Free Daughter of Mystery by Heather Rose Jones

both.

Chapter Nine
    Margerit
    The remainder of my properties. There had been no time to think seriously on what that meant in the chaos that followed. And then Barbara was backing slowly toward the edge of the room with her sword out and her eyes darting wildly. Margerit knew how it must look but she’d seen Barbara’s face when she spun around. In that brief instant there had been no anger, no murderous intent, no emotion at all. Only afterward had she realized what she’d done. And now the room felt like the moment between the lightning flash and the crack of the thunder.
    Without any thought or plan Margerit rose and walked slowly toward her, stretching her hand out in entreaty. Her heart was pounding. When she came within inches of the blade’s point she hesitated. Barbara backed up another step and then the tip of her sword wavered and dipped toward the floor. She seemed paralyzed. Margerit closed the distance in two short steps and reached out to touch her lightly on the wrist. She closed her other hand around the base of the blade. Quietly, so that only the two of them could hear, she said, “Barbara, you’re frightening them—I’m afraid someone will do you an injury.”
    “Don’t…please,” Barbara pleaded. “It’s sharp.”
    “I know,” Margerit answered. She could feel the edge against her palm but she held firm. “Give me the sword. Let go. Please!”
    So gently that the steel moved not a hairsbreadth, Barbara released her grip. Margerit took the hilt in her other hand and held the weapon lightly, tucked into the folds of her skirts. Her palm stung and she clenched it into a hidden fist.
    The moment she stepped back, there was a rush of some of the bolder men. Margerit tried to protest as they seized Barbara by the arms and forced her to her knees but no one paid her any mind in their haste to make up for their former timidity. She raised her voice, hating how it quavered. “Maistir LeFevre, I think we can solve this problem simply enough. If Barbara has been given to me, then I will free her.”
    LeFevre held up his hand to stop her. “I think it would be best if I finished reading this clause.” He wiped his balding forehead with a kerchief and took up the papers again. “‘And to ensure that my wishes in this matter are carried out, it is stipulated that Margerit is to take and maintain the woman Barbara in her own household and Barbara is to serve her as armin until such time as both of them shall have attained their majority. And if these conditions are not met, then my legacy to both Margerit and the crown is forfeit, save that each will be given five thousand crowns, and the residue of my estate will be given instead to the Convent of Saint Orisul, for the benefit of my soul.’”
    The gathered crowd again erupted in noisy comment and speculation. Margerit heard her uncle begin to speak and raised her voice over them all. It was her one chance to see it through before she lost courage entirely. “Please, Uncle, let me speak.” From the look he returned her she knew there would be a price to pay later. Her voice was shaking even more now but she continued. “When I came here today, I had no expectation of being remembered with anything more than a token. Instead, I’ve been left a fortune beyond what I can imagine. Five thousand crowns is still far more generous than anything I had a reason to expect. What is the harm to me if I forfeit an inheritance that I’ve never touched in order to see justice done? Give Barbara her freedom and let the convent have its fortune. I will be content.” In the back of her mind, a voice whispered, Is this worth the price? And the answer, Let her be what I can’t: free.
    LeFevre was watching her with a startled and bemused expression but just as he might have spoken, Uncle Fulpi’s voice cut through the room. He had pushed his way to her side and looked as if he wanted to shake her. “You will do no such thing! You may be too foolish to see