He's drunk. She keeps reminding herself, uneasily shifting her step even though he hasn't moved from the ground where he'd settled when he rolled off of having attacked her.

She doesn't want to be talking with him here.

She has to deal with him so much there.


"Burned down my house, marched my father and myself off like criminals, made it very clear what you think each day since," Marian said, coldly. And who his master always had and would be. There was no remorse in punching him. She should have done it harder when she had the chance.