Scarburg Meadhall

[Folwren]

Saeryn’s indignation rose higher than before. She jerked back around to face her horse, turning her back to Eodwine, and a short, clipped statement answered him. “I see.” She tightened the girth viciously, causing her horse to twitch uncomfortably before she realized what she was doing. As she eased it again, her mind found another outlet of anger.

“I guess next she’ll be asking for your keys and rod of lordship!” she muttered. “And I suppose you’ll just hand them over to her, won’t you?”

“What did you say?” Eodwine asked.

“You heard me,” she replied curtly. “You’ll serve them to her on a silver platter, too, no doubt.” She’ll hear it from me, she added to herself. She sent a flaming glance in Rowenna’s general direction (she was with Flíthaf in one of the stalls). A woman ought to know better than to waltz in and claim an eorl for herself without asking first.