CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“So? How was it then? How did you get on with his lordship last night?”

As she stood in the far corner of the yard, scattering grain from the bag that hung like a ton weight from her shoulder, Malice could barely bring herself to glance round. But Gentle was persistent. All morning she’d hung about, when Malice came down to the breakfast table, when Snotra sent her out here with this thing round her neck. Feed hens when he’d promised her shoes? The cheek of it.

“You certainly made enough noise to wake the dead.”