths from off his chair, and tossed it to his subordinate.
Shem’s expression told him that wasn’t exactly what he was hoping for, although Mahrree wasn’t sure what he wanted.
Sareen, beaming and bouncing, with her tunic still embarrassingly low, kneeled in front of Shem in obeisance.
Mahrree rolled her eyes. The girl was hopeless.
Shem made quite a business of rubbing his short hair with the red cloth, as if not realizing Sareen was there. Perrin’s loud throat clearing finally made him stop. He set the wide cloth around his shoulders, and Mahrree wondered if he intentionally tried to cover parts of his muscular anatomy to dissuade the eyes of his admirers, some of whom regarded him with less-than-pure appreciation.
Then he had no choice but to look down at Sareen.
Mahrree considered the angle, and winced in empathy for Shem. Sareen had made sure she planted herself right where she could make the most of her exposed—