Page 65 of Fortress of Snow

“I’ve heard about you,” Silvester said. “They call you the Knife Girl.”

She waited to see if he would take another step toward her. She was ready.

She could see Ro’s hand was trembling, but she said nothing and did not move.

They stood staring at one another for what seemed a very long time. Finally, the two men sat down on the floor and started talking in low whispers. Mazy hoped they were speculating whether Mazy would slit their throats should they fall asleep. She wouldn’t, but she hoped they thought she would. She continued to stare at them while keeping her hand in her pocket on her knife handle.

“You can go now and I will not tell my brother, Sir John of Wexcombe, to take his vengeance out on you for how you have behaved toward Roesia and myself.”

Silvester looked at Wimarc first. He was weakening. She could see it in his face.

Honestly, she wondered if John would even notice if something happened to her. But right now she had to convince these two miscreants that she had a loving, attentive brother, a knight with connections to the king.

“My brother belongs to the king’s own personal guard. He has the king’s ear, and if the king finds out you harmed his guard’s sister, he will have you drawn and quartered.”

Silvester cut his eyes at Wimarc again, and Wimarc suddenly stood to his feet.

Mazy gripped her knife.

Wimarc went around the heavy plank counter, grabbed a flask of ale, then tapped Silvester’s arm.

“We won’t forget how you wronged us. You’ll regret this.”Wimarc’s expression was spiteful as he and Silvester stalked out the door.

Mazy ran to the door, closing and then barring it with the heavy crossbar. “Is the back door locked?”

Ro met her gaze. “I think so.”

They both ran through the alehouse to the back door and locked it, then found the crossbar and threw it down over the door. Then Ro burst into tears.

Mazy held her friend, a dull, lifeless feeling falling over her.

First the riot in the market, then Ro’s father dying, and now this. What was next? And how were they going to run the alehouse and continue to sell goods at the market? She didn’t want to abandon the women whose goods they sold in the market. They were mostly widows, and this was their only income.

God, I’m tired. I’m just so tired.

***

Mazy did not go to the market the next day. Instead, she helped Ro in the alehouse and tried to find someone they could trust to help them run the Swan. So far they had found no one.

“Perhaps I should sell the Swan.” Ro’s expression was as sad as when she was mourning her father’s death.

They stood looking at each other over the counter, finally experiencing a lull in customers and their orders.

“I don’t want you to sell it if you don’t want to.” Mazy couldn’t bear to think of Ro losing something else she loved so soon after losing her father. “Besides, where would you live?”

“I could live with you on the top and the new owner could live on the middle floor.” She frowned and shrugged her shoulders. “The only other option is to get married.”

“You can’t just go and get married.” Mazy stared hard at Ro. “Has anyone asked you?”

Ro fidgeted with the towel she had tucked into her belt, looking down. “I think Anselm would marry me, if he thought I was interested.”

“Anselm?” Mazy tried to remember who she was talking about. “The young man who sits in the corner and stares at you?” Her stomach felt a little sick at the thought of Ro marrying him. His hair always looked greasy and he was not very good-looking, with a paunchy belly and otherwise skinny frame.

“He’s quiet but very clever. I’ve never seen him spending time in bad company, nor ever heard him say anything debauched or unkind.”

“Do you love him? Or think you could love him?” Again, Mazy’s stomach churned at the thought.

“I don’t know.” Ro stared down at her towel again.