liar here. As for my mother, she would say anything to protect you. Alice as well.”
From one instant to the next, she thought, as her hand closed about the silver laver that stood next to her chair. It was filled with clean water. She picked it up, rose, and hurled it at him.
“You whoreson,” she shrieked at him, but it was difficult because she was panting as if she had run ten miles. Water dripped off his face and his tunic. Trist poked his head out, his face wet. He was staring at Hastings, then twisting about to look up at Severin.
Severin had managed to block the laver with his arm and it was on the floor, more dents in the beautiful polished silver. Edgar the wolfhound was lapping water from an indentation in one of the floor stones.
Severin rose very slowly. Hastings didn’t like the look in his eye. She tried to duck past him, but only got about three feet. He grabbed her about her waist, quickly moved his arm upward away from the wound, and pulled her back. He turned her around to face him. She was still panting hard. He might want to beat her, but he wouldn’t. She was carrying his child. The stitches were still in her side.
He was not more than three inches from her. He was silent, just staring down at her.
He closed his hands around her neck, lifting her chin with his thumbs. “You fear me and then you do not,” he said in the calmest voice she’d ever heard out of him. “But no matter, you continue to make a fool of me whenever it suits you.”
“You called me a liar. You called your own mother a liar. What would you expect me to do, sit here with my head downcast and let you fling out your insults? ”
“I would expect you to speak to me about my opinions, not attack me. I have allowed you too much freedom, Hastings. It is time to rein you in.”
“What do you mean?” Her mouth felt dry, drier still as she watched the drops of water roll down his face.
“You are without control. You do not govern yourself. You do what-
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