Samaria City, Israel
Obadiah motioned Ahab’s bodyguards forward.
One guard yawned and polished an apple on his tunic.
A girl gaped at the apple.
The guard followed her gaze.
Obadiah held his breath. Would this man see the child as girl or as prostitute?
The guard’s mouth closed, and color drained from his face. He hid the apple in his hand and slipped it into his pack.
Ahab twisted away. “Priorities, Biah. You’ve never understood priorities.” He stomped to the weaver’s house and disappeared with his guards into the alley.