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Rowenna stopped and took the boy's rapid-fire questions as an opportunity to stretch her aching back and loosen the stiffness in her fingers from gripping the brush hard.
"I do as I am told. 'Necessary' is not for me to decide." She looked at him, studying him briefly. Javan, he was called, full of vigor and wrestlessness, like a young horse that does not like the bridle. "Go ask Frodides if it is necessary, if you like."
She picked up the brush in both hands, dipped it in the hot soapy water, and began scrubbing the floor again. She did not look up at the boy. If he chose to speak more, she would answer. If not, she would keep at her work.
At least she had a new dress, even if it was a handoff from Kara who, it just so happened, was the same size as Rowenna. And her hair was not a tangled mess anymore. It was almost an embarrassment to her how much these small things pleased her. But she told herself it was what they meant: she no longer fought for survival among outlaws.
She had been surprised at first how much of her thought and will had been taken up with the struggle to live and wheedle from Ulrich what she could. And now she could hardly help herself from discretely studying and weighing everyone around her, to see how the power was apportioned, who had it, who was angling for more, who was losing it. And she also found herself forming fantastic strategies as to who was the most useful, and how they could be used, to raise herself up into a position of power here.
She had discovered that Ginna, for example, was in a most strange position. Whereas her work was lowly, she was the Eorl's old friend's daughter, and so had more influence than it seemed, and more than the girl seemed to be aware she had if she only knew how to use it.
And then there was that Garreth. Twin of Harreld, Ginna's love interest, if that was what it could be called. And with Harreld so caught up with the girl, Garreth had cast about for anything with a skirt, and quickly settled on Rowenna. She rolled her eyes. His interest had been spoken in no uncertain terms. Her disinterest had at first been spoken as discretely as she knew how, but no avail, and by the time two weeks had gone by she had found it necessary to tell him straightly that he was not for her. Poor fool. She was a land holder's daughter and would not marry a blacksmith almost twice her age who would no doubt leave her widowed and at the mercy of whatever sons could keep her. No, she had bigger plans for her life, if she could bring them about.
And why could not Ginna see that leading Harreld on was no good? She was the same rank as herself, and her father would not grant such a union; it would be stooping too low. The girl was meant for a land holder like her father. Or better, if she could learn how to harness that wild horse of a temper of hers and use the strength of it to advance her own ends.
All these thoughts passed through her mind quickly, being rehearsed from earlier, and she glanced to see if the boy still stood there or had moved on.
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