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Saeryn had not won. There would be no way to win in the situation that she and Scyrr had placed themselves in. She went and stood by Eodwine’s side, but she neither saw the fine folk of Scarburg nor tasted the fine mead that had been made there. She sat down when the toast ended and looked down. She wished she could disappear, but she did not feel at liberty to stand and leave the head table again. Instead, she rested her forehead in one hand, acting as though she were tired and needed to rest her eyes. In reality, it was a ruse to hide her face from the view of everyone, thus concealing her shame.
As the moments passed, the blood in her veins cooled and her mind harped back to the argument. Her face burned with the thought of her rashness, and then her jaw clenched at the remembrance of his words. How had he managed to provoke her with mere words? She had acted like a child taunted by a large boy, and although she knew his words were false, she had struck out and reacted as though they were true, or as though they could harm her or Eodwine. Of course, now when the heat of the moment had passed, she saw that her actions had the potential of shaming him worse than anything Scyrr had said to her out in the courtyard. She had been unable to bear his taunting in private and so she had brought it out to the open.
She was going to cry, she could feel it. Her hands trembled and her throat was swollen shut with emotion. She reached out and touched Eodwine’s hand. Briefly, she looked at his face when he turned to her, but she did not meet his eye.
“Have I your leave to go to our chamber? I am weary of this gathering.”
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